While many view Memorial Day as just another three day weekend and opportunity to have a BBQ, that’s not what this day is really about. It’s about remembering those who fell in combat to keep this country great. And rather than a day of celebration, I know this to be a day of mourning for many of you who lost loved ones and comrades in arms. For those struggling with that, please try to remember not how those heroes died, but rather how they lived and how much they loved their country . . . enough to give their lives for it. They will live in our memories forever.
For all my veteran friends, some of whom frequent this site and for those of you who I do not yet know but may happen to see this by chance, for all of the families, for all of the friends of the fallen . . . this post is for all of your brothers and sisters who gave their all for this country and did not come home. I will remember them always but I feel that the words, music, and pictures of others that I have selected here will convey my emotions on this, great American remembrance day than I could ever hope to do myself.
I am the fallen soldier, sailor, airman, and Marine.
Remember me.
I am the one that held the line.
Sometimes I volunteered. Sometimes I went because I was told to go.
But when the nation called – I answered.
In order to serve, I left behind the family, friends, and freedom that so many take for granted.
Over time, I used different weapons: a sword, a musket, a bayonet, a rifle, a machine gun.
Often, I marched into battle on foot – countless miles – across whole continents. I had little water and even less food. But it did not matter. We had a job to do.
Other times, I rode to battle on horseback or in wagons; sometimes on trains; later in tanks or Jeeps or Humvees.
In early wars, my ships were made of wood and powered by the wind.
Later they were made of steel and powered by diesel fuel or the atom.
I even took to the air and mastered the sky in planes, helicopters, and jets.
The machines of war evolved and changed with the times.
But remember that it was always me – the warrior – that had to fight our nation’s enemies.
I fought at Lexington and Concord as our nation was born.
I crossed the Delaware on Christmas day in 1776. Freedom was on our side.
I defended The Chattahoochee river in the War of 1812. I would stand again.
In the Civil War, I fought with my brothers – and against my brothers – at Gettysburg and Shiloh and Bull Run. I learned that we must never again divide.
In World War l, I marched on the Marne and held the line at Belleau Wood. The War to end all wars, they called it. I just called it hell.
In World War ll, I fought everywhere: from the beaches of Normandy and the Battle of the Bulge, to the sands of Iwo Jima and the hell of Guadalcanal. I stood against tyranny and kept darkness from consuming the world.
In Korea I landed at Inchon and broke out of the Chosin Reservoir. They called it the forgotten war – but I never forgot.
In Vietnam, I went and I fought in the Mekong Delta and at Ia Drang and Khe Sanh and Hamburger hill. Some say my country waivered. But I did not waiver. Ever.
In the recent past I have fought in Grenada, Panama, Somalia, and other desperate places around the globe.
And finally I have fought in Iraq and Afghanistan. In Baghdad, Fallujah, and Ramadi.
In Kunar, Helmand, and Kandahar.
As technology advanced, I used night vision goggles and global positioning systems and drones and lasers and thermal optics.
But it was still me, a human being, that did the work.
It was me that patrolled up the mountains or across the desert or though the streets.
It was me that suffered in the merciless heat and the bitter cold.
It was me that went out, night after night, to confront our nation’s enemies and confront evil face to face.
It was me.
Remember me. I was a warrior.
But also remember:
That I was not only a warrior.
I was not just a soldier, sailor, airman, or Marine.
Remember also: that I was a son, a brother, a father.
I was a daughter, a sister, a mother.
I was a person – like you – a real person with hopes and dreams for the future.
I wanted to have children.
I wanted to watch my children grow up.
I wanted to see my son score a touchdown or shoot the winning basket.
I wanted to walk my daughter down the aisle.
I wanted to kiss my wife again.
I wanted to grow old with her – and be there to hold her hand when life grew hard.
When I told her I would be with her until the end – I meant it.
When I told my children I would always be there for them – I meant it.
But I gave all that away.
All of it.
On that distant battlefield, on some god-forsaken patch of dirt, amongst the fear and the fire and the bullets.
Or in the sky above enemy territory filled with flak.
Or on the unforgiving sea where we fought against the enemy and against the depths of the abyss.
There, in those awful places: I held the line.
I did not waiver and I did not hesitate.
I: The Soldier, Sailor, Airman, or Marine.
I stood my ground and sacrificed my life – my future, my hopes, my dreams.
I sacrificed everything – for you.
This Memorial Day, remember me: the fallen warrior.
And remember me not for my sake – but for yours.
Remember what I sacrificed so you can truly appreciate the incredible treasures you have: Life. Liberty. The pursuit of happiness.
You have the joys of life, the joys that I gave up, so that you can relish in them:
A cool wind in the air.
The gentle spring grass on your bare feet.
The warm summer sun on your face.
Family. Friends. And freedom.
Never forget where it all came from.
It came from sacrifice: The supreme sacrifice.
Don’t waste it. Don’t waste any of your time on this earth.
Live a life that honors the sacrifice of our fallen heroes.
Remember them always. And make every day… Memorial Day.
And this one, from Vietnam . . .
The Patriot Files
Major O’Donnell was listed as MIA while piloting a helicopter on a mission in Cambodia on 24 March 1970. His remains were recovered and interned at Arlington National Cemetery on 16 August 2001.
If you are able,
save them a place
inside of you
and save one backward glance
when you are leaving
for the places they can
no longer go.
Be not ashamed to say
you loved them,
though you may
or may not have always.
Take what they have left
and what they have taught you
with their dying
and keep it with your own.
And in that time
when men decide and feel safe
to call the war insane,
take one moment to embrace
those gentle heroes
you left behind.Major Michael Davis O’Donnell
1 January 1970
Dak To, Vietnam
God bless all of our fallen warriors . . . and those yet to come. May they be few.
