By David French
Monday, May 30, 2016
Few holidays illustrate America’s civilian/military
divide quite like Memorial Day. It’s a cliché to note, but true nevertheless —
that for millions of Americans, Memorial Day marks the beginning of summer and
the opening of swimming pools more than it does the immense loss of ultimate
sacrifice. For a smaller population, however, Memorial Day provides the kind of
stop-you-your-tracks moments that remind you of days of grief and pain.
I remember years ago watching a Memorial Day weekend race
on NASCAR. During the pre-race festivities, a man played “Amazing Grace” on the
bagpipes to honor those who paid the ultimate price. I had to leave the room.
The memories — of hearing that same song played the same for men whom I knew —
were simply too fresh.
For families of the fallen and for modern veterans, there
is a reality that often deepens our grief. Our wars since World War II have
often been inconclusive, at best. Battlefield victories have been squandered, a
nation that we defended — South Vietnam — is now extinct, and in Iraq thousands
of men are right back where Americans were ten years ago, fighting the same
enemy.
Against that backdrop, I’ve heard people say that
American sacrifices have been in vain, even that lives were “wasted.” I
understand. I truly do. When I watched ISIS surge across the Syrian border,
retaking towns and cities that Americans fought for at great cost, it was
difficult to describe the sense of frustration. I can only imagine how the
generation before me felt when they saw the last helicopter take off from the
roof in Saigon.
But I also know that courage is never truly wasted. It
returns incalculable value to brothers-in-arms, to the military, and to the
nation. We’ve seen throughout history that cowardice is contagious — but so are
honor and courage, even (and sometimes especially) honor and courage displayed
in a “losing” cause.
Some of the greatest moments in American military history
have occurred when members of the most powerful military in the world found
themselves in hopeless circumstances, surrounded and cut off. They’ve occurred
in the jungles of Vietnam and in the dusty streets of Diyala. We rightly
lionize that valor, and it inspires present and future generations to live up
to that legacy.
As I’ve written before, throughout history men and women
have gone into battle knowing — in the immortal words of “The Charge of the
Light Brigade” — that “someone had blunder’d.” Yet that bond of shared
sacrifice, of the willingness to die for your brother, sustains our nation and
our culture.
That’s not to say that there shouldn’t be accountability
for errors — that politicians and generals shouldn’t pay a high price for their
failures — but rather to note that every life given honorable service to our
nation leaves behind an enduring and powerful legacy.
Sometimes it seems as if we live in the age of blunders.
The quality of our political leaders diminishes, and their decisions are
striking in their short-sightedness and naked pandering. But we also still live
in an age of courage — an age of courage that persisted throughout our nation’s
existence. Think about this remarkable fact: In spite of almost 15 years of
continual combat since 9/11, most of it far from the headlines and waged in
circumstances that frustrate even our most idealistic soldiers, our nation has
sustained an all-volunteer military — with hundreds of thousands signing up not
just to fight, but to fight again and again.
This Memorial Day I’ll remember the men whom I knew — men
who died fighting in a war that is the subject of renewed, ferocious debate and
in a country that is the focus of renewed, ferocious combat overseas — and I’ll
draw strength from the courage. They were our best, they gave their all, and
their sacrifice sustains our nation far beyond its battlefields. They have made
our nation. They make it still.
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