We're the battling bastards of Bataan,
No mama, no papa, no Uncle Sam,
No aunts, no uncles, no nephews, no nieces,
No pills, no planes, no artillery pieces,
And nobody gives a damn.
Arkansas Democrat-Gazette
Maybe singing caustic cadences is a way to keep the troops' spirits up. In our experience, the dirtier, the more the grunts like them, and the better for morale. No matter what the officers think. Then there are the cadences like the ones sung by the battling bastards of Bataan. Songs of death and parachutes not opening and "one by one we start to die, so early in the morning." They can be haunting on an early morning march on a safe American fort or base. Imagine singing them during a fighting retreat.
That's what the Battle of Bataan was. For three months, Filipino and American troops held off the Japanese. Three months. With no hope of reinforcement, relief or even supplies. The American Navy was at the bottom of Pearl Harbor. We couldn't get our boys out. After the American surrender on April 9, 1942, the Bataan Death March started. An untold number of books have documented the number of Japanese war crimes that would happen in the next few weeks. Today we recognize not just those who died in the Philippines during the Second World Catastrophe, but in all American conflicts.
AFTER great pain comes a three-day weekend. That's what somebody once said. Labor finally, finally was recognized for what it has done for this country. All it took was for millions of people to be forced to work from sunup to almost sunup again for next to nothing--starting work as children. Who could run a business by giving employees eight hours of work, eight hours of sleep, eight hours for what you please? That's no way to run a Triangle Shirtwaist Factory.
But the mere people had other plans. Labor won. And wins today, even if it's not as organized and top-heavy as it used to be. And a three-day weekend follows the great pain.
Thanksgiving gives a lot of us a four-day weekend. But lest we forget, first came the great pain that almost starved those newly arrived on these shores, or almost killed this nation in the crib, or divided it fourscore and seven years after that.
Today, another great pain has given many Americans this Monday off work. It's the American way. Give 'em a happy ending every time.
How American, how all-American, how America. Today we honor those who've given their lives to defend their country, those killed in action or behind where the action was supposed to be. How can we tell where the lines are in the battles we face today? Which was why it was so silly to keep women from "combat" units.
We pause today to remember those who are beyond it all now. They are beyond life. But also beyond the blood and horror and pain. Yes, beyond pain. Thank God. We pause today, thinking of those who have already crossed the river.
Many of us will also pause to listen to the forgetful wind whistling over graves. This will be the first year some fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, will have come to stand at a still-fresh grave on Memorial Day, knowing it will not be their last there, and wondering how they will bear it. They should know that many mourn with them, and pray God grant them the balm of time.
There is nothing we can do for the dead now, but there is much we can do for the living. We can ask where our wounded and convalescent are, and how they are faring. We can see that they and their families are cared for. And when they are stacked in hospitals like so much cordwood, or put out of our sight like something indecent, we can demand more than a few showy dismissals of those who were supposed to have been in charge. As Americans, we can demand decency.
As was written a long time ago, there is a time for war and a time for peace, a time to weep and a time to laugh. Those who died in service to their country wouldn't want the kids to sit through a wake for each of them. They'd want the kids to go to the water park or country lake. And live. Eat, drink and be merry, which was also written a long time ago in a certain Book.
We're reminded of a couple of cousins, little girls, at a promotion ceremony for a high-ranking Army lifer many years ago. They were related to the officer in some way, we remember. They both looked out-of-their-mind bored during the ceremony, in which salutes were traded and flags paraded around. Our thought: You little darlings go ahead and be bored. We were sure the soldier would have had it no other way. Why should little girls be concerned with thoughts of sacrifice and war and duty and loss and death and all the other? Let them be children. They'll understand sacrifice and loss soon enough.
Which is why we think that those who died in the service of their country wouldn't want a national day of mourning to scare and upset the children. Go ahead, have a hot dog at the ballgame. And, we can imagine some grunt saying, have a beer for me, too.
Today is supposed to be a time for remembering, but after remembering, can we forget? We cannot recreate or relive the horror that our defenders saw, and we should not. We should go on. And be at peace. As they are. Isn't that what they really fought for? America of a Memorial Day weekend when their kids and grandkids and maybe great-great-great-great-grandkids could run barefoot through the yard chasing a football, puppy or little sister?
In every kid's yell, in every family's retelling of the same old stories, in every exuberance of youth and satisfaction of age, there is a tribute to those who have kept this land one and free, and have kept it secure even unto today, throbbing with life and still open to the pursuit of happiness.
What other country was founded in part to allow its people to pursue happiness? So let's do so.
These young people today just starting life? They are the best memorial.
Editorial on 05/28/2018