Independence Day

I recently visited the site of some of the fiercest fighting of World War II. Remnants of fighting were all around. Tanks and guns still dot the landscape. Memorials to fallen soldiers and civilians stand in their memory. Bunkers, air raid shelters, and pillboxes can still be seen as a reminder that history really happened somewhere besides a textbook and movie reel.

As I traveled from place to place, I tried to imagine the terrain of sixty-two years ago, as waves of young men in the "bright morning of their lives" gave what Abraham Lincoln had eighty years earlier called "their last full measure of devotion." They stormed ahead into the fierce conflict to fight an enemy they had never seen, hoping to kill if only to avoid being killed. They knew they must defeat a foe whose desire was world domination, in contrast to their own desire of world freedom from tyranny.

They knew each breath could be their last. They knew the next whistling bullet could be theirs. Men from the streets of New York City and Chicago to the farms of Kansas and Oklahoma joined together in common cause for the sake of freedom. It is doubtful that anyone of them wanted to die, but they were willing todie because of the evident danger of standing aside and doing nothing. When their country called, they answered. When the bell rang, they sprang to action.

I can only imagine the fear of those days, loading into a landing craft knowing that the door will soon drop and you will have to exit the craft into an onslaught of machine gun fire. If you made it to the beach, you would have to fight inch by inch against an enemy well-prepared, who was dug in and waiting. You never knew what might spring out from behind the rock in front of you, or jump up from the tall grass in which you were walking. You knew some of the men beside you had seen their last sunrise, and if you survived, if might be your responsibility to carry the bodies of your fallen compatriots.

It is hard now to see the bodies, strewn across the landscape, bloody and lifeless. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but a picture will never do justice to the things these men faced. The Greatest Generation it has been called. More than 400,000 never saw their homes again. They left behind wives and children, mother and fathers, brothers and sisters, all because they were willing to fight for something bigger than themselves, even if they did not want to.

So on this Independence Day, thank a veteran for being there then so that we could be here now. Thank a soldier for following in the footsteps of the Greatest Generation, who followed in the footsteps of those before them.

Remember that the freedoms we enjoy to disagree, to have political fights, and to speak our minds did not come cheaply. The blood of soldiers marks the spots were freedom was won.