Memorial

Day

Memorial, Day…

My father, a WWII POW in the Pacific Theater, was a ‘mountain of a man’, as described by my eldest at my only sibling and sister’s funeral a year ago last April. He was a staunch advocate of the MIA/POW effort. The description of ‘mountain of a man’, was earned not because he was famous, or rich, or financially successful. It was because he was a gentle pacifist, whose main goal in life was to help other people, often by just making them laugh embracing his theory ‘if you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit’. He lead by a cheerful example seen by me only in him, though I do try and emulate him by bringing laughter and hopefully some joy to everyone I encounter as I run daily errands and especially my beloved wife.

He never talked about the war or his experiences except in his interview with Lt. Colonel Carol Eric or ‘Shane’. She recorded him for eighteen hours as part of her research studying for her Ph.D. specializing in why some POWs survived while others did not. Mary, who transcribed the interview into a book mention a few paragraphs below (Faithful: Because of of Love a True Story of the Defenders of Bataan) had this to say. Our sole purpose in publishing the book was for people of today to hear his voice’.

Today, I think again about what he and his fellow soldiers survived (or did not) at the hands of the Japanese. Four in Ten did not come back from the Pacific Theater’s defense of Bataan and ensuing prison camps versus the European Theater where nine out of ten POWs survived.

The soldier’s of Bataan had a famous saying, “No Papa, no Momma, no Uncle Sam” as they were abandoned by the US Government after months of lies about ‘help’ coming’

In the book Faithful: Because of Love a True Story of the Defenders of Bataan, he notes something in that interview recorded in May-October 1981 that stands out.

He said, “I don’t think there was ever an assembly of women and men of such size and dedication to eradicating evil as there was during WWII. And I do not think there will ever be again.” Though I hold out hope we will find common cause, his eerily accurate predictions of a great nation falling into anarchy seem to be increasingly the case.

He also talked about China and Russia and their true intent, expand and conquer. Clearly still true forty-four years after he said it.

Pop, or Big Al, was a man of deeply rooted faith. It began with his mother, Kati, a devout Irish Catholic and her ancestors, continued through his experience as a POW, or a ‘guest of the Emperor’ as he put it, for three and a half years in the Philippines and Japan. He participated in the Death March, the horrors of Camp O’Donnel where four hundred US soldiers succumbed to disease and starvation daily. He was on the ‘hell ships’ and survived diphtheria (through a miracle) and suffered the consequences of Beri Beri for the rest of his life. He was twenty-five miles from Hiroshima when the bomb went off in a prison camp called Roshu Roki.

He married a devout Irish Catholic woman of equally or greater deeply rooted faith, Patti. For fifty-two years they set an example like no other until he made the Great Leap on October 31, 1999. Over one thousand people from across the United States and Germany attended his funeral on three days’ notice. He never was famous or held public office or made more than forty thousand dollar a year.

In the Sermon given by my Godfather, a diocesan priest and my mother’s only living relative, Fr. Robert Shields, or Fr. Bob, finished with, “Al was my best friend. I never met a man more like Jesus.”

Every year he would come up with a slogan for the new year. The one that stuck with me was ‘tolerance.’

He lived by two rules. Love God and love everyone created in His Image in Likeness.

We’ve had to move three times in the last two years. I know, buried deep inside a packed garage, is our flag. Currently disabled, searching for it by moving stacks of bins and containers is not an option. So, at 9:00 AM, I headed to Ace Hardware and got a new flag to put up. It now flutters gently in the breeze.

Clement

From Wikipedia… Official recognition as a holiday spread among the states, beginning with New York in 1873.^[8] By 1890, every Union state had adopted it. The world wars turned it into a day of remembrance for all members of the U.S. military who fought and died in service. In 1968, Congress changed its observance to the last Monday in May, and in 1971 standardized its name as "Memorial Day.” Two other days celebrate those who have served or are serving in the U.S. military: Armed Forces Day, which is earlier in May, an unofficial U.S. holiday for honoring those currently serving in the armed forces, and Veterans Day on November 11, which honors all those who have served in the United States Armed Forces