Too young, too old, medically unfit, shielded by peace, to understand Memorial Day.
Veterans of Bastogne, Khe Sanh and the Anbar Province understand. The rest of us — too young, too old, ineligible for induction, shielded by peace — don’t have a clue. Would we trade places with the men and women who fight and too often pay the ultimate sacrifice? Memorial Day is for them, not us. Or is it?
Perhaps you’ve heard war stories from loved ones. It is not unusual for veterans to minimize the unbelievable for our benefit: “My grandfather never talked about WW II.” “My father was in Vietnam. That’s all I know.” “My husband fought in Iraq but won’t discuss what happened there.”
Compassion uses whatever is at hand to penetrate the unfamiliar. “Band of Brothers,” a 10-part film based on historian Stephen Ambrose’s 1992 non-fiction work of the same name and executed by Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks, is a way inside the unimaginable.
“Band of Brothers” first aired on Sept. 9, 2001, two days before al-Qaida killed nearly 3,000 Americans on a balmy autumnal morning. It is a phenomenal miniseries that elevates the genre to a superior level. Whether you are ignorant of or indifferent to WW II before you watch it, their memories will become yours.
The miniseries chronicles the stunning victories, arduous battles and searing losses of E (Easy) Company, 506th Regiment, 101st Airborne Division. These men (just kids, really) received excellent training in Georgia but never killed a human being before they parachuted behind enemy lines into the mouth of chaos.
On June 6, 1944, Easy Company boarded planes departing England and jumped into the infinite sky, overloaded with equipment and fear. Fortunately they were guided by the astute, compassionate Lt. Richard Winters (1918-2011). On D-Day, they had an initiation of fire at the onset of the Allied invasion of Normandy.
Winters and 12 soldiers (the rest of the company was lost or dead) led a successful attack against a German stronghold of four heavy machine guns that blew US servicemen to bits on the beaches of Normandy. Led by Winters’ unerring instincts, the men achieved a victory that is still taught at military academies as a model of strategy.
Easy Company fought in Operation Market-Garden in Holland, which exacted a huge toll; the siege of Bastogne, France, where they were boxed in by German artillery, hampered by bitter snow and cold, for 12 days (half the company died); fought a major battle at Foy, Belgium; crossed into Germany; walked unprepared into Landsberg Concentration Camp; went to Eagle’s Nest, Hitler’s abandoned lair in Berchtesgaden; supervised the US occupation of post-war Austria.
Throughout “Band of Brothers,” reflections are provided by surviving veterans of Easy Company: Dick Winters, Bill Guarnere, Frank Perconte, Ed Heffron, Amos Taylor, others. As they talk about fresh replacements that “were the first to die” or friends slain on the battlefield, tears that refused to fall publicly for decades gather in their eyes.
Ten hours later, after observing a cadre of actors inhabiting the souls of real military personalities, the bravery of these warriors — whether killed in action, dying a natural death or still in our midst — will overwhelm and haunt you, with horror and wonder.
How did they do it?
“Taking Chance,” which came out in 2009, is based on an essay written by Lt. Col. Michael Strobl of the US Marine Corps. The film follows his emotional journey escorting the body of PFC Chance Phelps, killed in action on April 9, 2004 in Iraq, to his final resting place in a small town in Montana.
Compared to the gritty, shocking realism of “Band of Brothers,” violence in “Taking Chance” is subliminally pervasive but never shown. The movie begins at the end of this young soldier’s life. You don’t see the IED crushing his head, only a closed casket.
Iraq was a recent war, a different war, the same war forever recycling itself.
What makes “Taking Chance” so searing is the respect, dignity and love that informs each gesture Phelps receives during his final march home.
The gentle, meticulous washing of the body, the blood-stained watch and dog tags at the military mortuary at Dover Air Force Base evoke a taharah. It is a sacred act connoting exceptional dignity and diligence. Phelps’ uniform, although his family would never see it, is perfectly creased.
As Chance Phelps’ coffin is transferred on and off airplanes, Strobl stands before it and slowly raises and lowers his arm in a perfect salute. Flight captains and passengers pause. Workers remove their hats. The whole world stops.
Strobl is a conflicted man. A veteran of the Gulf War and Operation Desert Storm (1991), he was assigned to a desk job at Marine Corps Base Quantico during Operation Iraqi Freedom 12 years later. Torn between guilt and the joy of being with his wife and children, he volunteers for the escort mission. This is his redemption, although he doesn’t realize it until later.
Like a shomer, he remains with the body until the mortician in Dubois, Mont., prepares it for burial. The night before the service in the gymnasium, Strobl sits erect in full uniform all night on a folding chair. The next morning, he presents Phelps’ watch, dog tags and a cross he carried with him in Iraq to the family. At that very moment he starts receding into the background. Chance Phelps is home. Strobl’s job is done.
On the 70th anniversary of the liberation of the concentration camps, we focus on honoring survivors whose numbers dwindle daily. The Greatest Generation is also losing, or has already lost, the battle of age. A high proportion of soldiers who served in Iraq now struggle with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder: nightmares, anxiety, amputated limbs, amputated hearts.
Ambrose concludes his book Band of Brothers with a passage from Shakespeare’s “Henry V.” King Henry addresses the troops before the Battle of Agincourt:
But we shall be remembered;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother.
Memorial Day, this year and every year, is for them — and for us all.
Copyright © 2015 by the Intermountain Jewish News
