Posted by
ClearCommentary.com on Monday, May 28, 2007 11:18:08 AM
Powerful images and concepts such as 'sacrifice' and 'hero' have a kind
of cultural half-life, and, as such, we should expect them to become
degraded through casual over-usage, not through intentional abuse but
because our understanding and appraisal of them inevitably changes with
the passage of time.
Therefore, it's a useful exercise to cast a deeper
retrospective eye to recalibrate those notions to ensure that those who
have made the ultimate sacrifice are given our deepest respect and
appreciation.
One of the most poignant and evocative works
concerning war and sacrifice was a short poem written by Lieutenant
Colonel John McCrae, M.D., of the Canadian Army, in 1915, during the
three battles at Ypres, in Flanders, one of the most savage of the war.
McCrae, a surgeon, worked for seventeen straight days
on soldiers from a number of countries, all of whom were disfigured and
dying from their wounds; he wrote:
I wish I could embody on paper some of
the varied sensations of that seventeen days... Seventeen days of
Hades! At the end of the first day if anyone had told us we had to
spend seventeen days there, we would have folded our hands and said it
could not have been done.
One
death particularly affected McCrae. A young friend and former student,
Lieut. Alexis Helmer of Ottawa, had been killed by a shell burst on 2
May 1915. Lieutenant Helmer was buried later that day in the little
cemetery outside McCrae's dressing station, and McCrae had performed
the funeral ceremony in the absence of the chaplain.
The next
day, sitting on the back of an ambulance parked near the dressing
station beside the Canal de l'Yser, just a few hundred yards north of
Ypres, McCrae vented his anguish by composing a poem.
In the nearby cemetery, McCrae could see the wild
poppies that sprang up in the ditches in that part of Europe, and he
spent twenty minutes of precious rest time scribbling fifteen lines of
verse in a notebook.
In Flanders Fields
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Note the sense of entreaty that the unfinished
business of war be carried to term by the living lest those who have
perished "shall not sleep." The timeless relevance of that line echoes
in the minds of those who understand the nature of commitment and honor.
Next, we turn to one of the briefest but most
compelling speeches in American history, Lincoln's Gettysburg Address.
Critics have endlessly analyzed it, arguing that Lincoln probably read Pericles' Funeral Oration
because of the structural similarities. But regardless, it's an
enduring tribute, not only to those who died in a war whose
consequences reverberated further than they could ever know, but as a
lasting endorsement of America's unique experiment in
self-determination predicated on universal liberty.
Fourscore
and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new
nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all
men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing
whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can
long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have
come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for
those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is
altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot
consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and
dead who struggled here have consecrated it far above our poor power to
add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we
say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the
living rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they
who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to
be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us--that from
these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which
they gave the last full measure of devotion--that we here highly
resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation
under God shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the
people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.
We can only imagine the tens of thousands of lives that
were lost during our nation's wars--lives that were youthful, strong,
and hopeful--cut brutally short, never to know the many joys and
pleasures we so often take for granted.
May God bless the legions who gave their lives and
who now rest in cemeteries here and abroad, all so that we--and
millions the world over--might live in freedom.