The Soldiers and Sailors war monument at the Peoria County Courthouse
On Memorial Day and every day, may we honor those military veterans who risked their lives so that ‘this nation might live’
Abraham Lincoln never planned it, but his Gettysburg Address on Nov. 19, 1863 was the foundation for America’s first Memorial Day. Lincoln’s two-minute speech embodies the fundamental principles underlying the reasons that men and women sacrifice their lives for the security and well-being of the nation.
‘We just did what we had to do and returned home to live our lives’ — Congressman Bob Michel
Lincoln had thought long and hard about the immense loss of life at the battle of Gettysburg from July 1–3 of that year. He tried to make sense of those 51,000 deaths, of Americans killing Americans for different purposes. (Vietnam totaled 58,209 casualties). In the end, those Civil War deaths, some 620,000, would exceed the sum of all other major wars involving this nation from 1775 to today.
Why do we risk the lives of our family members and fellow citizens in war? As Lincoln saw it, it is because “our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.” A great Civil War would test that “proposition” as to whether this “nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure.”
America’s founding beliefs, fixed and immutable, were precise and concise: “All men are created equal … and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” This is our national vision. And it’s why we have a Memorial Day to honor those who “gave their lives that this nation might live” and “that these dead shall not have died in vain.”
This statue, called War Dog, depicts a U.S. soldier during the Vietnam War. Sculpted by Erin Mallon, it is part of the veterans memorial, A Final Salute, at the Peoria County CourthouseThe bronze statue of a Korean War soldier was sculpted by Preston Jackson
This is what it means to be an American. It doesn’t take a political scientist, philosopher or theologian to grasp and understand any of this. It is on the battlefields where patriotism becomes stronger than life itself. No nation can “long endure” when that is not the case.
Everything about America rests on two basic beliefs: “All men are created equal” and “a government of, by, and for the people.” That, in a nutshell, is the “proposition” to be believed, honored and fulfilled by every generation.
Furthermore, what we know now that Lincoln never did is that human beings, homo sapiens, share 99.9 % of the same DNA. Biologically speaking, there is only one race. America stands for either one human family or nothing at all.
To protect, serve, and honor that “proposition,” our nation readies men and women for war. Each “solemnly swears to defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies … and to obey the orders of the President of the United States … so help me God.”
No one knows where that will bring them. Here are two short stories about where these pledges may lead.
Private Leo Draminski landed on the shores of Iwo Jima in 1945. He had volunteered for the Marines, leaving behind his wife and 2-year-old daughter, whom I would marry decades later, in Kewanee. His letters home spoke only of how much he missed them, of the heat, routine and canned food.
Leo’s family never knew of the horrors that awaited him and the 3rd Marine Division on Iwo Jima. Japanese snipers were positioned throughout the island. Each had a quota to kill 10 Americans. The island was a death trap. American bodies, Leo later said, “were stacked high like logs on a rack.” There was a brief break in the killing — a deadly one. While the Marines huddled together smoking cigarettes, a sniper shot Leo’s buddy in the head. “It could have been me,” Leo said. He would never forget the memory.
Stu Ruch volunteered immediately after high school graduation in Springfield, joining the Army Air Force. Decades later, we would be fellow runners. His second mission, on April 29, 1945, had him flying to an island almost 1,000 miles away from his base in Guam. Just enough fuel to hit the targets and return.
Bulls-eye with the first bomb. Then all hell broke out. The bomb-bay doors got jammed. Then the Japanese anti-aircraft batteries let loose. One of the four B-24 engines was hit and erupted in flames. Oxygen tanks, hit by shrapnel, exploded in the abdomen of the plane. The crew quickly extinguished the fires, fixed the bomb-bay doors, and returned for a second and third attack.
Stu, the bombardier, was like a sitting duck in the nose of the B-24. The plane took 75 hits during the attacks, yet he bombed all of his targets. On the return trip, the plane went into free fall when the second engine lost fuel. “I never prayed so hard in my life,” recalled Stu, who would write in a letter home, “I thought we were goners that day.”
The entire crew survived and later received the Distinguished Flying Cross. Not a one thought of himself as a hero. Like everyone else, they were just doing their duty. As Stu said, “One name was left off the crew’s list: God.”
Why did it take until 2004 for a World War II Memorial? Congressman Bob Michel, a Purple Heart and Bronze Star recipient, told me: “We never thought of it. We just did what we had to do and returned home to live our lives.” And so did the Leos and Stus of that generation.
Memorial Day honors those who risked their lives “that this nation might live.”
John F. Gilligan, PhD
is a clinical psychologist and president emeritus of Fayette Companies. He lives in Groveland
Let us salute Leo, Stu, Bob and so many more
On Memorial Day and every day, may we honor those military veterans who risked their lives so that ‘this nation might live’
Abraham Lincoln never planned it, but his Gettysburg Address on Nov. 19, 1863 was the foundation for America’s first Memorial Day. Lincoln’s two-minute speech embodies the fundamental principles underlying the reasons that men and women sacrifice their lives for the security and well-being of the nation.
‘We just did what we had to do and returned home to live our lives’ — Congressman Bob Michel
Lincoln had thought long and hard about the immense loss of life at the battle of Gettysburg from July 1–3 of that year. He tried to make sense of those 51,000 deaths, of Americans killing Americans for different purposes. (Vietnam totaled 58,209 casualties). In the end, those Civil War deaths, some 620,000, would exceed the sum of all other major wars involving this nation from 1775 to today.
Why do we risk the lives of our family members and fellow citizens in war? As Lincoln saw it, it is because “our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.” A great Civil War would test that “proposition” as to whether this “nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure.”
America’s founding beliefs, fixed and immutable, were precise and concise: “All men are created equal … and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” This is our national vision. And it’s why we have a Memorial Day to honor those who “gave their lives that this nation might live” and “that these dead shall not have died in vain.”
This is what it means to be an American. It doesn’t take a political scientist, philosopher or theologian to grasp and understand any of this. It is on the battlefields where patriotism becomes stronger than life itself. No nation can “long endure” when that is not the case.
Everything about America rests on two basic beliefs: “All men are created equal” and “a government of, by, and for the people.” That, in a nutshell, is the “proposition” to be believed, honored and fulfilled by every generation.
Furthermore, what we know now that Lincoln never did is that human beings, homo sapiens, share 99.9 % of the same DNA. Biologically speaking, there is only one race. America stands for either one human family or nothing at all.
To protect, serve, and honor that “proposition,” our nation readies men and women for war. Each “solemnly swears to defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies … and to obey the orders of the President of the United States … so help me God.”
No one knows where that will bring them. Here are two short stories about where these pledges may lead.
Private Leo Draminski landed on the shores of Iwo Jima in 1945. He had volunteered for the Marines, leaving behind his wife and 2-year-old daughter, whom I would marry decades later, in Kewanee. His letters home spoke only of how much he missed them, of the heat, routine and canned food.
Leo’s family never knew of the horrors that awaited him and the 3rd Marine Division on Iwo Jima. Japanese snipers were positioned throughout the island. Each had a quota to kill 10 Americans. The island was a death trap. American bodies, Leo later said, “were stacked high like logs on a rack.” There was a brief break in the killing — a deadly one. While the Marines huddled together smoking cigarettes, a sniper shot Leo’s buddy in the head. “It could have been me,” Leo said. He would never forget the memory.
Stu Ruch volunteered immediately after high school graduation in Springfield, joining the Army Air Force. Decades later, we would be fellow runners. His second mission, on April 29, 1945, had him flying to an island almost 1,000 miles away from his base in Guam. Just enough fuel to hit the targets and return.
Bulls-eye with the first bomb. Then all hell broke out. The bomb-bay doors got jammed. Then the Japanese anti-aircraft batteries let loose. One of the four B-24 engines was hit and erupted in flames. Oxygen tanks, hit by shrapnel, exploded in the abdomen of the plane. The crew quickly extinguished the fires, fixed the bomb-bay doors, and returned for a second and third attack.
Stu, the bombardier, was like a sitting duck in the nose of the B-24. The plane took 75 hits during the attacks, yet he bombed all of his targets. On the return trip, the plane went into free fall when the second engine lost fuel. “I never prayed so hard in my life,” recalled Stu, who would write in a letter home, “I thought we were goners that day.”
The entire crew survived and later received the Distinguished Flying Cross. Not a one thought of himself as a hero. Like everyone else, they were just doing their duty. As Stu said, “One name was left off the crew’s list: God.”
Why did it take until 2004 for a World War II Memorial? Congressman Bob Michel, a Purple Heart and Bronze Star recipient, told me: “We never thought of it. We just did what we had to do and returned home to live our lives.” And so did the Leos and Stus of that generation.
Memorial Day honors those who risked their lives “that this nation might live.”
John F. Gilligan, PhD
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