75 Years Later
They met in the July hot sun. It was dusty, but the campgrounds were better than before; there was clean water, and plenty of food. It was 1938, and the remaining veterans of the battle at Gettysburg, both Blue and Gray, gathered one more time. It was seventy-five years later, and time to say goodbye. Of the 160,000 Americans who had fought there, only 1,845 remained.
President Franklin Roosevelt spoke, dedicating a new monument on the battlefield, right at the place where Confederate General Rodes deployed artillery when he arrived from the North on the afternoon of July 1st. Roosevelt’s speech, praised the courage of both sides, and congratulated the old men who were camping together, North and South. The Peace Monument was dedicated, overlooking the entire field, recognizing the hope for peace with an eternal light.
The old veterans spent three days there, just as they had seventy-five years before. Those in Gray reenacted that last attack, Pickett’s Charge into the Union lines on Cemetery Ridge. Old, faint, echoes of the famed Rebel Yell came from the fields. But this time, as they climbed the low hill up to the Ridge, instead of blasts of rifle and cannon fire, old veterans in Blue came out to shake their hands, and offer an arm to the top. It was the end of the last reunion, the last living memories of the blood and carnage of the worst battle fought on American soil.
Three years later, America was in a whole new war, one that had battles almost as brutal. As the last Civil War veterans passed on, an entire new generation of battle hardened Americans was created. This time it wasn’t the hills of Pennsylvania, but a world scene; from the beaches and jungles of the Pacific, to the sands of North Africa, and the mountains of Italy.
And 75 years now again, those veterans returned to the most famous battle of World War II; the beaches of Normandy, scene of the D-Day invasion. The Allies, led by American forces, landed on the beach and parachuted behind the enemy lines, 156,000 strong, almost the identical number to that of both sides at Gettysburg. Yesterday the few remaining old veterans, most in their nineties, came to walk that beach, and view the cliffs, and remember the struggle, one more time.
There were speeches from world leaders, marveling at their sacrifice, even the German Chancellor, Angela Merckel, was invited to participate. And while there were no German hands to offer an arm up the slopes, these veterans returned not out of hate, but out of respect. Respect for the comrades they lost on the beaches; and respect for the innocence so many of them, only eighteen or nineteen years old, lost on those first days in June of 1944.
It’s been 75 years since the D-Day invasion, the beginning of the final chapter of war against nationalism and hatred. It would be another eleven months until the war was over, but once the Allies gained that foothold on the beach, the result was inevitable.
As those old veterans, ones like my parents, fade off into memory, it is concerning that what they fought for fades away as well. We now live in a time where nationalism, hatred and bigotry are available in our pockets. We need only pull out our phones or computers to be exposed to the multiple new versions of what those old veterans had hoped to eradicate on earth, seventy-five years ago.
We need to remember the lessons of Gettysburg, and D-Day, and all of the other bloody battles we fought for our nation. As we gather our daily dose of hatred and lies, we need to turn away, and nurture the flame of peace. The Civil War was fought to make a divided nation, one; World War II was fought to make a world divided a safer place for all.
But we are in a world today where division is rife. And it’s not only the President, he is but a result of the success of division. It’s not only the Russians, our enemies with a will to make us hate. It is our choice. We have abandoned civility, respect, and acceptance for a philosophy that states “I am right, that makes you wrong.” It needs to change.
Before the Civil War, Abolitionist John Brown led a “raid” with the hope of starting a slave revolt. Some of his men were killed, and Brown himself was caught, tried, and sentenced to death. Before his execution, he wrote a final statement. In part he said: “I am now certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood.” We too should heed his warning.
The eternal light on the Peace Monument didn’t go out during World War II. It’s still lit today, a beacon on the hill Northwest of Gettysburg, just past the railroad cut on the edge of the woods. But our constant access to the flames of lies and hate; Republican and Democrat, black and white, men, women and children: that hate threatens to make the results of sacrifice fade. If that happens, as it did three years after they met at Gettysburg, we will be doomed once again to offer up blood to put out the all those consuming flames.