Memorial Day

If a life is sacrificed to save another's, we call that person a hero.  And not in the watered down version of the word we hear squawked at us from the evening news so often.  These are true heros, and they are something larger and deeper than most of us can comprehend.  People who "for the greater good" willingly gave their last breath and in doing so transcended mere humanity.  

It is stunning and truly humbling. All the more-so as it happens primarily in war, which more than any other event, brings out the worst and (thankfully) the best in mankind.  

Consider the battlefield; The gratitude of the saved, holding a friend who is leaving. Imagine the quickened breath of the one who stays behind, guarding the rear in a retreat.  Try to envision the clammy skin of the medic who leaves the Huey to drag the injured who couldn't make the last few feet. Listen to the quavering voice of the lowly private who realizes the squad is pinned, and runs towards the guns screaming.  Watch the shaking hands of the sailor manning the guns as the Zero descends, never taking his finger off the trigger when another might have taken cover.  Envision the light, the ripping wet red pain.  Imagine your world darkening, and hearing the staccato beat of your own heart slowing. Imagine, if you can, the stillness that follows after the last shuddering and slow exhalation.  

Now take the breath that someone, somewhere else will never draw again.

Mankind's history is filled with a thousand moments of decision in war.  History tells us that those moments are interspersed among fear, joy, boredom, exhaustion, stark raving terror and anger.  That moment of decision is viewed through tears and recriminations, memories and hopes, loneliness and camaraderie, determination and bravery. But whatever the circumstance, the moment arrives.   It is man at his most primal state. And yet, though self preservation is a primal instinct, the greatest among us give up their own lives in those moments. A self-sacrifice against crimes great and small, from Birkenau to Bahgdad.  

Birkenau. The camera was hidden in a food container, the exposed film was smuggled out in a toothpaste tube. But what about the poor soul who took the picture that proved the atrocities? That brought it to the Allies attention?  He remains behind and well knows exactly what his fate is going to be.  What was his motivation?

Bahgdad. The grenade lands, spinning slowly against the the dirt floor of the hut. If he jumps away, he lives but his friends all die.  He jumps towards the grenade shouting for the rest to take cover. What was his motivation?

Please understand before you answer, that these moments are not colored by odds, there is no gamble against circumstance.  The outcome is guaranteed. They are going to die. Yet they walk into the past with their eyes wide open. What makes them do it? What makes them willing to die for those around them and those yet to be?  They were Fathers, Mothers, Sons, Daughters.  They had family and plans, connections, hopes and dreams.  Why do they relinquish their own future and step forward into pain and that most final ending? What drives that moment of connection,  what creates a willingness to give up everything they are or could ever hope to be?  

Their motivation is above bravery, above courage, above duty, or anything else we may blithely attribute.  These moments of knowing sacrifice are driven by one thing and one thing only -- love. Genuine, pure, unselfconscious love. Love for their friends, love for their families, love for their children's future above their own. Just love.

Take a moment, think about the sacrifice, think about the bravery, and above all else think about the love of those who gave their lives for you.

Today is Memorial Day.