Dunge Dispatch: Memorial Day Musings
Memorial Day came and went. In the United States, the last Monday of May is reserved as a federal holiday, to honor our war dead. Some take the time to observe the actual day, commemorating family or loved ones who gave their lives in defense of our country. Many others use the holiday to kickstart their summers, often without so much as a second thought to why they have the day off.
As Memorial Day approached this year, my thoughts turned to those who, by all accounts, should have died in war, but returned home. Their good fortune, though, came at a high cost. This article on Bataan Death March survivor Julio Barela sparked a memory about an chance encounter and acquaintance made after returning to Texas in 2003 upon completion of my time in the Navy.
At a Luby's cafeteria, of all places, my wife and I were in line one evening, and struck up a conversation with the couple behind us. Conversation turned to occupation, and when I replied I just completed a stint in the Navy, the couple humbly and happily shared their service stories: he was an enlisted Navy sailor during World War 2, she was a "Rosie the Riveter" gal (her words) who built B-24 Liberators. And they suggested I come find them after they sat down, as their dinner friend would join them shortly.
We finished our meal and practically forgot about the couple we chatted with while in line. But on our way out, we happened upon their table, and seated with them was a gentleman slightly older than they, who invited us to sit. We insisted on leaving them uninterrupted, but something about his invitation beckoned us to spend a little more time. What we heard first-hand blew our minds.
Sitting across the table from us was a living legend, a survivor of the Bataan Death March. I won't divulge his name, since I respect his family's privacy. But his story, as we asked him to share more, is nothing short of incredible. He grew up on the West Coast and joined the Civilian Conservation Corps as a teenager when times were tough. While working in the CCC, he studied at night to pass the West Point entrance exams, and was accepted. After his commissioning his first post was the Philippines. He married while there, and when war seemed imminent, sent his young bride to her parents who were stateside for safety.
As Memorial Day approached this year, my thoughts turned to those who, by all accounts, should have died in war, but returned home. Their good fortune, though, came at a high cost. This article on Bataan Death March survivor Julio Barela sparked a memory about an chance encounter and acquaintance made after returning to Texas in 2003 upon completion of my time in the Navy.
At a Luby's cafeteria, of all places, my wife and I were in line one evening, and struck up a conversation with the couple behind us. Conversation turned to occupation, and when I replied I just completed a stint in the Navy, the couple humbly and happily shared their service stories: he was an enlisted Navy sailor during World War 2, she was a "Rosie the Riveter" gal (her words) who built B-24 Liberators. And they suggested I come find them after they sat down, as their dinner friend would join them shortly.
We finished our meal and practically forgot about the couple we chatted with while in line. But on our way out, we happened upon their table, and seated with them was a gentleman slightly older than they, who invited us to sit. We insisted on leaving them uninterrupted, but something about his invitation beckoned us to spend a little more time. What we heard first-hand blew our minds.
Sitting across the table from us was a living legend, a survivor of the Bataan Death March. I won't divulge his name, since I respect his family's privacy. But his story, as we asked him to share more, is nothing short of incredible. He grew up on the West Coast and joined the Civilian Conservation Corps as a teenager when times were tough. While working in the CCC, he studied at night to pass the West Point entrance exams, and was accepted. After his commissioning his first post was the Philippines. He married while there, and when war seemed imminent, sent his young bride to her parents who were stateside for safety.
The war years were different for him, because there would be little fighting, mostly surviving. What came after, however, was just as incredible - he resumed his life after the war. He continued to serve in the Army, retiring as a Colonel. Then he earned a PhD and worked another twenty years as a consultant. As he finished his mini autobiography, he smiled and said "... and I still think I've got some more to do yet."
I was, and still am, dumbfounded. Like Julio Barela, this gentle and meek man who survived what can only be described as three and a half years of living hell, survived to live a full life, and felt like there was much more that life had to offer! It's not only extraordinary that he survived World War 2 as a POW, it's extraordinary that he poured his life into a long career with the Army, and then poured his life into earning a doctorate, and poured his life once more into a second career.
And this brings me to my second thought as a result of Memorial Day, which is really a question: what do we, as a country, do with our military and their families? I know that our nation officially honors the military veteran every November 11. Between two federally-recognized days that give homage to the military (and by extension, the families and loved ones who support or have lost a military member), are we, as a country, doing right by our military?
Perhaps its me, but sometimes it feels like the "thank you for your service" comments and retail and restaurant promotions are more for the person extending the comment, than they are for the veteran or military family. As I write this, my sentiment turns to the veterans who, likely for the same reason they volunteered to put on a uniform, want to pour their lives into a calling and career.
As I consider the legacies of former military who have come before, such as the Bataan Death March survivors mentioned here, what can today's veterans do in order to build their own legacies? Perhaps it starts with the civilians among us living up to the intention behind the "thank you for your service." Here are a couple of ideas:
1. Take the time to get to know the veterans and wartime survivors in your community. What does this look like? For starters, sitting down across the table with someone who is former military. Then ask questions, so that their stories are not lost, and so that the ones who did not return home are truly memorialized for the legacies they sacrificed.
2. Take action and create further, intentional opportunities for former military to pour out their lives. What does this look like? To an employer, for example, giving former military a fighting chance to show you what they can do for your company, and then doing right by them in return by giving that former military a promotion, or a raise, or some kind of purposeful action that shows you stand behind your comments.
There's much more I can say about how former military can be treated better in the corporate world, but that's another post for another time.
-- Dunge
I was, and still am, dumbfounded. Like Julio Barela, this gentle and meek man who survived what can only be described as three and a half years of living hell, survived to live a full life, and felt like there was much more that life had to offer! It's not only extraordinary that he survived World War 2 as a POW, it's extraordinary that he poured his life into a long career with the Army, and then poured his life into earning a doctorate, and poured his life once more into a second career.
And this brings me to my second thought as a result of Memorial Day, which is really a question: what do we, as a country, do with our military and their families? I know that our nation officially honors the military veteran every November 11. Between two federally-recognized days that give homage to the military (and by extension, the families and loved ones who support or have lost a military member), are we, as a country, doing right by our military?
Perhaps its me, but sometimes it feels like the "thank you for your service" comments and retail and restaurant promotions are more for the person extending the comment, than they are for the veteran or military family. As I write this, my sentiment turns to the veterans who, likely for the same reason they volunteered to put on a uniform, want to pour their lives into a calling and career.
As I consider the legacies of former military who have come before, such as the Bataan Death March survivors mentioned here, what can today's veterans do in order to build their own legacies? Perhaps it starts with the civilians among us living up to the intention behind the "thank you for your service." Here are a couple of ideas:
1. Take the time to get to know the veterans and wartime survivors in your community. What does this look like? For starters, sitting down across the table with someone who is former military. Then ask questions, so that their stories are not lost, and so that the ones who did not return home are truly memorialized for the legacies they sacrificed.
2. Take action and create further, intentional opportunities for former military to pour out their lives. What does this look like? To an employer, for example, giving former military a fighting chance to show you what they can do for your company, and then doing right by them in return by giving that former military a promotion, or a raise, or some kind of purposeful action that shows you stand behind your comments.
There's much more I can say about how former military can be treated better in the corporate world, but that's another post for another time.
-- Dunge
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