Posted on by Californiacontrarian

Thank You, Michael

This year Memorial Day weekend has turned out to be different and unique for me because of three separate things, all of which happened over the last day or so. What makes these three unrelated things even more eerie is that each is a “Michael-thing,” as I will explain. 

The first “Michael-thing” was sent to me in an e-mail by a acquaintance of mine, Michael Mc. It was a YouTube video entitled “Price for Freedom,” which was a display of multiple cemeteries, mainly scattered throughout Europe (Italy, 4402; Luxembourg, 5076; Sicily, 7861; Netherlands, 8301; multiple areas in France with thousands of graves in each) and also in North Africa and the Philippines (16,366). Set to the music of “Hymn to the Fallen” by John Williams, each of these cemeteries had row upon row of graves marked only by white crosses. Thousands and thousands and thousands of graves, each one for an American serviceman killed in battle. The final cemetery with its approximately 303,000 graves was Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia. A truly moving video. These are the real heroes. Thank you, Michael Mc.
The second “Michael-thing” was an article in this weekend’s Wall Street Journal by Michael M. Phillips entitled The Medals They Carried, which chronicled multiple Medal of Honor recipients. For those not familiar with the Medal of Honor, it is America’s highest award for combat valor, and as the article points out, “it is both a gift and a reminder of what is often the worst day of a veteran’s life.” While detailing unbelievable acts of bravery by recipients of the Medal of Honor, the article emphasizes how difficult it is for some of these recipients to wear or even view the Medal because many of their comrades died despite their valor. These are real heroes. Thank you, Michael Phillips.
The third “Michael-thing” was pure serendipity, as yesterday when I was pushing my granddaughter in her stroller, we ran into my neighbor, Michael. Even though Michael has lived only two houses from me for about twenty years, I have never really gotten to know him. He is quiet, sometimes bordering on aloof, and on more than one occasion I have refrained from asking him about his “Oxford” scarf. Anyway yesterday for whatever reason, he was unusually garrulous and started talking about the recent 50th reunion of his Vietnam unit. He spoke of Vietnam things that he could not remember very well and also talked about the one thing he could remember very very well . . . the day that he lost thirty-five of his men during a Vietcong ambush. He was a medic, and thirty-five of his comrades were killed in a single afternoon . . . “I could not save them, and I still wake up nights, terrified, in a sweat, even though it’s been fifty years!” Where did this catharsis come from? Why did I never suspect that my neighbor was a Vietnam War hero? Thank you, Michael.
I consider myself a big backer of the military. Even though I was in the Navy for many years, I was never in combat, and never had to put my life on the line. Perhaps that is why I never stand at athletic events when the PA announcer asks that all veterans stand in order to be recognized. I stay sitting so that I can applaud the real heroes, like those buried in unmarked graves marked only by white crosses, those who have distinguished themselves by their acts of unheralded bravery, and those like my neighbor, Michael.
5/27/19

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