As a boy growing up in Maine, I was surrounded by veterans of WWII and Korea. They gave heft to the community, particularly in a shipyard town that was a living, breathing embodiment of America’s history and its wars. I can quite understand Bruce Catton’s description of growing up in rural Michigan in the early 20th century, surrounded by veterans of the Civil War. In Mr. Lincoln’s Army (part of the Army of the Potomac trilogy that also includes Glory Road and A Stillness at Appomatox), Catton writes:
As a small boy I had known a number of these men in their old age; they were grave, dignified, and thoughtful, with long white beards and a general air of being pillars of the community. . . . They gave a tone and a color to the lives of the people who knew them, and they put a special meaning on such a word as “patriotism”; it was not something you talked about very much, just a living force that you instinctively responded to.
For those of us who are attuned to such things, there is a sense that we present-day Americans are surrounded by giants. These are the men and women who have given – and who currently give – their service that the nation might enjoy liberty’s blessings. We are indeed surrounded by these people, both the living and the dead, and we owe them more than we can ever repay.
This sense of communion between past and present was uniquely captured by a poster from 1943, depicting the soldiers of that era passing in review before the ragged, starving ghosts of the Revolution who proudly receive the “eyes right” in salute.
I plan to honor our veterans in future postings, beginning with members of my own family who have served and given their lives. But for now, it is enough to pause for a moment in humble recognition and appreciation on this Veterans Day 2008, to give thanks to all who have served and continue to serve and for those who, like the ghostly soldiers of the Revolution, surround us still.
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