EDITORIALS

A quiet holiday

What could be better?

— THEY’RE gone now. So say those who say they know. But can anybody be completely sure? Somewhere there might be an Italian living in a nursing home who saw combat in The Great War. Somewhere in Romania an old woman in a babushka may still live who brought water to some forgotten front.

The official line is that Florence Green (née Patterson, of the London Pattersons) was the last person alive who served in her country’s military during The Great War. The one in Europe. It’s now known as the First World War. There is a touching naivete in that title, The Great War, as if there wouldn’t be a greater one. As there was in time.

When she was serving in an officer’s mess in the Women’s Royal Air Force in 1918, Florence Green wouldn’t have called it the first world anything. It was The Great War or, some foolish times, The War To End All Wars.

Florence Green died in February of this year at the age of 110. She almost made it to 111. The papers covered her death because she was supposedly the last World War I vet.

She, with millions of others, celebrated the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month 94 years ago today. And we still celebrate it. But instead of calling it Armistice Day, we call it Veterans Day.

And today is Veterans Day.

Not that you might know it until tomorrow.

Tomorrow your bank might be closed. It might have a sign out front explaining why. Your trash might not be picked up until Tuesday. All “in observance” of Veterans Day. For many, Monday will just be a day off. As for today, you’d have to really be looking to find observances.

Today the NFL will still play its games. The churches will still be open. The hunters will still bag their deer. It’s a November Sunday in Arkansas, isn’t it?

You might see the occasional ceremony here and there, if you’re really looking for one. But you’ll probably have to go by the courthouse at noon to catch it. The mayor might give a speech. He’ll remind listeners that Veterans Day is a day to remember everybody who served, not just those who died in combat. (That’s for Memorial Day, and the mayor’s invited to that ceremony, too.)

When the Army Song plays, formerly the Caisson Song, a few scattered old boys will stand and salute. Then they’ll sit down again and watch others stand and salute when the words and music are about the wild blue yonder, anchors aweigh, and something about the shores of Tripoli.

But today isn’t Christmas big. It’s not Thanksgiving big. It’s not even Valentine’s Day big.

It’s just Veterans Day.

WE’D BET that most veterans don’t mind not much of a fuss being made over them on the 11th of November every year. We can’t recall one letter to the editor from a veteran complaining that he or she hadn’t been given enough recognition on Veterans Day. They did their jobs-the jobs the country asked them to do-and didn’t ask for any fuss about it.

If they stayed in long enough, they got a pension. If they were wounded in battle, they wanted care. But they didn’t ask for any fuss, aka showboating. To this day grunts make fun of any brass who commit it. And being a show boater is not a rep you want to get in the barracks. Just do your job, lieutenant, and maybe the general will give you a nice certificate one day. And, more important, you might eventually get out of this man’s Army.

Veterans know how important they’ve been to the country. They don’t need to be told.

But it wouldn’t hurt today. If you see an ol’ boy dressed in his class A’s, give him a snappy salute. He may know he deserves it, but it’d be nice if he knew the rest of us did, too.

Editorial, Pages 82 on 11/11/2012

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