Tribute to the War Dead

Tribute to the War Dead. Recollections of a Class of 41, world war two Veteran. , At an early age I accompanied my parents on Decoration Day, a term used from the Civil War, to decorate graves. When in the sixth grade I assembled with band members on downtown Main Street, behind Legionnaires, for the march to the cemetery then called Armistice Day.

The ceremony provided a time and setting for publicly paying tribute to those lost but not forgotten. Soldiers aging with the passing years unfolded old uniforms and strained seams that once hung loose on trim bodies. Duty out weighted self-consciousness as they lined up for the march to the cemetery. School kids in the accompanying band observed their initial awkward ranks and ill-fitting variety of uniforms. The humor of the scene was kept within in respect to the dignity revealed in the faces of those middle-aged men. They were briefly reliving another time with comrades not present, but remembered and accounted for. A neighbor, a dignified businessman, was the only man in an aviator's uniform. My Uncle Ray squeezed in his sailor uniform while most others were dressed in their infantry uniforms.

I was amazed to see frail Jack Bond put on a flag-holding harness and hoist the big flag. Jack, a highly respected Legionnaire, had been found alive among the dead. He was equipped with a plate in his chest and though frail, he recovered. I was concerned how he could possibly hold that flag in the wind. His body motion revealed determination and tenacity and managed to hold the flag in place all the way to the cemetery. Someone in command called attention and these middle-aged men abruptly took on the vigor of their youth. Upon the command “Forward March,” they stepped out in a military stride. We in the band had difficulty keeping up. I couldn’t help but focus on Jack and his determination to hold the flag in place.

On arrival, the Legionnaires lined up in a preplanned formation and began the ceremony leading to all rifles being fired in salute. To those of us standing nearby, it was almost felt and made real by the smell of spent powder. The sounds of the volleys awakened our senses to a voice reading the list of the war dead. The list always began with the name Abernathy.

The proceedings changed with slight modifications until after world war two when the name was changed to Memorial Day.