Honor Their Sacrifice

Memorial Day–the day all Americans honor those who have given their lives in service for their country. Often there are parades, barbecues, ceremonies on the courthouse square, and family outings to commemorate the significance of this day. This particular Memorial Day, after the parade, there was to be a ceremony honoring the town’s veterans. At the conclusion of the ceremony the mayor wanted someone to pay taps.

Now, in a small southern town that meant whoever was first chair in the high school band trumpet section had that honor. But this year, the boy who held first chair had a schedule conflict. So, second chair was asked to play. Second chair in the trumpet section was my son, Brian. This was a special time for him, particularly since he was a year younger than the other guy. This was something that should not have come to him for at least another year, maybe even two.

He had only a couple of days to practice. And yes, he was nervous. He was to stand on the court house square at the flag pole. Following the parade, people were to gather around while the mayor recognized the veterans that were present and made a speech. Then it would be Brian’s time to play. Over and over, what seemed like every waking moment, Brian played taps. To me it seemed simple enough; quite straightforward really. But to a sophomore in high school, it was a major undertaking. After all, the entire town would be there. Well, not really, but in his mind there was going to be a huge crowd and he wanted to do his best. I couldn’t fault  him because that is what I expected of him anyway.

The day was bright and sunny, just right for all that would take place that day. When the time came for Brian to play, he stood a little to the right of the flag pole, closed his eyes, and did what he knew to do. And it was flawless! Quiet settled over the crowd. Some of the older men wiped tears from their eyes, remembering a time far in the past when those they had fought with did not get to come home. Family members of those same men hung their heads in silent recognition of their absence. As the last note floated away, carried off on a gentle spring breeze, a sigh rippled through the crowd. No one moved; no one wanted to forget. Children who did not understand what had just happened were quiet; they knew it was a special time. And it was.

There was another day, years later, when Brian stood to the side of those gathered to commemorate the passing of their friend and comrade. This time it was not on the court house square, not even in the United States. This time Brian was with the 3rd ID in Iraq and they were holding services for those who had died the day before. Apparently, he was the only bugler in that part of Iraq. After the services, the battalion commander said, “Son, this time was different. You knew him, didn’t you?” Brian said, “Yes, Sir. He was my friend.”

Brian had gone on to take a degree in music performance out of high school, so the level of expertise was greater. But it was not Brian’s expertise with the trumpet that made the difference in the two events. This time Brian knew; this time the men who had died were men he had fought with; men he had talked with, ate with; had shared life with.  All the emotion that flooded his heart poured from his trumpet. He honored their sacrifice.

Memorial Day is about a month away. Maybe you haven’t fought alongside men in combat, but you definitely are reaping the benefits of those who have. Think about what you have and how your life would be if men down through the years had not been willing to fight so you could live. Take the time to honor their sacrifice. Remember.

Grams