The invitation was unusual.
My friend, Mike Cross, invited Joe Andrews, and me to join him at the Veterans Memorial Garden on the grounds of Trinity United Methodist Church in Henrico County, Virginia.
This quiet gathering was to take place on Monday, May 30, 2022—Memorial Day.
All Joe and I had to do was to show up. Mike provided three chairs and three cold beers.
Mike and Joe know something about Memorial Day.
During the Vietnam War, Mike served in the Marines and Joe in the Army. Both made the long journey to Vietnam. Luckily, Mike and Joe survived and returned home to their families.
That wasn’t the case for the 58,220 Americans who did not return home. Consider this perspective. Harrisonburg, Virginia has a population of 52,062. In the Vietnam war, we lost the equivalent of a Virginia city.
On this warm, but pretty May afternoon, I had the privilege of enjoying a beer with two of the finest men I’ve ever known. Under the watchful eye of a graceful American flag and the shade of quiet dogwood trees, I sat and listened.
There wasn’t a lot of chatter about the details of their assignments in Vietnam. I’ve learned enough over the years to respect a Veteran’s right to remain silent about what he might be carrying deep inside his heart.
But just a few feet away from us, sits a bronze plaque with the names George W. Jinkins III, John N. Ranson, and James Oscar Olzer, Jr. In 1974, this garden was established in memory of these three young men from Trinity. They lost their lives in the service to our country in the Vietnam War.
By November 2006, this garden was restored and rededicated as the Veterans Memorial Garden. Among the improvements were new plantings, retaining wall, gravel path, bench, flag pole with lighting, and the marker. Mike Cross and Joe Andrews were instrumental in this transformation.
All parents expect to outlive their children. I can’t imagine the apprehension that the parents of the Jinkins, Ranson, and Olzer families felt while their sons were doing their duty. I know these parents must have been crushed when they received official notification of their losses.
In Pat Conroy’s book, My Losing Season, he writes about Captain Joseph Eubank from Concord, North Carolina. When Pat Conroy played basketball for The Citadel, Captain Eubank was one of the team managers. His nickname was “Rat.”
Captain Eubank was a combat helicopter pilot in Vietnam. In his Huey helicopter, Captain Eubank lost his life coming to the aid of an Army unit that was surrounded by the enemy. Captain Eubank entered into this ferocious firefight three times. It was his third assault that his helicopter was shot down and Captain Eubank was killed.
With great embarrassment, Pat Conroy states: “Not a single member of my basketball team attended his funeral, and we can barely forgive ourselves for that indefensible fact.”
Pat Conroy’s teammate, Doug Bridges, encouraged Mr. Conroy to include Captain Eubank’s story in his book, stating, “your book will not mean anything unless you tell them about Rat. More than any of us, Rat turned out to be the real Citadel man.”
In visiting the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C., Mr. Conroy carries with him a list of names. When he finds the names on the wall, he takes his fingers and traces them over the names of his fallen friends. Captain Joe Eubanks is Mr. Conroy’s last stop. At this stop, Mr. Conroy breaks down and weeps uncontrollably. (My Losing Season, Conroy, pages 301-302)
Those tears of gut wrenching loss drop all across America on our families.
This past week, at the Historic Woodland Cemetery in Henrico County, I spent a couple days with Trinity member, Ken Hart, furiously running weed eaters around tombstones and grave markers. At these gravesides, African-American families honored their loved ones with inscriptions listing rank, branch of service, and wars served: WWI, WWII, Korea, and Vietnam.
Thousands of miles and years away from the turmoil of Vietnam, I sit under the shade of dogwood trees, with two Veterans whose loved ones shed tears of joy upon their safe return to America.
I’m not a Veteran, but, like Pat Conroy’s fallen friend, Captain Joe Eubank, Mike and Joe mean the world to me.
Their decorum, honesty, perseverance, humble courage, and selfless sacrifice have shaped many hearts.
I’m truly thankful that their fortitude has touched my heart too.
For America on this Memorial Day, I wonder how many of our challenges might be solved by rededicating ourselves to decorum, honesty, perseverance, humble courage, and selfless sacrifice?
Every moment of silence and tear shed on this Memorial Day is grounded in those attributes.
And, we can’t afford to forget them.
Author’s note: Dear readers, if this post offends you because three beers were consumed on the grounds of a church, I apologize. My hope is the post might make us think more deeply about the families who lost loved ones to the horrors of war, and for us to contemplate the decorum, honesty, perseverance, courage, and sacrifice found in those losses. Finally, if this piece touches your heart, I humbly ask that you consider sharing it. Love, Bill
might be baloney 