A Place for Peace: Contextualizing Memorial Day

Memorial Day is observed on the last Monday of May. It was formerly known as Decoration Day and commemorates all men and women who have died in military service for the United States. Many people visit cemeteries and memorials on Memorial Day and it is traditionally seen as the start of the summer season.

(timeanddate.com)

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.

by John McCrae, May 1915

Here is the story of how the red field poppy came to be known as an internationally recognized symbol of Remembrance. 

From its association with poppies flowering in the spring of 1915 on the battlefields of Belgium, France and Gallipoli this vivid red flower has become synonymous with great loss of life in war.

Yet the scope of the poppy and its connection with the memory of those who have died in war has been expanded to help the living too. It was the inspiration and dedication of two women who promoted this same “Memorial Flower” as the means by which funds could be raised to support those in need of help, most especially servicemen and civilians suffering from physical and mental hardship as a result of war. (http://www.greatwar.co.uk/article/remembrance-poppy.htm)

photo of a poppy at Merry Mount 2017

photo of poppies at Merry Mount 2017

During the final three years of his life, my Dad was in residence at the Ben Atcheley Veteran's Home in Knoxville, Tennessee.  As one walks the halls of this care facility, one is made aware at every door of the service these men and women rendered to the Unites States.  The residents display with pride their allegiance to their country.

I will spend this Memorial Day at Merry Mount, a place of peace and quiet, but if I had been in Knoxville, I would have taken a flag and a bouquet of flowers to Dad's grave and to the Woliver family plots marked by the Woliver headstone.

As I salute our fallen veterans this weekend, as a pacifist, I challenge the notion of nationalism and/or patriotism.  I am not naive.  I recognize that the peace I experience at Merry Mount is to a certain extent due to the sacrifice of human lives defending the freedoms and principles outlined in our nation’s constitution.  But if one seriously considers the history of war, one will find that men and women have often been led by government officials into military skirmishes without due cause.  Sacrifice is defined as "an act of giving up something valued for the sake of something else regarded as more important or worthy".  I, therefore, ask, “What is the price of war?”  Is my peace worth the price of even one American casualty? The answer to these questions is a personal one that each of us should contemplate with all seriousness. Let’s examine the numbers and consider what each war accomplished.

Wars ranked by American combat deaths-Wikipedia

Rank	War	Years	Deaths
1	World War II	1941–45	291,557
2	American Civil War	1861–65	212,938
3	World War I	1917–18	53,402
4	Vietnam War	1955–75	47,424
5	Korean War	1950–53	33,746
6	American Revolutionary War	1775–83	8,000
7	Iraq War/Afghanistan Wars	2001–2014	5,650 [91]
8	War of 1812	1812–15	2,260
9	Mexican–American War	1846–48	1,733
10	Second Seminole War	1835–1842	1,500+

Like most enlistees labeled the “Greatest Generation,” Dad volunteered to join the Navy at age 17 and join his brothers in WWII. His decision was a personal choice. Most Americans would say that our involvement in WII halted the aggressive Japanese and defeated the Nazis whose atrocities were some of the most heinous against mankind.  The cause perhaps equaled the sacrifice.

The Vietnam War accomplished nothing and was misled.  The Korean War was a stalemate, another blunder. The United States launched the Iraqi War under false pretenses, deposed a dictator, but unleashed various religious zealots and jihadists. Lives continue to be lost.

World War I is ranked amount the deadliest wars in human history with the total lose of military and civilian casualties estimated at more than 38 million. At the end, no country won, all was lost, and yet, within less than twenty years, Hitler climbed to power due to societies reluctance to speak out.

In conclusion, I offer a great poem by Wilfred Owen, Dulce et Decorum est.

Wilfred Edward Salter Owen, MC (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) was an English poet and soldier, one of the leading poets of the First World War. Owen was killed in action on 4 November 1918 during the crossing of the Sambre–Oise Canal, exactly one week (almost to the hour) before the signing of the Armistice which ended the war, and was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant the day after his death. His mother received the telegram informing her of his death on Armistice Day, as the church bells were ringing out in celebration.^{[8]-Wikipedia}

 

Wilfred Owen's grave stone

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, 

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, 

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, 

And towards our distant rest began to trudge. 

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, 

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; 

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots 

Of gas-shells dropping softly behind. 

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling 

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time, 

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling 

And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—

Dim through the misty panes and thick green light, 

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. 

In all my dreams before my helpless sight, 

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. 

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace 

Behind the wagon that we flung him in, 

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, 

His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin; 

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood 

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, 

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud 

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,— 

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest 

To children ardent for some desperate glory, 

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.*

*Latin phrase is from Roman poet Horace: “It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country”

As we honor the fallen today, let us not forget that each of us has a right and responsibility to stand up for or against the call to arms.

CPW

Pictures from a Life: Charles L. Woliver (5/21/27-5/9/17)

Today, May 21, 2017, would have been Dad's 90th birthday.  This post is in homage to him and is a pictorial look through those ninety years.

Obituary:

Charles L. Woliver, age 89, of South Knoxville, Tennessee passed away on May 9, 2017. Charles was a U.S. Navy veteran, serving during WWII.  He was a member of Valley Grove Baptist Church.  Charles worked for the L&N (CSX) railroad for 43 years as a locomotive engineer.  He was also a member of the Sevier Co Masonic Lodge F&AM.

Preceded in death by his parents: Ernest and Leona Woliver; brothers: E.L., Hoyt, and Hubert; son Kim Woliver, daughter-in-law Patricia (Trish) and grandson Alex. Survived by his wife of 65 years, Dorsey Lou; sons, Charles Patrick (Loretta); and Adam (Dalene); grandchildren: Simon (Kris), Caroline, Eric (Kristy), Natalie, and Trey.  Great-grand daughters: Joy and Eva; niece Sharon Woliver. The Woliver family would like to thank the staff of Ben Atchley State Veteran’s Home for taking care of Charles for the last three years.

Dad (far left) seated by brother E. L and Hoyt (far right)

Dad pictured with his three brothers (from left to right)
Hubert (Chub); E.L.; Hoyt; and Dad

Dad as a teenager walking with confidence.

Dad at 16

Dad joined the Navy at age 17 (1944)

Dad and Mother while dating circa 1950

Dad and Mother on their wedding day (August 31, 1951)

Dad holding their first born (me) in 1953

My best man in 1976

Dad was an Locomotive Engineer for 43 years

Dad with his beloved wife Dorsey Lou

Dad on his 79th birthday surrounded by his sons (from left to right)
Kim, Pat, and Adam and his grandson Trey (far left)

Grandad with Simon and Caroline

Dad in his favorite chair in 2007

Dad and I in 2016

Eulogy written by my brother Adam:

Charles Lindbergh Woliver was the 3^rd of 4 sons born to Ernest and Leona Woliver.  Charles was born May 21, 1927….the day Charles Lindbergh made his historic flight from America to Europe.  Charles grew up in South Knoxville. He lived near the Tennessee River (right across the River from Neyland Stadium).  World War II broke out while my dad was in high school.  His 2 older brothers volunteered to join the armed forces so my dad begged his parents to sign to let him join as well (at the age of 17). Dad joined the Navy and was sent to the Pacific on a repair ship. Dad never talked much about the war. I regard him as being brave to volunteer at such a young age to go fight for his country and he always stated that he wanted to “look after his older brothers.” After he served in the Navy he came back and passed the GED since he never finished high school.  Even though my Dad never finished high school nor went to college, he was one of the smartest men I knew.  He got a job after the navy working on the railroad as a locomotive engineer.  He did not think of this as a job….He loved every moment driving a train.  He worked for the railroad for over 40 years.  I remember my dad working strange hours and working almost every day of the week.  He always told me that there was a sign above the door to the train station that said “Every day is Monday”.  He instilled in me and my 2 brothers a strong work ethic.  He always told me as I left the house either going to school or going to my summer job…”do the best job you can today”…..I remember one summer I was working at a hardware distributor picking orders….I had worked a 12 hour shift and the manager wanted me to come in early the next day to get a start on the heavy orders we had received….I told my dad that I thought about calling in sick that next day to rest…..He looked me in the eye and said, "you are getting out of  bed and going to work and I will wake you up myself to make sure you do”.  My dad always told all 3 of his sons to look people in the eye and always tell the truth.  My dad also loved his wife.  He always would tell mom that he loved her….He would hold her hand when out in public…..he also would go out on Christmas and birthdays and would personally buy her something special.  He always made her feel special.  My dad would go and help less fortunate people…..but he always did it in a low key, anonymous way that would not bring attention to himself.  He had nicknames for his sons:  my oldest brother Patrick was nicknamed “Corbin”… a city in KY from whence he had to take the train on most occasions; my middle brother Kim had the nickname “stud”…I don’t even want to know about the origin of that nickname (smile); then my nickname was “Jack”…..I don’t know where he came up with that name, but I knew he was in a good mood when he would call  me “Jack”.  Dad loved Valley Grove….I remember one Sunday we were sitting in the balcony and while the preacher was having the closing prayer I stepped out into the aisle to get a head-start on running outside to see my friends. Just as the preacher said “amen”, dad’s hand grabbed me by the collar and he said “if I ever catch you not closing your eyes and praying, you’re going to get the belt”.  From then on I made sure to pray when the preacher was praying.  Dad had a dry sense of humor and would make little funny sayings or jokes to make me laugh.  I look back at my up-bringing and consider myself lucky that God gave me two loving parents that taught me about God and how to live a Christian life.  My dad was not perfect, but he was a man I admired and try to emulate today.