In “A gathering of eagles” Michelle Malkin writes about the group, Gathering of Eagles, who are going to protect the Vietnam Memorial from the March 17th march on the Memorial by antiwar and impeach-Bush groups. The idea of anti-war groups being anywhere near the Vietnam War Memorial makes me sick. Two of my brothers fought in the Vietnam War, in the Marine Corps, and the Memorial Wall is hallowed ground to my family and to countless other families in this country. In my opinion, for it to be used as the start of such a march by people like those in ANSWER and other anti-war groups is obscene.
Below is a speech I wrote several years ago as though it was to be given on Memorial Day at the Vietnam Memorial Wall. I wrote it as a birthday present for my brother Brian, whose birthday is May 29th, and for whom we always do something related to Memorial Day to honor him and to thank him for fighting for our country. I also mean it to honor my brother Craig, who was killed in an accident after he returned from Vietnam.
Memorial Day Speech by Minta Marie Morze
Written in Honor of my brothers Brian and Craig.
Both served as United States Marines in the Vietnam War, 1967-1969.
[To be given at the Vietnam War Memorial Wall, or at a veteran’s cemetery.]
We come in silence to this place.
Memorials exist to touch our souls --
And any dialogue that may occur at first
Begins at levels far too deep for sound.
At first we cannot speak.
But we are made of stardust and of sound --
And it is we who give expression to the world.
It is our nature to speak out.
And so although at first we feel too strongly yet for speech,
Our silence finds whatever outward voice it can
In impassioned statements by the hand and jaw and eyes:
The trembling hand that traces out a name that’s carved in stone --
A soft caress that seems to find
Both pain and solace in the chiseled form;
The jaw hard-clenched against the surge
Of fierce emotions barely held in check --
Beneath the mantle of the mind a domed volcano seethes;
The sudden flame of tears that burns and blurs the eyes
And forces the embattled stare within
To meditate yet once again on mysteries of the soul.
This is Memorial Day --
And as we gather here
It is a solemn and a precious enterprise
We undertake today.
I wish to emphasize this point:
This is an enterprise --
It is a thing of moment, and of risk,
Because we much prefer to bear a private grief --
Yet we have come together in a public place.
There is no privacy here.
We here must face the risk that all will see
How deeply some of us are scarred.
We here must speak of things
That give us pause --
Our hesitation comes because some words
When spoken here
Tremble in the air.
We here must speak of heroes, loyalty, and love,
Of valor, fear -- and, yes, of death.
--Oh, we speak of these quite often,
Out there, beyond the fences and the streets,
We use these words and others in a normal,
Mundane way.
But not here.
Here, these words have meanings
That demand of us
A true attention to their call.
Glance around you.
There are heroes here.
Real heroes.
Although they shrug or glance away --
Or grin and lightly laugh.
The truth is, they are heroes.
They think that there is much more majesty
In those whose names
Are carved in stone.
They were the ones who died.
They were the ones who paid --
In Lincoln’s words --
“The last full measure of devotion.”
We honor them, and celebrate their lives.
But those of you who fought and lived,
Who stand about us now, abashed --
Perhaps a little angry at my seeming
Not to understand
That you are still alive,
And your comrades here are dead,
And that must make the difference
That I’m just too blind to see . . . .
Well -- I told you there were risks involved,
In coming here . . . .
I know you’d rather hide,
Or laugh it off.
But here --
In this precious place
Wherein we come to honor those who died --
You must allow us a moment to recognize
The heroes here who lived.
You heroes walk among us unheralded throughout the year,
Usually unknown, except on days like this.
You must allow us the privilege of honoring you.
You must allow your loved ones the silent pride
Of knowing you are theirs.
You must allow your friends the chance
To love you all the more.
There were some moments in your life
When barriers of Time and Space
Dissolved.
When you were One with all the Giants of the past
Who heard the call to arms
And went.
You reached out into the future,
Grasped it,
And remodeled it with valor and with love.
You were strong when strength was needed most.
Let us recognize you for what you are,
And thank you for the chance you gave us all
To become everything that we may wish to be.
The courage was yours.
The acknowledgment of it must be ours.
Thank you.
And having now embarrassed you
With a moment’s recognition of your worth,
I wish to yet embarrass you once more,
Because it is all too true
That we gather here to honor those who died.
In allowing us to look on you
As true heroes in our lives,
You give us yet another gift.
You give full bodied presence of just what heroes are --
Not superhuman creatures that come upon us with the sound of trumpets,
But rather flesh and blood --
Men and women of minds and hearts and souls.
Right now, this moment, here
We must remember that
Every single one of the names engraved upon remembrance plaques
Was just as real as you are now.
You, standing here in all your force of life --
In the very strong physical reality of your presence --
Give us one of the most precious lessons of them all:
You give full presence to those who cannot stand with us:
They once were just as real as you.
They stood as tall, each name upon the scroll;
They breathed the air as deeply as you do;
Their blood steamed hot within their veins,
Their minds sought meaning,
Their bodies thrilled and ached --
Their loves and griefs were just as real as yours.
Those among us who never had to find our way
In the fog and fear of war,
Who never wore our country’s uniform,
Who never had to personally answer
That supreme call to duty --
We want -- and need -- to honor those who died
That we might freely live.
We need to look at you,
Our living heroes,
Standing here in the full warm flush of existence,
Filled out in flesh and form,
And so remember those who died
For what they were --
Strong and brave and filled with life.
To look at you . . .
To think of them . . .
Must fill us with awe and wonder
At the magnitude of what you did.
There is a hungry need in us to thank you for what you did,
To bless you all, to celebrate your lives.
But there is no way to find the words to fully express
That which we owe you,
How much we value your sacrifice.
There are some thoughts too unspeakably precious to say aloud --
Such gratitude as this we feel is of that sacred realm.
I have said all that I can give voice to here and now.
The rest is silence.
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