Virginia has a long Memorial Day past and lots of war dead. Arlington National Cemetery is in Arlington, Virginia. The site of the Lee Mansion has been used as a national cemetery since the Civil War. Mrs. Lee left her plantation for obvious safety reasons, even though she was horribly crippled with arthrits and lived the life of a vagabond until the end of the war.
In the past decade, 233 Virginians have been killed in the war on terrorism in Afghanistan and Iraq. 25 of those were killed just in the past year. On Thursday, Governor McDonnell and members of his administration gathered on the steps of the State Capital to pay tribute.
“This is the story of America,” McDonnell said. “When I think of what defines our country, it is sacrifice and it is freedom…Throughout our history, the price of liberty has always been American blood.”
Marlene Blackburn, left, who lost her son, U.S. Army Cpl. William Kyle Middleton, in Afghanistan, is comforted by her uncle Bob Galaspie at the service. (AP Photo/Steve Helber) (Steve Helber – AP)
The names of all 233 were read aloud by members of different branches of the armed services. A Coast Guard helicopter performed a ceremonial fly-by in the capital city’s sky, and a bagpiper with the Virginia Department of Corrections played “Amazing Grace.”
I posted this on my FB page today and thought it fitting here:
On behalf of the president and a grateful nation…
Many years ago I was stationed at the Naval Weapons Center, China Lake, California. This was an out-of-the-way place high in the Mojave Desert where the Navy developed and tested various types of missiles.
Among my many duties there was one I have never forgotten and which still haunts me to this day, particularly this day. I served as the Navy’s Casualty Assistance Calls Officer for Kern County, California and Clark County, Nevada. For part of this time I also served in a similar role for the U. S. Marine Corps. You’ve seen these people in movies and on television—they are the guys driving up to a home in a government car. They get out in Navy Dress Blues or the Army, Marine Corps or Air Force equivalent and walk up to the house and knock on the door. Everyone knows when they see them that they are there to tell them something they do not want to hear. Starting the conversation when the door is opened, with the saddest of sentences…
“On behalf of the President, I regret to inform you…”
I did this many times during my tour at China Lake and each one made a lasting impression. No two were alike–no reactions of parents or wives began to compare to each other. Some people were very stoic, simply saying, “Thank you for bringing us this news about our son/husband. Some, particularly mothers, collapsed in tears while father stood by with grim expressions on their faces. Some were so shocked they were unable to speak. Some were very angry and wanted to strike out at someone, anyone.
It has been nearly 45 years since I made my last call and to this day I still remember each and every one. I have written at other times about my experiences in a medical unit in Vietnam where I was often witness to watching life’s light fade from the eyes of a wounded Marine or of being drenched in the blood of a Marine while his precious, life sustaining blood leaked from his shrapnel riddled body. But I must tell you that knocking on someone’s door with that terrible message is just as traumatic as anything I have seen. You come to their home, a complete stranger, to bring them a message that only their closest friend should be delivering, but you come in the name of the President of the United States and the service you represent. Every call I made was the most dreadful thing I had ever done and every call left me with a hollow feeling because I knew there was nothing I could do that would heal this savage wound.
I often went to the funeral of the person and would be the one who presented the neatly tri-corner folded flag to the next of kin. Again, the conversation began with, “On behalf of the president and a grateful nation…” and each time there was a catch in my voice. I simply could not help it. One of these days, it will be my turn—someone unknown to me or my wife and family till turn and receive the flag of our nation from a young Navy pallbearer and will turn and present the flag to my wife and will say those same words. I can only hope that those who participate in that service will look back at the sound of Taps and see that long line of those who came before and know that they too must come to this place someday.
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Holy cow, George. Your words have simply bowled me over. You have brought that abstract home in the most viceral of ways. Not sure I want to thank you, but you accomplished your goal.
George’s writing wrenches my heart. Obeying orders is what he did.
I’ll remember this when I go to my little town’s memorial service tomorrow
and taps is played.
THANK YOU!
Punchak, please make sure you read George’s essay he wrote especially for this blog. I am posting it late tonight for tomorrow. It is fabulous!
Today’s writing wrenched my heart also. I have never lost anyone in war but I have friends who have lost fathers, husbands and boyfriends.