A Veterans Day, 2007, Reflection
Sermon by Steve Edington
November 11, 2007
As muddled as memories can become the further you get from what it is you're trying to recall, certain things, I've discovered, still remain very vivid, and have left a lasting impact. A camping trip I took with my Scout troop in the summer of 1961 is one such memory. Each summer our Scoutmaster, Mr. Roberts, took our troop on a week-long camping trip in an area of a national forest in southern West Virginia. By the summer of '61 I was among the older guys in the troop, and we'd developed a certain kind of been-there-done-that swagger to our step. We had to make sure the younger guys knew who they were dealing with. So, sitting around the fire one night we older guys were the ones who began urging Mr. Roberts to tell us some of his war stories.
Jim Roberts - he was always "Mr. Roberts" to us, no matter what our age - was a Marine combat veteran of the Korean War, the first "hot war" in the Cold War that set in after World War II. On some of our camping trips he would tell a story or two about being in that conflict. They were mostly in a lighthearted vein, having to do with the bad food they had to eat, or about some of the more colorful characters who had been in his platoon. So our requests for stories that night were along the lines of "Tell us about that time in Korea when such and such happened..." This was yet another way of our showing off to the younger guys just how hip we were; we even knew the Scoutmaster's war stories. Since we weren't all that far removed from games of "playing army" we were pretty impressed to have a troop leader who had fought in a real, honest-to-goodness war.
Mr. Roberts was in an obliging mood. He started off in an easy-going manner, repeating some of the more humorous episodes we'd heard before. But the more he talked the more sober sounding he became; and those of us who thought we'd heard them all began to realize that he was going in a direction he hadn't gone before. His stories became ones about having to walk on seemingly endless marches where he said that the only thing keeping him going was seeing the legs on the guy in front of him moving. He talked of the fear of not knowing if he'd live another day; of how at night the shape of a tree or bush took on the appearance of a North Korean fighter getting ready to kill him. He told of a buddy stepping on a land mine, not too far from where he had just been walking himself, and getting blown to bits. It was as if something had clicked in Mr. Roberts' mind and he decided, well if you guys want war stories I'll give you some real war stories.
I remember how we began to get scared; and it wasn't the kind of scared you get when you're telling ghost stories around the camp fire where you expect and actually want to be frightened, and even enjoy it. We were scared because we were seeing a side of our Scoutmaster we hadn't seen before, and hearing about a side of war that we'd never been exposed to before. The fear was in not knowing where he was taking us, or where or how these stories were going to end.
Mr. Roberts was a very responsible and trustworthy leader, however, and I guess that at some point he caught himself, and realized he'd gotten in a bit deeper on this war story business than he'd really meant to. So he very quickly finished up with whatever episode he was recounting, and then just said, "I think this is enough for tonight, guys." But none of us got up to leave because we didn't want to go walking back into the dark where our tents were. So Mr. Roberts said, "Okay, let's stand up and have a word of prayer." A word of prayer? Our ex-Marine war combat veteran wanted us to stand up and pray? Mr. Roberts was not someone to argue with. We stood up and bowed our heads. He kept it short and to the point, asking God that no more such wars would ever have to be fought. He further prayed that none of us standing there would ever have to live through the kinds of experiences he'd just described. Then we went off to bed. Two years later I was off to college, and my scouting days were over. I don't recall that we ever asked for any more war stories.
I've long lost track of most of the guys who were on that particular trip. But I know what happened to at least two of them. One was killed in Vietnam when a bulldozer he was operating to clear a road through a jungle flipped over on him. Another one lost his legs in battle during the same conflict. Mr. Roberts' short prayer was one of the more earnest and heartfelt ones I've heard. And it was offered even as the embryonic stages of yet another war were developing, and that would take its terrible toll as well. It would, in fact, reach clear into that circle of us who stood around a fire on a clear summer night during our teenage years.
As I said, I was off to college a couple of years after all this, and from there it was on to theological school. Owing to the deferments I was eligible for, I was never called for military service in the most divisive war, with respect to pubic opinion, in which this country has ever engaged. That includes the current war as public opinion has largely turned against it, even as it continues unabated. I was spared the kinds of terrors my one-time Scoutmaster related. I only know of these terrible realities second hand.
I did stand as another prayer for peace was offered during the Vietnam War; and I know I've told this story before. This one was offered by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in February of 1968 near the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Washington for a gathering of an organization called Clergy and Laity Concerned About Vietnam. Jim Roberts and Martin Luther King - each of their prayers has left an impression on me. The modern day prophet, that Dr. King was, praying for peace on earth; and a combat veteran who'd seen war up close and personal, praying that future generations would be spared what he had seen and experienced. It was the visionary for peace, on the one hand, and someone who provided a sobering reminder of how far short of that vision we as a human family still are on the other. I feel gratitude towards both of these men. I support and yearn for and continue to work for the fulfillment of our 5th UU Principle that seeks "the goal of world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all" while also being deeply mindful of the lives that continue to be sacrificed because of our human failings to attain this goal.
So now we come to Veterans Day, 2007 - observed on this very day. Even the name is tragically telling. This day was originally called Armistice Day, and was originally meant to celebrate the end of a war that was supposed to end all wars, World War I. But instead, it has become a holiday to honor the lives of our fellow countrymen and women that have been lost in all the wars we been engaged in since the First World War. I could dwell on the irony of all of that for a time, but don't feel I need to. It speaks for itself. Neither do I need to point out that Veterans Day 2007 comes in the midst of one of the most senseless and ill conceived wars in which we have ever engaged.
My opposition to the Iraqi War has been pretty clear from the outset, and while my frustration and anger over it have not lessened in any way, I'll hold off on the venting this morning. What I want to offer instead are a couple of observations on what I think our thoughts and offerings should be for the men and women engaged in this conflict, whatever our feelings about it may be - men and women, many of them, who are now living their own version of some of those stories I heard nearly fifty years ago.
I feel they should receive our respect and honor and support for the decision they made to serve in the military, without our foisting upon them our need for heroes and heroines. This past week I finally got around to reading the book I'm a Soldier, Too: The Jessica Lynch Story. It's been over four years now since this young woman from a small and rather isolated West Virginia town - one not too far from the town in which I was raised - was rescued by American forces from an Iraqi hospital where she was being held as a prisoner of war by Iraqi insurgents. Even under those circumstances, it was the Iraqi doctors who very likely saved her life. On March 23rd of 2003, in the very first weeks of our invasion of Iraq, the armored vehicle she was riding in came under heavy attack. Ms. Lynch was severely, and almost mortally, wounded and taken prisoner. She will probably never fully recover from her wounds.
Following her dramatic, and very bravely executed, rescue by American commandos the Pentagon spin machine went into overdrive, and the little lady from Palestine, West Virginia became a female Rambo. Remember, the war was only a few weeks old then, and it had a good level of public support at the time. A good war story could only enhance that support. So, the first round of stories following Ms. Lynch's rescue were about how she had bravely fought back against the insurgents, killing several of them with her automatic rifle before being severely wounded. When she was able to tell her own story, it was Jessica Lynch herself who set the record straight by saying she never even got off a shot because her rifle jammed, and that once the vehicle she was in got hit she remembered nothing until coming to in a makeshift hospital ward.
She went on to say, and write, "I was used as a symbol...to show the war was going great. It doesn't bother me anymore (but) it used to." All I can add to that is to say God bless this plucky young woman from my own home state who, at the age of 21, refused to let herself become a cog in a war propaganda machine. She called the bluff of those who wanted her to be something other than who or what she was. And I don't seem to recall Rush Limbaugh calling Jessica Lynch a "phony soldier" because of her truth-telling. I guess, giving some credit here, he is smart enough to know when he can get away with his cowardly name-calling and when he can't.
As Ms. Lynch also says in the book, the reason she joined the service in the first place - in addition to wanting to serve her country - was so she could move beyond the setting in which she was raised, and which she dearly loved on the one hand, while wanting more out of life for herself on the other. Knowing, quite literally, where she comes from, I can relate to that. She wanted to earn enough money, and become eligible for enough benefits, so she could eventually go to college and become a kindergarten teacher. And while the attention she's received will no doubt help move her towards those goals, she neither asked for, nor desired, to be the fulfillment of a public need for war-time heroes. She only wanted to be respected and honored for what and who she was - I Am A Soldier.
Another thing those now serving in the military, and who have been called into combat, deserve of us is to simply know that we care; whatever our opinions on the war may be. There are any number of ways of doing this; one very simple one came my way a couple of days ago from one of our members, Miriam Swanson. The Walter Reed Army Medical Center will, in the upcoming holiday season, receive greeting cards, and notes of appreciation, for recovering soldiers there from anyone who wishes to send one. I've put the address on the Information table.
[The address is:
A Recovering American Soldier
c/o Walter Reed Army Medical Center
6900 Georgia Avenue NW
Washington, D.C. 20307-5001 ]
This next point should go without saying, but apparently needs to be said nonetheless. Some veterans are deserving of a basic level of care and fairness in this country as they return from fighting on its behalf. An article in last Wednesday's New York Times reported that one-fourth of the homeless persons in this country are veterans - with many of those in need of mental health care. Just this past Friday came stories of a Senate Committee hearing being held to assure that National Guard members who are called to active duty will get their jobs back when they return home. By law those jobs are supposed to be available for them upon their return. But, owing to such a law's not being enforced, a number of guardsmen are coming home to find themselves unemployed. I would hope that the call to "support the troops" extends to those who have done their duty - although that does not appear to always be the case.
One final thing I'll suggest that the men and women serving in this war deserve from us is our simply listening to those among them who wish to speak of their experiences. I more or less stumbled across a website a week or so ago that provides an outlet for returning soldiers from Iraq and Afghanistan to post messages and thoughts. It was initiated, in large part by Gary Trudeau, the author of the Doonesbury comic strip. I've put the web address on the Information Table along with the Walter Reed Hospital address.
[The web address is: http://gocomics.typepad.com.the_sandbox/ ]
As you can probably imagine, there is a wide range of thought and opinion and experiences related there. One that I was particularly struck by was from a returning soldier from a small town in Texas. His name is Alex Horton, and this was only posted two weeks ago. Mr. Horton:
"The nature of this war [referring to Iraq] prevents the public from a full grasp of understanding. In the wars of past generations soldiers volunteered or were drafted by the millions. In the case of World War II families endured rations and donated to the war effort. Almost every single American contributed to victory. In the case of Iraq and Afghanistan the war is squeezed into a half hour of prime time television. In World War II we were a country at war. Now we're a military at war...Unless you have a friend or family member in the military, it's a separate reality.
"In airports and living rooms you can see for yourself the effect in the eyes of a soldier who has been at war for 15 months at a time, hidden behind a smile that conceals a secret you'll never understand."
And then Mr. Horton adds these words: "Like Atlas, we carry the immense burden of a country on our shoulders, waiting for the day, seemingly long in the future, when the American people say, 'That will do.'"
"When the American people say, 'That will do.'" If most opinion polls on the subject are anywhere near accurate, to say nothing of the '06 congressional elections, the American people, in large measure, have already said "That will do" when it comes to the current war in which we're entangled, even as those who took us into it now angle for a "do-over" in Iran. Mr. Horton is surely right when he says that there are things about his experience I'll never understand - shielded as I have been from them. So, speaking only for myself now, one of the ways I want to continue to support, and thank, the Alex Hortons and the Jessica Lynchs who are still in uniform, and still at war, is to keep finding ways of saying "that will do" until the message is finally and fully heard, and finally and fully acted upon.
Even as we struggle with things as they are, we still keep our eyes, our minds, and our hearts focused as well on things as they may yet be. The writer of the Book of Proverbs tells us that "where there is no vision, the people perish." As we honor those who have fought and died in battle, we must not allow our spirits to perish for lack of a vision - however strange of a dream it may sound - of the day "when the dawn of peace, it's splendor, over all the world is sown..."
Stephen D. Edington
November 11, 2007
