Thanks Guys

On the beginning of this Memorial Day Weekend I was privileged to share lunch with two guys who made sure we Americans have something to remember. I'm the volunteer chaplain at a small assisted living facility. As such, I'm given the opportunity to share lunch with the guys who live there at least once a month. Since there are more ladies than gents at the home, it is nice for us to talk guy stuff--cars, hunting, fishing, work, and today--The war experiences of two of the more articulate fellows.

Mr. M. will be 94 in a short time. In his mid twenties Mr. M. was one of the older guys who flew in B24s over the Pacific. I have flown over and landed on some of the Islands from which the Army Air Corps operated. It is incredible how much water and how little land there is out there. Without all of the sophisticated geo-positioning, and communications stuff that we have today, crews who were just a short time before, teachers and bakers and mill-workers--Mr. M.--flew those planes over hundreds of miles of ocean and landed them on pinpoints of land. While they were at it they helped us win the War of the Pacific. Mr. M. was the flight engineer. It was his job to keep that plane flying so he and the other nine crewmen could make it back to their dot of land in the blue.

He did it over fifty times.

I don't know if Mr. M. flew over Chuuk (Truk), Palau, Guam or Yap. I know people from all those places, and have been to three of them. My friend Sam told me about standing in the primitive bomb shelter where his family would hide when Mr. M's comrades unloaded over Yap. Most of the men on Sam's Island had been conscripted as slave labor and taken to other islands to build airstrips and fortifications. Children, like Sam, women, and the aged were left behind.

I stood in one of those fortifications on Babeldaob, Palau's largest island. My friend Hyob, a pastor on Palau told me that his dad had helped build that fortification. He was forced to do so by the Japanese. I saw the bullet holes, small on the outside but blasted huge on the inside, where US sailors had raked it with machine guns. A massive reinforced concrete roof had protected the occupants of that fort from the likes of Mr. M.

On Guam, a territory of the USA, folk celebrate not only the Fourth of July, but the twenty-first as well. On July 21, 1944 the Island was liberated from Japan. I get the idea that it is a sentiment that is shared in the rest of the region.

With all of the criticism of our nation, some clearly justified, it is valuable to remember that our nation has gotten a great many things right. Mr. M. & Mr T. and another guy whose mom I tried to see today, risked, and are risking their lives to preserve what is good about the our land, and to give others an opportunity to have a better life, as well.

I'll continue my thoughts tomorrow, but for now, on this Memorial Day Weekend, this is Something to Think About.

It's STTA.

Part 2:

I told you yesterday about the opportunity I had to share lunch with a couple of military veterans at the beginning of this Memorial Day weekend. I told you about Mr. M. The younger of the two is Mr. T. He served our country in the Army in Korea. I had trouble following his story--my fault, I'm sure--but I heard about waiting and uncertaincy on board a transport vessel and an amphibious landing. I've never waited on a ship wondering what the future--the very neat future--would hold. Nor have I hunkered down in a pitching boat waiting for the ramp to fall revealing I don't know what, but knowing almost for sure that it wouldn't be good. Another veteran of the Korean War told me about the cold--bone-chilling, toe-freezing, unrelenting cold. Part of my friend's task was caring for dead comrades. The fact that he has ten toes today, might well be due to his "borrowing" some socks from a guy who didn't need them any more. I take putting on socks for granted. My greatest concern has to do with colors that match. How does one decide between freezing feet and honoring the dead? Early in the Korean War GI.s faced overwhelming opposition. Later they dealt with under-whelming support. I don't know what Mr. T did, but he did it. I'm glad, on this Memorial Day Weekend that I remembered to thank him. On the same weekend I was enjoying lunch with these distinguished Americans a friend of mine is on his way to Iraq, and his family is dealing with having a son "in harm's way." I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but it seems to me that our world is a better place because of the cumulative efforts of the Mr. M.s and T.s who did the job before them. The jury of history is still out on our current involvements, and I certainly don't like much of what is happening in the Middle-east. I know, though, that my friend, who is on his way to the desert, loves his country and wants to share the blessings that he, we, enjoy. It seems to me that he is part of the line in which Mr. M. and T. marched. Another friend in that line, who served in Afghanistan, allowed me to use a momento he brought back from that land as an illustration for a message. He brought back a ballot of the first Presidential election held in that nation. It is a token of the greater freedom that his efforts and those of his comrades brought to those people. I know that problems abound in that nation, but my friend is proud enough about giving Afghans the opportunity to choose that he brought that memento back as a gift to his daughter. On this holiday weekend I'm remembering to thank those who are currently serving, as well as those from the past. It's STTA.