Our Fathers and Memorial Day: They Had a Rendezvous with Death, but Wouldn’t Talk About It

By John Kass

Memorial Day, May 29, 2023

So what are you going to do on Memorial Day?

Since Americans treat Memorial Day as the opening of summer, many of us will do a serious amount of grilling, meat smoking and eat some delicious ribs, chicken, Italian and Polish sausage and golden cobs of sweet corn and beans.

But isn’t there something else to chew on for Memorial Day that doesn’t involve eating, drinking and watching car races before they’re all outlawed by the radical anti-human environmentalists?

Others of us living near major cities like Chicago will count casualties in the urban war zones, with thousands of people shot every year and hundreds murdered, as politicians wring their hands desperately. The politicians, most of them Democrats, don’t want to put violent thugs in jail because that might hurt their political fortunes. They don’t want to be thought ill of by Soros Democrats. They expect us to take our chances.

And in the cemeteries in and around Chicago, as we plant flowers at graves, we’ll also have to look over our shoulders and assess potential threats. Because today is a day for the graveyard, lest we forget.  So were other days leading up to this day. We took flowers out to the cemeteries, and hand trowels and black dirt. Watering cans. We were about preparing our obligations for Memorial Day.

Some of us took incense to the graves. Some of us took along the prayers of our fathers and forefathers, too, and said those prayers aloud as the incense wafted among the flowers and the gravestones and the tiny American flags.

Memorial Day is the national day of mourning to honor our war dead. I’d like to think that a few of us would push away from that second piece of blueberry pie and think of those who survived, too.  About those combat veterans who had a rendezvous with death. They didn’t talk much about it. They didn’t see themselves as glorious warriors, telling glorious stories. They weren’t show ponies.

They had a job to do and when it was done they raised their families. My father was a combat soldier in World War II in the mountains of Albania. My grandfather fought in France in World War I and again in World War II.  And my father-in-law Donald Castella was wounded near the murderous beaches of Normandy, only to get patched up in time for the murderous Ardennes Forrest and the Battle of the Bulge.

And my dear friend Thom Serafin’s father, Capt. Mitchell Serafin, a Pennsylvania farm boy who joined the Army Air Corps and captained 53 bomber missions in Europe and North Africa until they told him his war was over and ripped out his heart.

(His bomber crew is featured in the photo at the top of this column. Mitchell Serafin is the tall 6-foot 4-inch guy with the big hands in the back row.)

And I’ll also be thinking about a fellow named Alan Seger. You might not know about Seger. A poet who joined the French Foreign Legion. Americans don’t read poetry now. Some may think that rap is poetry, but songs about rolling in the gutter like dogs are not poetry and calling women “bitches” is not poetry. Seger did not live to debate the question. Shortly after he wrote “I Have a Rendezvous with Death,” he was killed at the Battle of the Somme.

Alan Seeger

I Have a Rendezvous with Death

BY ALAN SEEGER

I have a rendezvous with Death

At some disputed barricade,

When Spring comes back with rustling shade

And apple-blossoms fill the air—

I have a rendezvous with Death

When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand

And lead me into his dark land

And close my eyes and quench my breath—

It may be I shall pass him still.

I have a rendezvous with Death

On some scarred slope of battered hill,

When Spring comes round again this year

And the first meadow-flowers appear.

God knows ’twere better to be deep

Pillowed in silk and scented down,

Where Love throbs out in blissful sleep,

Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,

Where hushed awakenings are dear …

But I’ve a rendezvous with Deathdona

At midnight in some flaming town,

When Spring trips north again this year,

And I to my pledged word am true,

I shall not fail that rendezvous.

Source: A Treasury of War Poetry (1917)

But other men I mentioned here today did not die in combat.  I suppose some of you may say they have no business here. And that my father wore the uniform of the Greek Army in the mountains of Albania and later against the Communists in desperate house-to-house fighting in the bloody Greek Civil War.

But he lived. As did my father-in-law and my grandfather, my father-in-law and Captain Serafin. Who really “survives” combat? How much of themselves do they leave behind? Are they ever the same, and when they shave do they see a different version of themselves?

And those of you who are sticklers about who should be remembered and who should not might say that those who lived do not belong here.

My father and Betty’s dad would never ask to be included. They would never beg you. When I was a little boy and my dad became a U.S. citizen, the federal judge asked if he’d take up arms against his former nation–the nation he’d bled for-if the American president asked it of him. He said yes.

But he wouldn’t ask you. Neither would my grandfather Peter Kefalas, who was in combat in both World Wars. And neither would Capt. Serafin, who flew those 52 missions as a bomber pilot in North Africa, most of them without fighter escort and others, later, in Europe.  They were of the great generations. They were men. They didn’t want a hug from you. Or your validation of their feelings. That would have embarrassed them.

All they wanted was that you’d be free.

After his father died in 1993, a high school classmate wrote a secret letter to the Serafin family. Mitchell Serafin was a star athlete but also was to be the class valedictorian, but there was another girl who was desperate to win the academic prize. Mitchell Serafin flubbed a grade or two to make certain she’d win top honors, but he never told family or friends.

He never spoke of it, like all those missions. That’s old school. And America has forgotten the old school ways.

“Think of it. 52 missions,” said friend Thom of his father.

I told him I couldn’t. My knees would have turned to jelly. Thom said he didn’t think he could do it, either. He asked his dad.

“Yeah, you could do it,” said his father. “It was a job and it had to be done. You’d do it.”

“One morning his hands were shaking uncontrollably. He couldn’t get them to stop shaking and he got worried went to the doctor on the base and the doctor said ‘You’re done. Your war is over.”

Capt. Mitchell Serafin left the family farm in Oil City, Pennsylvania after enlisting in December 1941 after Pearl Harbor. He was stationed in Benghazi for the North African campaign. He led the second daylight bombing raid on Germany. His last mission was on D-Day,

Like so many men of older, great generations, he had a job to to. And it wasn’t about talking about feelings. His job was to secure American liberty and freedom.

Old School.

Memorial Day 2023.

Lest we forget.

Mitchell Serafin

 

-30-

Comments 55

  1. John,

    Some beautiful word pictures you’ve painted that should cause a lot of thinking and appreciating.
    The War One and War Two guys* were special in a way that will never be understood by too many Americans.

    *And ‘gals’ – the ones who come to mind were those all-female aircraft crews who ferried the bombers across the Atlantic to get them in the hands of the crews attacking the Nazis. Gutsy ladies.

    “They didn’t talk much about it.”

    So true. My father was a WWI Vet who never talked about the actual combat, but sometimes would talk about his friends and the time they spent in England before going over “there”.

    Our Company Gunny (WWII and Korea Vet – Infantry Grunt his whole career) aboard a troopship heading for Vietnam in June of 65 explained part it.

    A bunch of us 18/19 year old PFC’s were bugging him one day to tell us what combat was like.

    In his low key way, he told us: “Boys, if you’ve been there, I don’t have to tell you about it. If you ain’t been there, I cain’t. True words.

    I was never a fan of Tom Brockaw, but he sure got the title of his book right.

  2. We must teach our young to respect the Flag and these BRAVE MEN THAT GAVE THEIR LIVES FOR THEM to be free to do the stupid things they do today. We must take our Country back from Stores like Target and Budweiser, and

    1. WE MUST TAKE BACK OUR SCHOOLS AND DESOLVE THE TEACHERS UNIONS ON A NATIONAL LEVEL. Just finished the book from the Refuge from Korea and it is a

  3. I have a picture right here on my laptop that looks exactly like the one at the top. Of course the people in the picture are different. And all those in my picture are dead. They all died together in the skies over Europe. My uncle, the one I never met, was the co-pilot on that B-17. They died for me to live free. And for most of my life I did just that. But not anymore. Dare I say they died in vain? They fought the thugs who would take our freedom. This generation surrendered to the thugs who now run the people who run the country. I grieve for those who gave everything so we could surrender without a fight.

  4. I remember a young man who lived across the street from me. He became a Marine and was tasked with guarding a munitions building. He was murdered at 21 so thieves could get into the building to resell the goods. The Marines told his mother that a fellow Marine was cleaning a rifle in the barracks and accidentally killed him. Patently false.

  5. Great article today, John. We owe much to “The Greatest Generation.” Our younger generations today do not seemingly appreciate the sacrifices that our fathers and grandfathers have made for our freedoms. They don’t understand our systems such as Federalism and capitalism, and others. The freedoms that we enjoy are being slowly eroded by the politicians of today.

    Today, I pray that our country survives. I worry that my grandchildren may have less freedom than those that I grew up with in the years following WWII.

    May God continue to bless this country with the Patriots to thrive many years into the future.

  6. My Dad came home from the War in the Pacidic in December 1945. He had been in combat since September 1943.
    He fought at Bougainville, Guam and Iwo Jima. I have photo of my Dad taken shorty after his return from the war. He was twenty when he attended awedding in Soring of 1945. His eyes say it all- this guy killed many people.
    He came home and many of his shipmates of the 3rd Marines did not.
    Remember our war dead. Memory is what preserves our nor, traditions and way of life.

    1. My farther in law was a Capitan and fought with 1st Marines at Guadalcanal, New Britain and Peleliu. He was reassigned to 3rd Marines and was on Guam, working the sand tables as they developed plans for the invasion of Japan. I was alone with him on the 50th anniversary of the Hiroshima bombing and asked him about the weight and controversies of Truman’s decision. His reply was befitting of Alan Seeger’s poem; I Have a Rendezvous with Death. “We were dead men walking, knowing most would not survive.” Then, He wiped away a tear and said, “I’ve killed a lot of men, I hope the good Lord accepts me to Heaven”.

  7. I miss the column the Tribune used to reprint for years on Memorial Day “ Hoist a glass for Red” which was a touching obituary a daughter wrote for her father. It was a simple story about a simple man who served his country and other with honor.

    The woke Tribune must have felt it might possibly offend one or two people and stopped printing it along with the classic Indian Summer painting it printed on Thanksgiving.

    The present day Tribune is but a mere shell of what a once great newspaper was.

    1. Hey Lou – let’s offend the Tribune and every other lefty who might make the mistake of checking John’s column today.
      Semper Fidelis!

      Editor’s note: This editorial first appeared in the Tribune on Memorial Day 2001.

      The primary purpose of Memorial Day is to honor those who have sacrificed their lives to defend this country.
      There have, though, been many millions of others who gave portions of their lives to warfare but survived. This day is theirs too. Most, like a former Chicagoan named Red Madsen, have come home from wars to lead ordinary lives. Not that their lives are the same as they would have been if they hadn’t seen the bloodshed, the shattered lives, the lonely deaths. Many carry to the grave more unspoken memories than they would like. Those memories help shape, often profoundly, who they are and what they believe.
      Yet when the time comes to write their obituaries, their military service and all it meant to them get reduced to a few lines. Not so with Red. When he died, his daughter, Patricia, wrote an obit that wove Red’s military experience into the rest of his life. She knew he had advanced, island by island, with U.S. troops approaching Japan in the weeks before two atomic bombs ended World War II.
      Not until after Red’s death, though, did she learn he had earned a Bronze Star for combat heroism. He’d never mentioned it.
      The obit was submitted to The Des Moines Register, where it charmed a young reporter who came across it. He shared it with a few friends. Since then, ever-fainter photocopies have quietly circulated throughout the Midwest.
      Here, with Patricia Anne Madsen’s permission, is an excerpt from her celebration of her father’s life:
      .
      Harry N. “Red” Madsen, 76, retired railroad brakeman, died Sept. 15, 1996, in Audubon, Iowa, 13 miles from where he was born.
      After graduating from Audubon High School, he moved to Chicago. Shortly after Pearl Harbor, he enlisted in the Army, which put him in the Signal Corps. During training, he met Betty Kaplan, of Brooklyn, N.Y., and married her in Stuart, Fla., before he was shipped to the Pacific. When the Army finally let Red go in 1946, he and Betty settled in Chicago. He returned to Audubon and Westphalia, Iowa, working as a custom butcher. He later worked the railroad, most of the time for the Chicago & North Western. He married three times, with two of his spouses passing away.
      Red Madsen loved his wives, his kids, everybody else’s kids, his family, dogs, fishing, whittling, doodling, reading (especially Mark Twain), Cord automobiles, hoisting a few with friends and telling stories. It pleased him that mischief might break out at any time, but it distressed him if anyone got hurt by it, unless maybe it was some powerful S.O.B. who deserved it.
      He hated hypocrisy, racial injustice (or any other kind), war and giving orders. He worked hard, played hard, loved hard, and there was not much in the world that didn’t interest him. If he knew you could use $20 and he had it to give, you’d have it. He despised locks and rarely used them — liked to say that if some poor so-and-so needed something that badly, he shouldn’t have to break in too.
      He left very little behind except exasperated commanders, bemused bosses, charmed waitresses and a special place in the heart of nearly everyone who ever met him, all of whom are happy he has been released from pain and sorry as hell to lose him.
      Contributions may be made as follows: Hoist one in Red’s memory and overtip the waitress by a fair factor. If you can’t stop at one, just overtip the waitress — she needs it more than you. Give a bum a dollar, maybe five, and for once, don’t worry about what he’ll do with it. Learn something new. Make a fool of yourself so a child will laugh. Help get food to the hungry and don’t worry about whether they deserve it. Don’t worry about being safe.
      In fact, don’t waste much energy worrying at all. Let life break your heart, and not just once. Love your neighbor and yourself and your God, if you’re lucky enough to have one, with your whole heart. Every now and then, when no one is looking, go ahead and pick a flower you’re not supposed to pick, but quick as you can, give it to someone.
      Remember, the second year the same person plants sweet corn next to where you work, they must mean for you to have some, because they know what happened last year.
      And if someone uses a racial epithet around you, let ’em know that you’d just as soon they didn’t, because Red Madsen and a lot of other guys got shot at by people who thought that way, and you don’t want to be on the same side as anybody who would take a shot at Red.

  8. My Dad and two of his brothers were WWII Veterans, and it was people like them who were my heroes when I was a kid. One day my Dad, Mom, and I were shopping in Gary, IN (which meant that my Mom shopped and my Dad and I found someplace to sit). We were sitting on a bench on Broadway, and I heard a man from across the street holler “Hey, Mac”- my Dad looked at me and said “Stand up, right now, stand up”, which I did. The man came across the street and my Dad introduced me. I stepped up to shake his hand, just like I was taught- good firm grip and look him dead in the eye.

    After a few minutes the man left and my Dad looked at me and said “I don’t care what you are doing or where you’re at, when you see that man, you stand up”. I learned later that he was a guy from Gary who had been in the Army in the Philippines when the Japanese invaded. He was captured, later escaped, and fought with the guerillas for two years against the Japanese. He was again captured and somehow survived the “Bataan Death March”.

    You’re damn right I’ll stand up for him, and for any other Veteran who wrote a check “Payable to the United States of America”, in the amount of “Up to and including my life”, and then had the courage to sign it.

    Glad to see you writing and making your Greek ancestors proud, Mr. Kass- please don’t overdo the recovery- day at a time.

  9. Great remembrance. We toss around words like sacrifice, hero etc too casually these days. My old friend was a guy named Walter Ehlers, look him up. He was in “the back half of the first wave” at Omaha Beach. I told him I didn’t think I could do it…..he quickly replied that I could because you were trained in the right way so you could.

    Everyone that goes into battle gets tremendous training. They are prepared.

    The problem is, every killing is so random. It could be you or it could be the other guy.

    My father-in-law and uncle were in Korea and Vietnam respectively. Neither will talk about it. I will read Allan Lynch’s Facebook today for sure. He received the Medal of Honor in Vietnam, which you can see on display at the Pritzker Military Library.

    Amazing people. Citizen soldiers.

  10. I knew Mitch Serafin as the tall, graying man who ran the family business in Peoria. Along with Pierre and Thom and the rest of the extended family. Mr. Serafin smiled and joked with the many loyal customers looking for bargains. Occasionally he snarled when adverising salespeople came calling. Snarled gently. That was way back in the 1980’s when I “knew” Mitch Serafin. But I really didn’t know Mr. Serafin until I read this Memorial Day column. My salute today is more than three decades overdue.

    1. I should have written “glanced somewhat suspiciously when advertising salespeople came calling”. I don’t recall that Mr. Strafing ever snarled.

  11. Without a parade nearby and not finding a “Sergeant York” broadcast, I was expecting to experience nothing public about Memorial Day this year. So reading Mr. Kass’ column just now was both a nice surprise (in the current climate) and a reminder of the loyalty and courage shown over many decades by so many American defenders.

    We readers can reflect on the continuation of JKN involving a victory within challenge. Appreciation of our great country and the prospect of Chicago survival shouldn’t be taken for granted, and JKN is an important resource for that.

    Here’s a little veterans’ chapter I know of: On one night in 1944 a 19-year-old from Onarga, Illinois spent a long hour with another G.I. staying still and silent in a ditch while two soldiers smoked and chatted in German at the open hatch of a tank above them. This was Edward Mason Bittinger. We kids often urged him to repeat that episode, which he might do quietly, shyly. I’ve sometimes thought of The Greatest Generation as The Modest Generation.

    Plenty to remain grateful for now, including the opportunity to restore the America that earlier generations defended as their own family’s home.

  12. So many men in my family served. My great grandfather in WWI, my grandfather in WWII, my father in law received a Purple Heart in Korea, my uncle also served in Korea, my father served during a time of peace, my cousin was killed in Vietnam, another uncle served in Vietnam. I was extremely fortunate to have known all of these men with the exception of 2 of them in my life. But those 2 that I never knew, have never been forgotten. Their stories and legacies still live on in our family. I hope my daughter continues to remember the sacrifices our family made to our country when she has children of her own someday.

  13. You’re right, John, about thinking who should be included. My husband’s best friend (Lenny Roberts) since they grew up on 56th & Ada Street as kids, served courageously in Vietnam. Though wounded severely himself, he managed to carry another wounded Marine several miles to a field hospital, where both were treated while their families lost touch…but thankfully managed to survive. He was plagued with the effects of Agent Orange and the many shrapnel wounds he carried with him with his oxygen tank until his death. Another friend thought at one time he wanted to be a priest but ended up volunteering for several dangerous missions in the jungles. Unfortunately he never recovered from the horrors and ended his young life too soon when he got home. They are but 2 that we knew personally who didn’t die on site but surely died from serving gallantly. I think anyone who serves in combat dies a little inside even if their wounds are invisible….so, yes, I think remembering those who died while serving, or later of related causes, should be remembered and thanked for all they gave! God bless all who put on a U.S. Armed Forces uniform to serve our country and preserve the freedoms most of us still cherish!

  14. God bless Captain Serafin, and all the heroes who have helped make this country the greatest in history. My Italian grandfather, an Alpini in WWI, endured brutal fighting and conditions in the Alps for the duration. He survived, and emigrated legally to America. My dad was in Army Intelligence in Tokyo during the Occupation. An uncle was an Army Air Force bombardier in WWII. During a card game in England, someone in the large assembled crew hollered out, “hey, anyone here from Cicero?” My uncle grinned and said, “yeah, me. What about it?”

  15. “They wouldn’t talk about it.”

    Same with my dad. He flew 50 missions in 1944 as part of a B-17 crew, with a bomb group stationed in Foggia, Italy. Never talked about it when I was a kid.
    But later in life he became active in his bomb group reunions. They would meet yearly, and it was then that he finally opened up. I guess being around those who experienced what he did broke that shell he kept around his memories.
    Dad died in 2019 at 95 years old. A few years before Dad passed away, my husband recorded him speaking of the war, growing up in Gary, building his house in Crown Point. It’s about two hours long.
    Someday I want to listen to it. But I still don’t know if I get through it …

  16. Beautiful, John.

    Your writing has been sorely missed.

    Thank God that there are men like you to remind us of others like those you mention in today’s piece.

  17. Wonderful column, John. My dad (Army medic D-Day) younger brothers (USAAF bombadier ETO) (USN PTO) and older sister (Head nurse at large hospital – everyone called HER “Sarge”) On my moms side her older brother (USN) and husbands and boyfriends of her sisters all served. They are all gone now. Growing up I remember few if any times hearing war stories being exchanged. I do know the joy felt and freely discussed, about when my dad and one uncle crossed paths in Paris on leave. All did their jobs overseas and came home to raise families and hold down solid jobs and further help to build this country. Because real history is not taught , only the revisionist claptrap of the left, kids have no idea what it took to get us here. Freedom isn’t free. It is not a handout. It has to be earned. Basic values are not instilled at home or school. Those who oppose us kniw thst and are even today exploiting that under our noses.

    Locally Brandon’s plan to reduce the police budget by 36% will turn a city once beautiful like Detroit in its prime into a shell of itself. Anyone who can flee will do so. Police and fire will look for laterals in increasing numbers. People like Ofc Preston will go elsewhere for a career. I despair for my kids. Thee us no socialist utopia. Chicago like socialism fails when there are no longer people to pay for it. That is where we are headed locally and nationally.

  18. Thank you John for a great article. My father joined the Navy the day after Pearl Harbor, when he was 31 years old. My parents were married at the time, but had no children. After he came home, he went to college on the GI bill. I remember going to parades & services with my parents & my two sisters to celebrate Memorial Day. The only thing my dad told us was that he was a Sea Bee in the war. Years later I discovered my father-in-law was also a Sea Bee & he and my dad were on the same island at the same time, but never met. My husband & I went to Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery to help place flags to honor all those who served. We also helped place wreaths in December. It was our 1st time doing both, but we will continue to volunteer. God bless all the military heroes.

  19. My father served in WWII in Alaska and the South Pacific. He never really talked too much about his service until much later in his life. I think he wanted to be sure we all knew he was a patriot, as well as hating war and what it does to a man. He asked the Lord for forgiveness after having killed for his country, and he told us he heard God’s voice, “You are forgiven.”

    For most there is a portion of guilt that accompanies killing another human being. So I agree that being in war does indeed “kill” part of a person, whether they physically survive or not.

    Thank you, John, for writing this column. God bless you and your family on this Memorial Day. God bless all veterans and all those servicemen who have gone before us.

    1. When in the seminary I was taught, in theological terms, WAR IS A SIN. This has nothing to do whether a particular war is justified or whether isolated incidents in a soldier’s war was right or wrong. The point is that WAR as a human enterprise IS A MATTER OF SIN. It is a form of hatred for one’s fellow human beings. It produces alienation from others and nihilism and IT ULTIMATELY REPRESENTS TURNING AWAY FROM GOD.
      When as a medical student working in a V. A. hospital during height of Vietnam war if you asked a combat veteran struggling to piece his or her life together about God, you would see the raw vitriol and pain pour out. They see that war is not clean or noble, but venal and frightening. They see into wars essence, WHICH IS DEATH. They have seen in the corrupt heart of America at that time, into the emptiness of its most sacred institutions, into our staggering hypocrisy and those of us who refuse to heed their words become complicit in the evil they denounce.
      The words these veterans speak are painful. As a nation we prefer to listen to those who speak from the patriotic script. We prefer to hear ourselves exalted. If veterans speak of terrible wounds visible or invisible, of the lies told to make them kill, of evil committed in our name, we cover our ears so as to not hear. No not our boys, we say. No, no, no not them, bred in our homes, endowed with goodness and decency. For if it is easy for them to kill, what about us? And so it is easier and more comfortable not to hear. We do not listen to the angry words that pour from their lips, wishing only that they would calm down, be reasonable, get some help, AND GO AWAY. We brand our veterans as madmen but it is us that are deformed because we cast them aside. This is why so many veterans are estranged and enraged. Is it any wonder so many succumb to crime, addiction and suicide.

      1. “WAR IS A SIN.”
        “Is it any wonder so many succumb to crime, addiction and suicide.”

        Is lying still a sin?

        Of all the wars this country has fought – righteously – the only Veterans to be vilified by our own people (people like you) are the Vietnam Vets.

        People like you have convinced yourselves that any accusation, lie, or slander, no matter how foul, is OK.

        The pure fact is that Vietnam Veterans came home and got on with their lives better than any other group of Veterans. More highly educated, higher than average income, lower divorce rates, and MUCH lower rates of incarceration.

        (B. G. Burkett’s book “Stolen Valor” was written to counteract the lies told by people like you.)

        But you just keep right on spewing YOUR hatred and filth and wallow in your own shortcomings.

        With people like you working in the VA hospital, it is no wonder that we got such rotten care when we came home. It is because people like you hated us and 50 years later you still do.

        I won’t more explicitly express my contempt for you (there are ladies present), but I am curious if you’re the Dr. Thomas Rudd who got charged with all those felony perjury charges a few years back.

        The Internet being what it is, it won’t take long to answer my own question.

        1. Major error on my part:

          “More highly educated, higher than average income, lower divorce rates, and MUCH lower rates of incarceration, THAN THEIR PEERS WHO DID NOT SERVE IN THE MILITARY”.

        2. My father flew in multiple flights USAAC (US Army Air Corp) during WWll, multiple uncles served in WWll, wife’s nephew is Colonel in US Army, served 2 tours in Iraq, 1 in Afganistan, cousin served in US Coast Guard when sometimes was sent to Vietnam, etc. How many enemy did you kill in your time of service?

          A great American said about our time in Vietnam:

          ‘God didn’t call on America to do what she is doing in the world now. God didn’t call America to engage in a senseless, unjust war in Vietnam. AND WE ARE CRIMINALS IN THAT WAR. WE’VE COMMITTED MORE WARS CRIMES ALMOST THAN ANY NATION IN THE WORLD, and I am going to continue to say it. And we won’t stop it because of our pride and arrogance as a nation.’
          Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
          1968

          1. OK. So your relatives served.
            Kind of makes me infer you opted out of serving your country, otherwise you would have told us about YOUR service.

            You rebutted none of the points I made, nor did you answer my question.

            Oh, and that same “great American” is the one same guy who decided the seventh commandment didn’t apply to him.

      2. With all due respect, sir, I and others would be interested to know about this ‘seminary’. Surely you were taught of the wars in the Old Testament, in the inspired words of God Himself; surely you’ve read of Paul’s letter to the Ephesians – encouraging them to fearlessly put on the “full armor of God”! Surely you know that Protestants, Catholics and Jews alike all sent and continue to send chaplains into the military.

        Your depiction of America’s veterans and their relationship with God would be insulting to those in my family who served and came home to be strong Christian leaders – for their families, their communities and their churches. One cousin who served in Viet Nam is still with us – the rest have gone to be with the Lord. He was called upon to witness and to do things you can’t even imagine. Today? He is a strong, committed Christian husband, father and grandfather….proud of his service. I sincerely hope no one would even think to show him what you wrote.

        Family members who served in WW2 and Viet Nam were not angry men, cast aside by our country!!! And, they were not ‘cast aside’ by the family, friends, neighbors, co-workers, fellow churchmen or anyone else. They died as proud heroes, honored by many at their passing.

        My former Police Chief is a proud Viet Nam vet, U.S. Army, awarded a purple heart, and more than a few other honors. His appointment is the one of which I was most proud, and I will tell you with the utmost sincerity that it would not be in your best interest to make the statements you made in your post here directly to his face – man to man. You would not come out ahead in that encounter, sir.

        Maybe you’re upset that you didn’t get invited to the HUGE party we had when 2 came back from Viet Nam! We asked them to don their uniforms one more time, so we could truly honor them as the heroes they are. Maybe you weren’t so fortunate to see the incredibly kind, loving care my uncle received 60+ years after he mustered out of the Army, having served in the Philippines. The care he received in that U.S. military hospital was absolutely FIRST CLASS! We know, because we went to see him there frequently – even though he didn’t know us anymore. How you have insulted the memory of that brave American soldier who had more courage in his little fingernail than you could ever dream of, based on your babbling today.

        Your inference is that you are somehow a “man of the cloth” – – – I hope that whatever denomination you are part of will help you and offer you the kind of mental/emotional assistance you need to feel better. Until then, maybe someone in the family ought to be your “editor”.

          1. Other great Americans who broke their oath: Trump, Clinton, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Roosevelt, various GOP speakers of the House, etc, etc, etc

  20. No praise from me is enough to respond to your Memorial Day tribute, but you have touched my heart and that will suffice. I graduated from Lane Tech in June of 1950. The Korean “conflict” started two days later and I joined the navy the following day. I went where they sent me, to a heavy cruiser out of Norfolk, so I never saw combat in my four year hitch. But this teen-ager’s eyes were opened to what I owed my country. God’s blessings to those who gave all so that those like me could reap the benefits of freedom many times over.

  21. Lest we forget- freedom isn’t free – and all our freedoms were won at the point of a gun, by the bravest generation of true heroes. Where can we find them now???

  22. Today, I carried the Stars and Stripes at the head of the Wauconda, Illinois Memorial Day Parade. As we marched forward, I saw the people on either side of the street rise. Some placed their hands over their hearts. Others applauded. I knew they were not applauding our American Legion Color Guard. They were applauding our National Symbol, the United States of America Flag. At one point, we stopped for the playing of the National Anthem. A group of young Sailors from Great Lakes Naval Training Center were marching right behind us. I could see some of the people singing the National Anthem were moved to tears by that moment.
    I remembered my two Great Grand Uncles who were Killed In Action, one at the Battle of Shiloh in the Spring of 1862, and another who was KIA near the frozen Snake River in Montana in January, 1877.fs⅕

  23. Excellent column. John! Three of my mom’s brothers fought in Europe. One never came home, Navy sailor Anthony Bellino. His image was hung in our house for as long as my mom was alive. This column hits close to home. The three sons of Italian immigrants Philomena and Tomaso Bellino, Daniel, Rocco and Anthony Bellino, were always heroes to me. God bless you, John. Hope you’re improving every day 🇺🇸✝️🙏

  24. John, we hunger for your poignant writings (among others), and this is a welcomed new one. The vast majority of us have never tasted combat (thankfully!), so the lowlifes out there criticizing Memorial Day can blather on with impunity. After all, the mainstream just ignores the continuing struggle to protect our freedom, and does all it can to try to actually destroy it. Keep up your sorely needed input, and let’s see if our country of the people, by the people and for the people can survive the lunacy of the left.

  25. My father, Joseph, served in the Polish Army on September 1, 1939 at age 24. By September 18, 1939 he had become an involuntary “guest” of the Nazi German government, an “honor” that lasted until May, 1945.

    He was unable to return to his homeland as it was now Communist so he spent four years in Germany as a Displaced Person (“DP”) surviving by painting rebuilt churches and buildings, and later emigrating to the United States at the invitation of a first cousin in Chicago who served as his sponsor.

    My Dad never spoke of wartime experiences or his time as a POW and DP but, I knew that it affected him, as it did many veterans, by the nightmares he experienced periodically throughout his lifetime.

    On August 31, 1969, we were in a hotel in Warsaw overlooking Victory Square and Poland’s Tomb of the Unknown Soldier (many years later on June 2, 1979 in this same square Pope John Paul II would say Mass and give his famous “Let Your Spirit Descend And Renew…The Face of This Land” homily, which some attribute as the start of the end of Communist rule in Poland). The initial ceremony to commemorate the 30th anniversary of the start of WW II in Europe was being held there that evening.

    When the Polish National Anthem began to be played, my father immediately stood up and motioned me to stand as well. We both stood there at the open window until the last notes were played. I then looked at my Dad and saw tears on his face. Although he had been a naturalized US citizen for several years by then and the hymn was played by the Polish People’s Army Band, he never forgot his homeland or his friends who died defending her. I will never forget that night with my Father.

    Blessed be those who suffered and died for our freedom. Let us never forget their sacrifices.

  26. Let’s remember the women who served courageously as pilots, office personnel, nurses and others who “held down the fort.” Both my father and mother were in WWII. Mom and her two sisters enlisted to take the place and honor their older brother who had already passed away. Thankfully they all came home or I wouldn’t be here to comment. God bless America 🇺🇸
    Marcia A.

  27. It’s late afternoon on Memorial Day, and I’m just reading this column after spending the day with my fellow Legionnaires and others remembering and honoring those who gave their lives so we could spend this day remembering and honoring. I wonder what they would think of the America they died for.

    Would they like what they see? Or, like me, would they worry that their sacrifices were in vain?

    I’m reminded every Memorial Day of Thomas Jefferson and his immortal line, “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots & tyrants. It is its natural manure.”

    Or Ronald Reagan, who said, “Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn’t pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children’s children what it was once like in the United States where men were free.”

    Are we just a few years (months?) away from losing what these brave men (and women) did for us? Will we someday be reenacting “Red Dawn,” the movie in which the U.S. is invaded by communists and teenagers have to save the country? I hope it doesn’t come to that, because I’m not sure today’s young people have the wherewithal to do that.

    At 72, I’ve seen this country swing left, then right, then left, then right plenty of times. We’ve always come through it because we were united by a common purpose: building a country that is the last best hope that humanity can overcome differences to advance the cause of freedom.

    Can we still say that today? I wonder.

  28. This was one of you best columns from your 2nd career. Few people can tell the story of a generation through the story of one or two of its ordinary members like you did.
    BTW, our family Memorial Day meal is always steak & eggs, for reasons every WWII or Korean War veteran needs no reminder. The last meal of far too many.

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