Memorial Day, The Misunderstood Holiday

Submitted by Charlton Stanley (Otteray Scribe), Guest Blogger

Easter Dogwood
View from Tim’s grave at the National Cemetery
Photo by Charlton Stanley (his father)

Friday I was reading another blog, and was stunned and appalled to read this opening line in a post (emphasis mine):

“For most of us, Memorial Day is a joyous occasion. We may think of idyllic, lazy summer days of childhood, whole months away from school. Our greatest concern might well be the inevitable traffic jams created when large groups of people head for the same destination at the same time.”

Many, including the person who wrote the statement above, mistake Veteran’s Day for Memorial Day. The day does not celebrate the veteran. It is a day of remembrance for those who never had a chance to become a veteran. Veteran’s Day is November 11, formerly called Armistice Day.

Memorial Day was originally known as Decoration Day. The exact origin of the custom of decorating the graves of those who gave all in service to the country is shrouded by the mists of time and folklore. Memorial Day became official when General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, issued his General Order No. 11 on 5 May 1868. The first official Memorial Day observance was 30 May 1868. On that day, flowers were placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery.  Every year until 1971, Memorial Day was observed on May 30. In 1971, the National Holiday Act of 1971 was passed, making Memorial Day part of a three-day weekend.  When Memorial Day became just another long weekend with a day off from work, it began to lose its meaning as a day of remembrance and reflection. The VFW’s official proclamation in 2002 stated in part,

“Changing the date merely to create three-day weekends has undermined the very meaning of the day. No doubt, this has contributed greatly to the general public’s nonchalant observance of Memorial Day.”

In 1999, Senator Dan Inouye introduced a bill to restore the traditional day of observance of Memorial Day back to May 30 instead of “the last Monday in May”. The same year, Representative Gibbons introduced a bill in the house saying the same thing. Both bills were referred to Committee. Every year until his death, Senator Inouye re-introduced the bill. If anyone had the credentials to speak for veterans everywhere, it was Senator Inouye; one of the few members of Congress awarded the Medal of Honor. I hope that one day, Memorial Day will return to the original May 30. Every year that passes, a bit more of the real meaning of the day is lost.

IGTNTLogoRevised-1-2We owe it to the dead to honor their memory. It does not matter the war, the cause, or the politics.  For every one of those marble slabs in the Gardens of Stone, some parent or loved one got that terrible, awful knock on the door.  When I was young, it seemed as if every other house had a gold star in the front window. Those memories are still fresh, even after all those decades. A series has been running on the Daily Kos blog called IGTNT (I Got The News Today). The series honors and remembers those Americans who lost their lives in combat or military operations in the war zone. Their names and pictures are there. Read them and weep for the loved ones left only with memories.

Flowers_of_the_forest_skene_manuscript
Flowres of the Forrest
From the Skene Manuscripts

Shortly after the bloody battle at Flodden Field in 1513, one of the members of Clan Skene composed Flowers of the Forest as a lament for the Scots who perished in that terrible battle. It was probably composed originally for the harp, however; it was quickly adapted for the bagpipes. It was lost for about a century, until it was found in the Skene Manuscripts as “Flowres of the Forrest.” The original pipe tune did not have lyrics. In 1756, Jean Elliot wrote lyrics for the tune.  Piping Flowers of the Forest has become traditional in the UK for military memorial services. The custom has spread to the US, and is often requested. Flowers of the Forest was piped for my son at his service in the National Cemetery. Because of the somber meaning of the lyrics and tune, pipers will not play or practice Flowers of the Forest in public. Public airing of the ancient tune is reserved for remembrance of the dead.

Flowers of the Forest refers to the soldiers. “The flowers of the forest are all wede away,” means they are all withered away, dead. Centuries later, the flowers theme would be reprised when Roy Williamson composed Flower of Scotland, which has become the National Anthem. This is Ronnie Browne singing Jean Elliot’s lyrics on the actual battlefield at Flodden, now peaceful meadowland.

Flowers of the Forest

By Jean Elliot, (1727 – 1805)

I’ve heard them liltin’, at the ewe milkin,’
Lasses a-liltin’ before dawn of day.
Now there’s a moanin’, on ilka green loanin’.
The flowers of the forest are a’ wede away.

As boughts in the mornin’, nae blithe lads are scornin’,
Lasses are lonely and dowie and wae.
Nae daffin’, nae gabbin’, but sighin’ and sobbin’,
Ilk ane lifts her leglin, and hies her away.

At e’en in the gloamin’, nae swankies are roamin’,
‘Mang stacks wi’ the lasses at bogle to play.
But ilk maid sits drearie, lamentin’ her dearie,
The flowers of the forest are a’ wede away.

In har’st at the shearin’ nae youths now are jeerin’
Bandsters are runkled, and lyart, or grey.
At fair or at preachin’, nae wooin’, nae fleecin’,
The flowers of the forest are a’ wede away.

Dool for the order sent our lads to the Border,
the English for ance by guile wan the day.
The flowers of the forest, that fought aye the foremost,
The prime of our land lie cauld in the clay.

We’ll hae nae mair liltin’, at the ewe milkin’,
Women and bairns are dowie and wae.
Sighin’ and moanin’ on ilka green loanin’,
The flowers of the forest are all wede away.

Major Michael Davis O'Donnell
Major Michael O’Donnell

Vietnam had its iconic poems, tunes and laments as well. One of the more famous poems was by a helicopter pilot; Major Michael Davis O’Donnell.  This was written on New Year’s Day, 1970 at Dak To. Major O’Donnell was killed three months later when his helicopter was shot down with twelve souls aboard. His helicopter was hit by ground fire while rescuing troops who had come under heavy fire.

By Major Michael Davis O’Donnell

If you are able, save them a place inside you,
And save one backward glance when you are leaving,
for the places they can no longer go.

Be not ashamed to say you loved them,
though you may, or may not have always.
Take what they have left, and what they have
taught you with their dying, and keep it as your own.

And in that time that when men decide, and feel safe,
to call the war insane, take one moment,
to embrace these gentle heroes you left behind.

There are many poems, essays and songs appropriate for Memorial Day, and for Memorial Day weekend. Some have special meaning for me. Joe Kilna MacKenzie wrote Sgt. MacKenzie in memory of his grandfather, Sgt. Charles Stuart MacKenzie of the Seaforth Highlanders. Joe lost his own battle with cancer in 2009.

About his grandfather, Joe wrote:

“To the best of my knowledge, and taken from reports of the returning soldiers, one of his close friends fell, badly wounded. Charles stood his ground and fought until he was overcome and died from bayonet wounds. On that day, my great grandmother and my grandmother were sitting at the fire when the picture fell from the wall. My great grandmother looked, and said to my grandmother “Oh, my bonnie Charlie’s dead”. Sure enough, a few days passed, and the local policeman brought the news – that Sgt. Charles Stuart MacKenzie had been killed in action. This same picture now hangs above my fireplace. A few years back my wife Christine died of cancer, and in my grief, I looked at his picture to ask what gave him the strength to go on. It was then, in my mind, that I saw him lying on the field and wondered what his final thoughts were. The words and music just appeared into my head. I believe the men and woman like yourself who are prepared to stand their ground for their family – for their friends – and for their country; deserve to be remembered, respected and honoured. “Sgt. MacKenzie”, is my very small tribute to them.”

Sgt. MacKenzie was featured in the soundtrack of the movie, We Were Soldiers. The cover photo in the video is Sergeant MacKenzie.

Eric Bogle wrote several songs about the futility and waste of war, two of the most famous being Green Fields of France, and The Band Played Waltzing Matilda.  Lesser known is My Youngest Son Came Home Today. Eric says Mary Black, as a woman and mother, sings it far better than he ever could. Here is Mary Black with My Youngest Son Came Home Today.

Memorial Day is for remembering and honoring those who died in the service of their country. Please share your own special remembrances, poems or songs.

175 thoughts on “Memorial Day, The Misunderstood Holiday”

  1. Don’t tell me nations cannot exist without war.

    Costa Rica got rid of their military in 1949 and have had no war dead since:

    The constitution has forbidden a standing military since 1949. It does have a public security force, whose role includes law enforcement and internal security. For this reason Costa Rica is the headquarters for the Inter-American Court of Human Rights and also the United Nations’ University for Peace.

    (Wikipedia, “List of Countries without armed forces”).

    Crying and grieving is good and healthy, but far better than that is getting rid of the dynamics that are filling up the graveyards.

    The military manic is psychotically out of control and it is the greatest threat to civilization at this time.

  2. Mike S,

    The video can be found on this thread by searching for this string “Ode to the war trolls from reality”

  3. Mike Spindell 1, May 26, 2013 at 4:57 pm

    Dredd,

    So honestly what is your purpose on this thread? You use a$$holes like the smug Mr. Chomsky and songs by the Fugs to show your political purity?

    ====================================
    Your answer is in the video of the words of the most decorated Marine General in his day, General Smedley Butler.

    You left that out.

    I posted that video because among other things, he coined the phrase 99% in 1933 in a speech in D.C. during “a million soldier march.”

    Does he insult when he quotes Napoleon?

    When he tell the truth about Wartocracy?

    My purpose is also to encourage a stop to worshipping war, which is the primary religion that caused “The Most Dangerous Day In Recorded History” (RE: recently released papers of RFK – Cuban Missile Crisis).

    Combine that with Professor Turley’s “The Fourth Branch of Government” showing that the President has less knowledge than JFK did then, and government officials not knowing what is going on, and one should be able to discern who the sadists and masochists really are.

    Clue: it is not the people who eschew cheering on the warmongers.

  4. Thanks Elaine and Mespo….

    Missed your postings yesterday….

  5. I am a semi-regular reader of this blog and on occasion I do comment on posts. I find it interesting some of the “rancor” (my term and my thought) from OS’s post. It is funny, to me, that we have issues dealing with a sensitive issue such as this. I think part of it is dealing with the issue of death itself and the other issue is dealing with honoring our fallen troops in a very partisan atmosphere. The partisan “you are for us or against us” mentality seems to be rearing its ugly head. War is not pretty and it does affect all of us.

    This maybe myth but the town of Waterloo, NY claims to be the birthplace of Memorial Day. They celebrate it on May 30, just as OS noted that the late Sen. Inoye wished we would go back to. It is my understanding that there are a couple of other towns that claim to be the birth place of Memorial Day (you can look it up on the “Internet”).

    My paternal grandfather served in WW 1 with the King’s Own Scottish Borders (yes he was Scots) but unfortunately I do not know much about his service. My dad served in the US Air Force in the late 50s-early 60s. We had an honor guard with a flag for his memorial service (no Taps) and when they folded the flag I bawled. It really hit me hard. My brother retired from the US Army after 23 1/2 years of service. He had a few close calls but he lost many comrades during his tours in Iraq.

    We really have lost want this day means in honoring our fallen service men ans women. I will be going to a parade later this morning. The local politicaticians will walk the route, smile, and wave to the crowd. The fire trucks will be shiney and loud, the bands playing patriotic tunes and everyone will have a good time. We’ll put our flags out. We’ll go home and have our BBQ’s, socialize and probably forget to really remember why this day is important.

  6. Otteray,

    In 2001, I was one of 50 participants in the first Favorite Poem Project’s Summer Poetry Institute for teachers at Boston University. One of the videos/poems that touched me most was Dulce et Decorum Est.

    Dulce et Decorum Est (Favorite Poem Project)
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JMxeHgBE7ws

    *****

    Many American military men and women have served their country honorably during wartime. My father served in the army during WW II. One of my husband’s uncles served under General Patton. He witnessed the liberation of a death camp.

  7. OS:

    Simply superbly done but I do take one small issue. As I strolled through the cemetery yesterday I certainly felt the sadness of the families but there was some joy,too. Maybe it was the joy that comes from knowing that we are from hearty and compassionate stock fully willing to sacrifice all that we have for sake of our loved ones. It’s the strange joy Londoners felt during the Blitz. A knowledge that you were made from heroes and somehow can be a hero yourself and true to your lineage. Happy Memorial Day!

  8. Inspiration comes from the oddest and least expected of places. Once I found myself reading a technical book on language by Umberto Eco entitled A Theory of Semiotics (1979). On the subject of metaphor, professor Eco wrote that the term “warrior” carries the connotations of “fierceness,” “courage,” “pride,” and “victory,” but can just as easily carry antonymous connotations of “fear,” “sorrow,” “shame,” and “defeat.” Which connotations apply depends mostly upon whether a country views its warriors as “winners” or “losers.”

    At any rate, Professor Eco also said that one could “associate a warrior metaphorically with a “scapegoat” (as a “moriturus” by definition), so that an army of warriors may be defined as ‘the scapegoats of the King’s ambitions.'” Immediately after reading that remarkable phrase, a similar one came to me: “Hostage to the Prince’s crime.” After that, Vietnam came back to me in a rush and did not let go of me until I had finished:

    Soldier’s Soldier

    Scapegoat of the king’s ambition
    Hostage to the prince’s crime
    Sent upon a madman’s errand
    Soldier of another time

    Sworn to do as he is bidden
    Not to think of why he came
    From himself his purpose hidden
    Soldier by another name

    Searching for a mystic evil
    Ever just a war away
    Always beaten, not defeated
    Back to fight another day

    Battles always won, but cheated
    Of the promised victory
    Never lost but just depleted
    Army of our history

    Kill the chicken; scare the monkey
    Centipede is dead, not stiff
    Off to far Cathay he marches
    Soldier diving off a cliff

    War not done but just abated
    Peace the only thing to fear
    Power’s hunger never sated
    Soldier’s orders never clear

    Dragon’s teeth by Cadmus planted
    Sprung from battle’s plain full grown
    Men who kill them all if doubtful
    Heathen gods will know their own

    Burn the village, clear the jungle
    Save them from themselves at least
    Make excuses for the bungle
    Soldier then becomes the beast

    Wounds still fresh and redly bleeding
    Bound up with a filthy rag
    Something shapeless once a husband
    Stuffed into a plastic bag

    Squatting in the dusty swelter
    Widowed woman once a wife
    Never more to know the shelter
    Of a tranquil married life

    Head thrown back in boundless grieving
    Mouth agape with soundless woes
    Tears and snot now glisten, mingling
    Coursing down from eyes and nose

    Anguished face a tangled curtain
    Clotted, matted, raven hair
    Almond eyes with sight uncertain
    Weeping pools of deep despair

    Do not knock this war we’re having
    It’s the only one we’ve got
    Better dead than red we tell them
    Mouthing slogans; talking rot

    Fight them over there they tell us
    Rather that than fight them here
    Just invent some casus bellus
    Danger’s best that’s never near

    Ozymandias’ sneering statue
    Crumbled in the desert bare:
    Look upon my works, you mighty
    See their ruin and take care

    Told to teach and be creative
    Soldier ignorant and young
    Learned instead and then went native
    Speaking now an ancient tongue

    Only they will now receive him
    Who see not his bloodstained hand
    None will hear for he can’t speak it
    Stranger to his own lost land

    Bringing with him what he carried
    Losing only what he bought
    To the cause no longer married
    Soldier doing what he ought

    Shipped away like so much baggage
    Not to choose the things he’s done
    Often bad and sometimes better
    Soldier not the only one

    Now he comes home like the others
    Breathless lips and eyes shut fast
    Lain to sleep beside his brothers
    Soldier’s soldier to the last

    Michael Murry, “The Misfortune Teller,” Copyright 2005

  9. Dedicated to all the Vietnamese (North and South) who lost their lives, limbs, homes, and futures so that Americans could feel good about themselves braying reactionary crusader slogans like, “Better Dead than Red.”

    Better Maimed than Marxist
    (an experiment in so-called “free verse”)

    At our U.S. Navy advanced tactical support base,
    on the banks of a muddy brown river,
    not far from the southernmost tip of South Vietnam,
    I injured my right middle finger
    in a pickup volleyball game one Sunday afternoon.

    Having no X-ray equipment at our little infirmary,
    I had to take a helicopter ride north
    to a larger Army base possessing
    better medical equipment and facilities
    to see if I had broken any bones in my hand.

    Walking down a hospital corridor, I passed
    a room full of Vietnamese patients
    who had no arms or legs.
    I experienced a disorienting sense of scale compression,
    unexpectedly witness to already small lives made minuscule in a moment,

    like seeing living dollar bills cut down to the size of postage stamps,
    or sentient silver quarters suddenly shrunk to copper pennies.

    Michael Murry, “The Misfortune Teller,” Copyright © 2012

  10. Dedicated to the officers and crew of the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln who eagerly and credulously offered up themselves and their ship as pathetic political propaganda backdrops for President George “Deputy Dubya” Bush’s infamous “Top Gun” flight deck dance proclaiming “Mission Accomplished” in Iraq — just as “this crusade, this war on terror” began to horribly unravel. I never felt so ashamed of the U.S. Navy in all my life.

    Anyway:

    Dead Metaphors

    We serve as a symbol to shield those who screw us
    The clueless, crass cretins who crap on our creed
    We perform the foul deeds they can only do through us
    Then lay ourselves down in the dark while we bleed

    Through cheap Sunday slogans they sought to imbue us
    With lust for limp legacy laughably lean
    Yet the Pyrrhic parade only served to undo us
    We die now for duty, not “honor” obscene

    We carried out plans that the lunatics drew us
    Their oil-spotted, fly paper, domino dream
    Then we fought for the leftover bones that they threw us
    While carpetbag contractors cleaned up the cream

    We stood at attention so they could review us
    Like bugs on display in a cage made of glass
    We hurried, then waited, so they could subdue us
    Yet somewhere inside something said: “kiss my ass.”

    We did the George Custer scene Rumsfeld gave to us
    We took ourselves targets to arrows and bows
    While the brass punched their tickets, the Indians slew us
    A “strategy” ranking with History’s lows

    When veterans balked they contrived to pooh-pooh us
    With sneers at our “syndrome” of Vietnam sick
    When that didn’t work they set out to voodoo us
    With sewer boat slanderers paid to be slick

    The wad-shooting gambler comes once more to woo us
    His PR team planning precise photo ops
    For to sell his used war he’ll have need to construe us
    As witless weak wallpaper campaign-ad props

    The nuts and the dolts in their suits really blew us
    They made our life’s meaning a dead metaphor
    Still, no matter how Furies and Fate may pursue us
    The Fig Leaf Contingent has been here before

    The years pass in darkness and graveyards accrue us
    As early returns on investments gone wrong
    So the next time “supporters” of troops ballyhoo us
    Remember to vomit in tune to this song.

    Michael Murry, “The Misfortune Teller,” Copyright © 2005

  11. Another hat-tip to the welcome return of the Vietnam Syndrome on this Memorial Day.

    Syndromes of Wisdom

    “You must not invade Mother Russia,” it’s said
    In the vast, bitter wintertime cold
    Napoleon, though, thought he’d figured a way
    So did Hitler, or so we are told.

    “Do not get bogged down in an Asian land war,”
    So they once taught cadets at West Point
    Not that France or America listened, of course
    Till their noses got wrenched out of joint

    “Do not spit to windward,” the sailors will say
    Or you’ll get the snot back in your face
    Not that landlubbers heed these instructions so wise
    Which accounts for their loss with no trace

    “Do not use a puppet to run your affairs”
    If you don’t know the nature of string
    With two ends, you know, it can pull either way
    As the bad puppet chorus will sing

    As they train the young dogs not to shit where they live
    And the cats not to pee on the rug
    So America ought not to jump in the hole
    That it has only recently dug

    Latrines have their uses, but swimming ain’t one
    Not unless you like stinking and slimed
    So America ought not to dive in the ditch
    Out of which it has only just climbed

    We haven’t yet found our way out of this mess
    Still, before any learning can start
    All the ones who so brazenly lit the last fuse
    Seem to fear that we might lose the art

    They’ve gone back again to the tried and the trite
    Seeking slogans to mask their retreat
    In a panic that soon we won’t do this again
    “Isolationist!” now they repeat

    In the land of the blind rules a king with one eye
    Whose perspective is greatly obscured
    Like the fabulous realm of the learning impaired
    Where the people know only one word

    The sunken investments run deep, far, and wide
    And to give them up now would be bad
    Never mind all those kids with the lost legs and arms
    We must not make the stockholders sad

    The headstones grow grim in the grass ‘round their graves
    As the rows of their ranks slowly fill
    While the numbers and dates tell a story of lives
    Ended short, not for good but for ill

    What remains of their bodies lies buried away
    While their souls through eternity fall
    Leaving only their memories fading in friends
    And their names on a black-granite wall

    They bang the drum slowly; they play the horn sad
    They preach and console and reprise
    Their denials that youth really dies for the old
    While the story the statesmen revise

    Now furious fear flings more sand in the face
    As the trial balloons litter the sky
    Once again it’s a “syndrome” to think of the waste,
    To remember, and understand why

    What kind of a people would coin a cliché
    Using “syndrome” to lie and appease
    All to cover a wish to make wisdom passé
    Just a symptom of one more disease?

    Michael Murry, “The Misfortune Teller,” Copyright © 2005

  12. From Sheldon Wolin’s masterful Democracy, Inc.: Managed Democracy and the Specter of Inverted Totalitarianism

    “As the second Iraq war proved, failure merely stiffens the resolve of [U.S. foreign policy] elites and their defenders.”

    “During the first Gulf War, George I exulted that “by God, we’ve kicked the Vietnam syndrome once and for all.” The syndrome included not only popular resistance to an adventurous foreign policy and mounting criticism of ‘the foreign policy elites,’ but, equally important, widespread experiments in spontaneous ‘teach-ins’ where the pros and cons of foreign policy and military strategies were avidly discussed by ordinary citizens, students, and teachers. One of the reasons why ‘the sixties’ continues to be a favorite punching bag of neocons and neoliberals is that it represented a decade of prolonged popular political education unique in recent American history.”

    And from retired Army Colonel Andrew Bacevich, who wrote in The Limits of Power: the end of American exceptionalism:

    “In effect, the global war on terror has revived the Vietnam-era street wisdom that politicians are either callous or stupid and will sacrifice the lives of young Americans rather than owning up to the consequences of their misjudgments. Whatever the threat posed by Al Qaeda, most parents with teenagers will view the prospect of a draft as posing a greater immediate danger to their children’s well-being.”

    That American parents now view military conscription by their own government as a greater threat than Al Qaeda seems like progress to me. So this Memorial Day, I will remember the hard-won return of the Vietnam Syndrome and the passage of the 26th Amendment giving 18-year-old Americans the vote and thus a voice in their own future, one that millions of young men in my generation never had.

  13. AY, I missed the exchange you were referring to. Found it. LK really did go off. Unusual.

  14. AY, Sorry for misunderstanding. I make so many typos I projected. 🙂

  15. RWL 1, May 27, 2013 at 12:10 am

    Matt J.,

    Don’t go that route. There are too many females on this blog for you to start comparing women being the perpetrators of military rape & women being the victim of military rape. Stop while you are ahead.
    ———————————————————————————————– I’m already ahead.

  16. RWL 1, May 26, 2013 at 11:53 pm

    Matt J said “With regard to your conduct in the military, in the U.S. it’s the Uniform Code Of Military Justice. You’re also subject to civilian law.

    There are those few who are not good, but that exists everywhere.”

    I was referring to the record number of women who have been raped while serving our country, and received no justice from the US Military Courts or US Civilian courts. See following articles on this:
    ——————————————————————-
    Justice is blind. Correct? Maybe you haven’t seen the Supreme Court link I’ve posted here a few times. In my case the perpetrator was female.

    1. Matt J.,

      Don’t go that route. There are too many females on this blog for you to start comparing women being the perpetrators of military rape & women being the victim of military rape. Stop while you are ahead.

  17. FYI. This year while placing flowers on graves, we finally decided to ask why one of my many uncles who is a WW II vet, never has the flag placed on his grave. We found out that the cemetery where he is buried doesn’t recognize the “old style” white granite headstone (like you see at Arlington) but instead use the bronze foot markers to identify vets and place flags. We were also told that we could contact our local funeral home and request the foot markers (as he called them) be placed at no cost since he was a vet.

    You too can do this.

    One of the many “Good” govt programs I support!

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