While many Arkansans and Americans will be celebrating Memorial Day as part of the summer's first long weekend, I'll be focusing on the true meaning of the day--a day of remembrance for those who died in military service for our country.
I'm reminded of the quote by Herbert Hoover--"Old men declare war. But it is the youth that must fight and die."--particularly when I read about the saber-rattling currently taking place in the Mideast involving the U.S. and its allies and Iran and its allies.
Like the long-running conflicts in Vietnam and Iraq, a potential war with Iran would neither be easy nor quick. Instead, it could go on for years like the quagmires in Vietnam and Iraq and our current involvement in Afghanistan. And past and present political figures like Lyndon Johnson, Dick Cheney and John Bolton, made prominent with their "hawk" stances toward recent wars and potential conflicts, have never been and never will be anywhere near the front lines when it comes to the actual fighting.
My family has a long history with young men participating in conflicts involving our country. My father's great-uncle, David Miller Thatcher, for whom my father, David Jonathan Thatcher, was named, was mortally wounded in 1863 at the age of 19 while serving in the Confederate Army.
He enlisted at the age of 17 on April 19, 1861, a week after the Civil War began. My great-great-grandfather, a widower with seven children ranging from 2 to 17, was saddled up and ready to leave with the Confederate Army when his oldest son David rode up on his horse and begged the authorities to take him instead.
For the next two years, David Miller Thatcher served as an advanced scout for the First Virginia Calvary. During that period, he distinguished himself; he had four horses shot out from under him without incurring a scratch.
Then on Oct. 19, 1863, he was mortally wounded, one of an estimated 50 Confederate lives lost during The Battle of Buckland Races in Buckland Mills near Warrenton, Va.
At the age of 19, my father enlisted in the U.S. Army Air Corps on Dec. 3, 1940, prior to the U.S. involvement in World War II. After Japan bombed Pearl Harbor in a surprise attack on Dec. 7, 1941, my father volunteered for a secret and dangerous mission.
The mission, which would later become known as the Doolittle Raid, would result in the bombing of Japan on April 18, 1942, in retaliation for Pearl Harbor. It would also be the first U.S. victory of WWII, resulting in a huge morale boost for the country, and it would ultimately help change the course of the war.
My father would later participate in the European Theater in North Africa from late 1942 until 1944, flying 26 bombing missions, including submarine patrols and the first bombing raid on Rome, before contracting hepatitis as the result of unsanitary field conditions and returning to the U.S. to complete his service requirement. He would live to the ripe old age of 94, unlike many of his contemporaries who served in WWII.
My older brother, Gary David Thatcher, was not so lucky. Despite opposing the Vietnam War, he enlisted in the U.S. Army on Oct. 23, 1968, at the age of 19 to complete his service commitment so he could get on with his life.
After going through basic training and later flight school, he became a Warrant Officer and co-pilot of a Huey Medevac helicopter. Since he was morally opposed to killing anyone, he reasoned that if he was going to be in Vietnam, he wanted to do something of benefit instead while he was there.
In early December 1969, he was sent to Vietnam. A mere 55 days later, on Feb. 6, 1970, at the age of 20, just 19 days shy of his 21st birthday, he and his three other crewmates were killed in a helicopter crash while trying to evacuate a fellow soldier.
The crash was later determined to be caused by engine failure.
Three generations of my family distinguished themselves in three different conflicts that spanned years and great distances. So, when Memorial Day rolls around each year, I remember and honor these men. And I often wonder about the contradictions posed by wars.
Why is it always the young who are forced to fight the conflicts created by the old? And why do some of those young men survive to old age, like my father, while others die young, like my great-grand-uncle and my brother?
And what sets ordinary men apart from others? How do they rise from being ordinary men to extraordinary warriors when faced with situations that force them to respond above and beyond the call of normal human duty?
What I do know is that young men--and women--serve honorably in their duty to our country. And on this Memorial Day I will remember my great-grand-uncle, my father, my brother and the many other service men and women who have served and continue to serve our country.
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Jeff Thatcher is a professional communicator and longtime resident of Little Rock.
Editorial on 05/27/2019