The Willow Glen Resident

Point of View

Carl Heintze

History's about to repeat itself

I remember vaguely from when I was a child the last gathering of the Grand Army of the Republic, the veterans of the Civil War.

A handful of old men tottered to a central meeting place for a picture--their last--and then were carted off to wherever they had come from to die. It seemed like a resurrection of ancient history. The Civil War, after all, had been fought near the middle of the 19th century, a long time ago for a child in the 1920s or 1930s.

Thus, it came as something of a shock to me, a veteran of World War II, to realize that history is about to repeat itself. Those who were in World War II are now in their 70s and 80s--if they are still alive--and it won't be long now until the century turns over.

It also won't be long until the last surviving veterans of World War II totter to some central meeting place to have their picture taken for posterity and then go to their fate--the fate of all of us, of course, whether we are veterans or not.

Thinking about this--not exactly a happy thought--made me think of World War II--the good war, as some have called it--and what honor was or is due to those who fought for their country.

First of all, it's necessary to qualify how many among the millions who served in the conflict actually fought. About one in seven, by someone's reckoning, were actually in harm's way on the front lines.

The rest, a majority, were somewhere behind them, rendering such valuable service as pumping gas, baking bread or even, as the old joke went, repairing mess kits. The joke identified the 123rd Subterranean Mess Kit Repair Squad (an outfit that never existed) as this kind of service to one's country.

So there weren't that many who actually shed their blood for their country. I have to admit I did shed a little--a very little--if that's a badge of qualification--and it is to get a Purple Heart Medal.

Mostly I was terrified, dirty, tired, bored, sleepy, sarcastic and hungry. I never felt I was sacrificing much until long after it was over, when I suddenly realized I had missed three years or so of my young adulthood, three years I would never be able to recapture.

This was balanced by the realization, with a strange mixture of wonder and revulsion, that I had experienced three years unlike any I would ever know again. War is like that, I think. It exalts and debases men (and women) and perhaps that's why humans find it so fascinating.

At the same time, although it was The Good War (partly because we won and partly because we did manage to change the course of history, mostly for the best), when it was over I came to believe in the end that there are no good wars and that wars don't build character that isn't already there, don't settle very much in the long run and probably ought not to be celebrated much.

So I am not sure whether we ought to honor the veterans of World War II or not. Most of them did what they had to because they could see no other alternative. Some few did what they had to do with nobility. A lot did what they had to do grudgingly. All they really wanted to do was get it over with and get home.

Some few took delight in war because it gave them a license and a lack of responsibility they would not have otherwise enjoyed. They were, as the title of a World War II novel says, "war lovers." They liked killing people they couldn't see very well or at all and whom they didn't know.

I know we don't like to admit there were these kinds of veterans, but there were.

I don't think they should be honored at all.

For the rest, the vast majority, many of whom already have passed on, those who like me were caught up in the crusade, as Dwight David Eisenhower called it, I'm not so sure that honor is as important as recognition.

We did what we had to do, or if not what we had to do, what we thought we had to do, to the best of our ability. We were, if not a band of brothers (and sisters), at the least a generation for which there has been no equal since the Grand Army of the Republic.

In some odd way it's nice to know that, even at this late date.

So I think the nation should recognize those who served, no matter how they served, while they are still alive to appreciate it. And we also ought to honor those who served and died. They may never be aware that we remember they gave their lives for our sake, but somehow it seems the right thing to do.

At the same time I'm sure they would hope, as do most living veterans of World War II that wars were not be a part of the human experience.

War is, as General Sherman said, hell.

[ Back to Contents Page | Willow Glen Resident Home Page | Archives ]