Once More, With Feeling

I sit in my home, watching the Memorial Day parade going by. Anyone that knows me knows my feelings about war. I watch the ex-supply clerks riding by or marching with their bellies hanging over their belts, leading troops of Girl Scouts and Cub Scouts and young soccer players and dance classes, all supposedly honoring our war dead. They stop and fire off a volley of rifle fire, probably the last thing that our war dead heard. That seems inappropriate to me.
I have no sons to worry about in war. I have four grandsons but I will be long gone when their time comes. Who will read to them the words of "Dulce et Decorum Est" or explain Passchendaele to them when the poppies are being sold? There will come a time when they hear the Tunes of Glory and feel the same feelings that I felt when my turn came. I remember the day that I told my Father that I had enlisted in the Army. He looked at me silently for a few minutes and then turned away and walked away silently. Much later he said "I don't want to lose my son over oil.". It was many years later when it came out that he knew what he was talking about, the oilfields off of the coast of Vietnam.
So I sit and contemplate the futility of it all. Then the band starts to play "Those Caissons Go Rolling Along". I feel a rush of the pride that I once felt of being part of the Infantry, the Queen of the Battlefield. I remember the purity of Infantry Blue. I have not felt that stirring in many years. Many things can overcome rational thought. I remember the scene fom the movie Cabaret, where the young German boy gets up to sing in his Hitler Youth uniform. You can feel the emotion stirring even if you don't understand the language. My grandsons will hear the music and the valiant words and feel those emotions. Mothers, you must read to them Dulce et Decorum Est. It took more courage to say "Hell No, I Won't Go!" than it took to "Follow Me!". That courage was confirmed on May 4th, I don't remember which year, at Kent State. The young soldiers that fired those bullets were as innocent as the students that were slain by them. It was supposedly a misunderstanding. Misunderstanding, a good definition of war but a poor definition of murder. They heard the music and believed the slogans. The volley that they fired may have done more to end the war than all the bombs and bullets that sluiced their way through human flesh. Hugh Thompson Jr never recieved the Medal of Honor but I honor him in my heart. He is my hero.
As the wars in the East continue on I think of the slogans. Weapons of Mass Destruction and Evil Empire and Axis of Evil. I think of "Remember the Maine" when I read about the situation in Korea. Many years later it is believed that the Maine blew up because of some internal problem but that was long after the establishment of the American Empire and the findings lie covered in dust. Remember the Maine led to our involvement in the Phillipines and Southeast Asia and its oil and may have led to "Remember Pearl Harbor!". That war was necessary. I have never heard a veteran of that combat talk about their war experiences. They just look at you and quietly turn away.
My grandsons will have to make their own decisions, not be swayed by a Chauvanist. I hope that they will have the intelligence to see that the Emperor has no clothes or evidence of WMDs.
Still, the tune lingers on.
"Counter march
Right about
Hear those wagon soldiers shout
As those caissons go rolling along
For it's hi hi hee in the Field artillery
Count off your numbers loud and strong
And where ere we go
You will always know
That those caissons go rolling along"
Caissons, they not only transport artillery. They are also used in funeral processions to carry the casket. Those caissons go rolling along, one way or the other.