A Necessary Tragedy

It was a scary time. The Japanese Empire had mounted a sneak attack on our military facilities at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. We suffered devastating losses and the U. S. was at war. President Roosevelt called it “a day that will live in infamy” and even though I was only 5 years old and didn’t really understand those words, I definitely remember being scared for us all. Everyone was. Fear of attacks on the western United States mainland were expected and resulted in nation-wide blackouts and air raid drills. Those I remember vividly. Sirens would begin to wail some nights, sending us into panic mode. It was so frightening to have to put out all the lights, even to the point of covering radio dials, while we listened to news. I remember sitting in the dark trying to hear the Japanese planes that might come. Fortunately, they didn’t.

Ration stamp books appeared for everyone. Many things were in short supply. I remember my mother only allowing me one teaspoon of sugar on my cereal, saying we had to save the second one for ‘the soldier boys.’ There were scrap drives and paper drives to help out the government in its mobilization efforts for war. Young and not-so-young men were drafted into the armed forced or volunteered to serve. One of those was my cousin, Sammy. He joined the Marines and was immediately sent overseas after basic training.

Sammy was my Aunt Emma’s son. Emma was married to my Uncle Sam Williams. She was my father’s sister and she and her family lived some forty miles from us. We would all get together from time to time, particularly on my Grandmother Ora Lee’s birthday in July. Emma was a very lively, sweet, humorous lady. I enjoyed being around her. But Sammy I ADORED. I looked forward to seeing him because he would spend so much time with me, riding me around on his broad shoulders and tickling me until I couldn’t breathe.

The war seemed to go on and on. It just became routine for us to hear that Sammy had written and he was doing okay. The family joke was that my brother Billy had been drafted even though he was blind in one eye and had feet as flat as a fritter. He went for training someplace in Georgia and after three months was discharged. I remember by dad getting a good laugh about that.

Sammy was missing in action. That’s what the telegram said that Aunt Emma and Uncle Sam received. We went to see them. They were so scared. They seemed to be different people, at least to my young eyes. I didn’t understand how they could lose him. He was so big. Then came word that Sammy was killed in action. I didn’t believe that I would never see him again, never ride on his shoulders, never see his laughing face.

The funeral was so strange to me. The casket was there, unopened. I didn’t think Sammy was really in there. My mother told me they couldn’t open the casket. I couldn’t understand why. We all knew Sammy. Why didn’t he want us to see him? There was a picture of him there, all handsome and smiling, so young, so promising, so brave, so precious to us all. Now all gone forever. Aunt Emma sat beside him, looking as if she might be made of wax, stiff and unsmiling except when receiving condolences from friends and family.

Emma and Sam never really recovered from Sammy’s death. They withdrew from life and became reclusive. I saw them once more at Grandma’s birthday celebration that summer. At the party I went over to Aunt Emma and told her how much I missed Sammy. Without a word she turned and walked into the nearest room and closed the door behind her. I don’t think I’ve ever felt worse in my life. It took a long time for me to truly understand these events. I wish Aunt Emma was still here for me to try to explain my feelings back then.

War is, by its nature, cruel. When a combatant dies, the bullet, the bomb, the IED, the booby-trap, the bayonet, the napalm, whatever the method of killing, does far more killing than is realized. For somewhere, somehow, those who loved the dead soldier also die in one form or another. War, declared or not, has always, will always, be with us to protect our freedom, our nation, our way of life. Would it were not so. Sadly, there will always be necessary tragedies.

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