Memorial Day, a personal accounting

Three day weekend and barbecues; hoping for good weather so grilling can take place and friends or family can visit.  Sometimes there's a parade, more often not these days.  That's what Memorial Day has become to some.  For many others, it's something more personal.  I'm one of those.

Like many of my colleagues, Memorial Day is a reminder of the work we do every day.  My colleagues and I are in the remembrance business, if you want to get down to it.  If you want to get into the "war and memory" story, there are some excellent books you should read.  

Paul Fussell's The Great War and Modern Memory is a great one to start with but not to be forgotten is also Jay Winters' Remembering War--just to name a few.  

For me, and many of my colleagues, the act of being a historian is the act of being the collective memory for a nation, organization or group of organizations.  For me, personally, it's the act of being the collective memory for families.  I've been accused of saying this too much, but I am a firm believer that if a person is remembered, they continue to live on--never truly gone.  So, I've made a career of collecting stories and memories in order to be able to bring them back to life for the family, for the nation, for the organization, but more for that person themself.

So, when Memorial Day rolls around, I take stock in the stories, bring to light those I can, and bring them back to the present, even if just for a few minutes.

What about this year? This year it's a little closer to home for me.  Most don't know that I cut my research teeth working in my own family's genealogy when I was in high school.  The research bug hit me hard and still to this day consumes me in my paid-job, and passion.  I've traced my father's side of the family back to 1650, and then started working on the off-shoots--the women who married into the family.  What's their history? It's this work that yielded two names that I must commemorate this Memorial Day.  I haven't dug far enough into their stories, so there's not a ton to go on, but here's my tribute.

Private George Pickard of Auburn, NY, born 1817.  Pvt Pickard is my 3xgreat grandfather.  Pvt Pickard married Jane and went on to have nine children with her.  She was pregnant with their son Paul when he enlisted, in the US Army on 20 August 1862, with Company F, 111th New York Infantry that formed from men from Cayuga and Wayne Counties in Upstate New York.  The regiment met its fate at Gettysburg that hot July of 1863.

It was said of the regiment, "Col. Fox, in his account of the three hundred fighting regiments, speaking of the 111th, says: "On June 25, 1863, the brigade joined the 2nd corps which was then marching by on its way to Gettysburg. The regiment left two companies on guard at Accotink bridge; with the remaining eight companies, numbering 390 men, it was engaged at Gettysburg on the second day of the battle, in the brilliant and successful charge of Willard's brigade, losing 58 killed, 177 wounded, and 14 missing; total, 249."  Pvt Pickard was one of the 177 wounded at Gettysburg on the second day, just one year after enlisting.

Pvt Pickard's wounds were mortal.  He was sent to Fort Schyler in New York where he lingered for 20 days before succumbing to his wounds.  Today, he rests there still. 

In a previous war, there was another relative of mine.  Private Jacobus Amerman, Jr., of New Jersey, my 4xgreat grand uncle.  Jacobus is a bit of an enigma because this is a name that is popular in the family's early days, making it hard to sort him from his relatives.  What is known is that on 16 August 1775, five companies from Somerset, NJ were created and Jacobus was under the command of Captain Peter D. Vroom in the 2nd Battalion.  The men of NJ were engaged at the Battle of Germantown in October 1777, and Jacobus met his fate there on the 4th.

Since 1775, more than 1.2 million have given their life for this land.  That's a staggering number, but what is more staggering is how many were left behind grieving for those who were sacrificed on the alter of freedom.  What about those who didn't die in battle but were wearing the uniform? So many more lives lost, and shattered by the loss.  

Memorial Day is far more than picnics, grills, and sunshine.  However, by all means, do attend these events because we live in a great land; paid for in blood by so many.  But, take a moment to pay your respects, even if silently to yourself.  Honor them, even for just the slightest of moments.  They earned that much.

Remember them; remember their sacrifice.

Armed Forces Day 2021

For the last ten years of my time with the Marine Corps, I was responsible for drafting messages from the Commandant to the entire Corps (ALMARS=All Marine messages) on topics of a historical nature.  Such topics as wishing units happy birthdays, veterans day and Armed Forces Day.  They were short, and I couldn't get too creative, which was a bummer.  This year, since I'm not drafting it for the CMC, I'm going to write my own because TODAY is Armed Forces Day 2021.

What is Armed Forces Day? "Armed Forces Day is a special holiday for people all over the world to come together and thank the men and women of the United States Armed Forces. First conceived by President Harry S. Truman, the holiday was established in 1949. The creation of a single day celebration for all five branches of the United States military made sense due to its recent unification under the Department of Defense."

Don't confuse it with Veterans Day or Memorial Day, which have similar, but not the same meaning.  Truman's intent was to have ONE day to honor all the various services, each service still honors their own day of creation, but this day is for we citizens to pay tribute to the various services.

While I work for DoD, I am not a hawk; nor am I a dove.  I believe we need to have a well-equipped and well-trained military, for defense and for humanitarian reasons.  Sometimes the military is the only one that can get to the scene rapidly enough to quell the situation—be it man-made or nature-made.  Our nation’s military has been vilified and glorified, and everything in between since the day it was created.  There are some bad apples, but the good ones far outshine the bad, in my book.

 

Our military has often been the first experience other nations have with the US.  In places like Bangladesh, our military are heroes for the herculean efforts that were performed during some of the worst natural disasters.  The residents of that nation love our military. Operations Sea Angel I and II are the reason.  Other nations have mixed feelings about our military, places like Haiti.  Haiti saw our military in some its darkest hours; in the early 20th century, the relationship wasn't the greatest.  However, in the 1990s and early 2000s, it was our military that helped the Haitians though natural disaster and political turmoil.

The members of our military are human beings, and being human they aren't perfect.  But in a pinch, I'd rather find myself with American Marines, Soldiers, Sailors or Airmen coming to my aid than any other service in the world.  Why? Because I've had the honor and privilege to know so many of them and I know in the hearts of the ones I've met, they are honorable, courageous, loving, and fierce.   I choose to disregard those who do not uphold those values.

 

Today I don't interact a great deal with the active duty military, but let me tell you about one who I know pretty well (although in many ways he remains an enigma to me), my brother, "Dave" (as he likes to be called) who is currently serving member of the US Army.

This is how I remember him.  A smart kid, who loved to get into trouble and who (I swear) loved to get me spun up for the fun of it.  He's seen his share of crap while in the service, from shit tours to sandy/hot places, to the Army jerking him around.  He's done things I would never do, helped people who didn't speak the same language and didn't trust Americans.  

My brother has seen war, and what it does to people.  He's come home with the "badge of military merit" and lost comrades in arms.  To me, he is one of the reasons I will always advocate for our military.  I know that if I were in trouble, be it a bar fight I started, or any other situation where I needed someone to have my back, he'd be right there.  I also know that he loves fiercely--his family, friends and other loved ones.  He is honorable to the core of his being, and has served our nation through our longest wars.  This has left its mark on him.  

He can make me laugh like nobody, and I've shed some tears with him as well.  I always love spending time with him and want nothing more than for his health and happiness.

Of course, this is what I want for all our active duty service men and women.  I want them to feel proud of their service, feel loved by those they care about, and feel honored by our nation for their many sacrifices on our behalf.   Is that too much to ask for their decision to give their life, if it must come to that, for us all? They signed the dotted line for many reasons, sometimes it was for money to pay for an education,  sometimes it was to get away from where they were, sometimes the simple act of wanting to do something larger than themselves.  Whatever the motivation, they knew that it might come time for them to give the last full measure of devotion, and for that I honor the men and women like my brother who currently serve.

While Armed Forces Day is set aside to honor current serving, I would be remiss if I didn't include those who have served with the same courage, honor, commitment, devotion, and hardships.  Today I am going to spend the day with one of the best I've ever known.  He's 98, a veteran of three wars, and has recently lost his wife of many, many decades.  I am humbled by his friendship; I am filled up by the knowledge he has given me freely over the past 25 years and my heart breaks for him as he goes into this final chapter of his life.

 

So folks, on this Armed Forces Day, hug someone you know that has the uniform on (don't randomly hug someone, that might not turn out well), and let them know you have THEIR back should they need it.  To my brother ("SSG Badass"), thank you for your service, thank you for your friendship,  thank you for all that you are to our family and please know you are loved, respected and valued.  I couldn't have picked a better brother.

 

  

Ever look on Heaven's scenes...

Another Marine reported for duty recently.  

This Marine wasn't one that I didn't know before, rather, my great uncle Bill (William N. Hoag) who I fondly remember from my childhood.

His memorial service was Saturday (8 May) and there was never any question about me making the trek north to make sure I was able to pay my last respects and tell him that his duty was done here, the rest of us would take the watch.  I got in around 0130 on Saturday morning, got a few hours sleep before starting the day.  

 The day was wet and dreary.  It was fitting for the mood of most in the funeral home.  The service was short and later we all crossed the street to gather at the church.  This is where the true service began, because the rain stopped, the sun peaked out, laughter filled the air and everyone ate too much.  It was just as Uncle Bill would have wanted.

Someone, I couldn't remember her name, asked me "What did you whisper to him at the funeral home?"  I didn't realize that I'd been spotted kneeling at the casket.  I smiled and said, "Only something a Marine would understand."  

Uncle Bill enlisted in the Corps on 16 September 1958 and was assigned to Platoon 199, 1st Recruit Training Battalion at Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island. 

Because of the timing of his service, my super secret (not so secret) method of following his service through the muster rolls simply cannot be done.  However, I can tell you that he served at Cherry Point and Quantico, and spent nearly every free moment on the road home to NY where he was head over heels for a gal that happened to be my grandfather's youngest sister, and his future wife.  

Uncle Bill's life wasn't all about the Corps.  Like so many before him, and so many after him, he did his four years and  was discharged.  He returned home to Upstate New York, where he raised his family.  He drove truck, farmed, was a mechanic and a good father.  His youngest son was my age, so we often spent summers at Uncle Bill's and Aunt Bobbie's.  I remember him as a man with a warm heart, an easy smile and a laugh just waiting to bust forth.  

Unlike many of the Marines I've known or studied over the years, Uncle Bill didn't come home with a chest full of medals, didn't earn distinction in combat, nor did he remind you every waking moment that he was a Marine.  He simply did his duty, returned to home and made a good life for his family.  In my book, that's just as noble as all the ribbons and medals put together.  

I was one of the last to leave the church Saturday; knowing I had to be on the road back home the next morning, there was little time to do anything except get some rest.  But on the way home, the sun was nearly down, but it was a beautiful sky.  I stopped on on a back road that offered an outstanding view across the open fields and valley, and snapped a few images with my phone.  Maybe Uncle Bill painted this particular sunset for his family as a thank you for their love and tributes that day.  

"If the Army and the Navy
Ever look on Heaven's scenes,
They will find the streets are guarded
By United States Marines."

Rest in peace, Uncle Bill.