Across The Fence: Remembering

Ninety-five years ago, at the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month the "War To End All Wars" came to a close. November 11, 1918 marked that ending and was known as Armistice Day, for many years, until it became Veterans Day. Had it been a true and lasting worldwide armistice it would likely still be called Armistice Day. But sadly, it seems that it actually spawned a proliferation of world conflicts that continue to this very day. And so to honor those who have served in subsequent wars as well, it has been renamed Veterans Day.

From June of 1914 until November of 1918, over 9 million soldiers were killed in action, more than 21 million soldiers wounded in battle and an estimated 5 million civilians lost their lives due to starvation, disease and exposure. That's over 9,000 deaths a day, every day for four and a half years, and even more horrific, World War Two took four times that number.

Two years ago, on the 93rd anniversary year of that historic armistice, the last World War One veteran from the United Sates, Frank Buckles, died on February 27. Buckles was an ambulance driver on the European Front. In 1917 Buckles tried to enlist but the Marines turned him down and so did the Navy. However, an Army sergeant passed him on to a captain, who asked him for a birth certificate. "I explained that when I was born in Missouri, birth certificates were not a public record," Buckles remembered. "It would be in the family Bible. And I said, 'You wouldn't want me to bring the family Bible down here, would you?' He said, 'Go on, we'll take you.'"

Perhaps less well known is that this date also marks another tribute to those who have sacrificed their lives on the battlefields of the world. Three years after Germany signed the armistice agreement that ended WWI, The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier was dedicated in a funeral service for an unknown American soldier who had been buried on a French battlefield. His remains had been returned to the U.S. just two days prior to the three-year anniversary of the armistice on 11/11/1921. He was interred with a two-inch layer of French soil beneath him as a reminder of the battlefield on which he fought and died.

October 24, 1921, Edward F. Younger of the U.S. Army 50th Infantry, who had fought valiantly in the trenches, was twice wounded, decorated, and promoted to the rank of Sergeant, stood alone inside the city hall in Chalons-en-Champagne, France. Alone except for the four coffins that sat before him. In his arms he awkwardly cradled an oversized spray of pink and white roses as he slowly walked around the unadorned pine caskets. The hard leather heels of his spit-shined dress shoes snapped loudly on the polished marble floor and echoed through the closed chamber. Above the fragrant blossoms, that he held in the crook of his arm, there dangled from the breast pocket of his uniform the ribboned testament of his valor, the Purple Heart and the Distinguished Service Cross.

Reverently he circled the perimeter of the four caskets that stood side-by-side until suddenly stopping at the head of the third coffin. He paused briefly, leaned forward and gently placed the bouquet upon the smooth-grained lid then quickly stood at rigid attention and raised his hand to his brow in solemn salute.

Outside the chamber, Major Harbold, in charge of the burial detail, and the five other pallbearers waited quietly for Sgt. Younger to emerge.

Two days earlier, the bodies of four, unidentified American servicemen had been exhumed from four different American cemeteries on French soil. There was one soldier from each cemetery at Aisne-Maine, Meuse-Argonne, Somme and St. Mihiel. After Sgt. Younger's selection, only one soldier would represent and honor the 1,237 unidentified U.S. servicemen that had been killed in battle.

However, preparations for this day, and the historic ceremony that would follow had begun eight years earlier when on March 4, 1913 the U.S. Congress passed a bill, introduced by Judge Ivory G. Kimball, to construct the Arlington Memorial Amphitheater. Groundbreaking ceremonies occurred two years later and on October 15, 1915 President Woodrow Wilson placed the cornerstone for the historic structure. Judge Kimball did not live to see the completion of his longstanding dream and died before the memorial was completed, five years later, on May 15, 1920.

The marble for this tomb was mined from the Yule Marble Quarry in Marble, Colorado. It is also from this quarry that the marble for the Lincoln Memorial was taken. Rectangular in shape, the tomb is open to the ground below and covered with a stone slab at the top. Inside this structure, the Unknown Soldier would be laid to rest and later, a large marble monument would be placed above.

In March of the following year, 1921, Congress approved the burial of one unidentified U.S. serviceman from WWI to be interred in the marble tomb and the ceremony would be held on the third anniversary of the end of the war to end all wars, Armistice Day, November 11, 1921. The chiseled inscription on that tombstone reads, "Here Rests in Honored Glory An American Soldier Known But to God"

Sgt. Younger, long remembered that day in France when he chose the Unknown Soldier, "...Major Harbold, the officer in charge of grave registrations, told us, 'One of you men is to be given the honor of selecting the body of the Unknown Soldier.' He had a large bouquet of pink and white roses in his arms. He finally handed the roses to me. I was left alone in the chapel. There were four coffins, all unnamed and unmarked. The one that I placed the roses on was the one brought home and placed in the national shrine. I walked around the coffins three times, then suddenly I stopped. What caused me to stop, I don't know. It was as though something had pulled me. I placed the roses on the coffin in front of me. I can still remember the awed feeling that I had, standing there alone."

This Armistice Day, I remember three brothers who fought side by side in the muddy and bloody trenches of World War I. These brothers were my maternal grandmother's brothers, Lee, Earl and Allie Stephan. All three were survivors of that terrible war, but being a survivor did not mean that they were not casualties.

Lee was the youngest and least impacted of the three. His scars were not readily visible but he carried the wounds of remembering and the horrible images of war were deeply etched on his memory. His brothers, Earl and Allie were less fortunate.

Uncle Allie was bedridden for as long as I remember. His appearance was ghostly white, his flesh virtually colorless except for burn scars on his face and neck. His blue eyes were skimmed over with a creamy film that rendered him nearly blind. His speech came in breathless, guttural sounds that I barely understood. My mothers explanation for his condition was, "He was gassed."

Uncle Earl had some difficulty in breathing and was often 'not well' with headaches and other illnesses not discussed. Today we call it Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Back then they called it "shell shock."

This is their story as I remember it told to me.

That day in the trenches probably began just like every other day. The rising sun cast it's warming rays on a landscape that looked more like how the desolate surface of the moon must look. Winding trenches stretched from horizon to horizon. Gouged-out craters filled with putrid water where human corpses floated face down while fearless rats scurried between, hastily dug, shallow graves.

The trenches were crowded, filthy and muddy. There were no sanitary facilities. Disease and infection were widespread among the sick and wounded and before the day was over there would be more sick, more wounded, more graves.

As the bombardments began, the commanding officer brought the troops to their feet and lined them up along a stretch of trench more than 100 yards in length. Soldiers stood shoulder-to-shoulder, rifles at the ready, bayonets fixed. The commanding officer peered over the edge of the trench, across the battlefield littered with the carnage of the last unsuccessful charge, shouted a half-hearted battle cry and ordered his men up and over the trenches edge and onward across the battlefield.

Earl and Allie were side by side when the charge began. Dodging enemy rifle fire and exploding shells, they crouched as low as possible as they dashed from crater to crater. Suddenly, Earl was alone. Looking back, Earl saw Allie lying sprawled upon the ground, the yellow fumes of mustard gas curled over his body and around his face. Allie gasped for air, drawing the deadly gas deeper into his lungs. Without hesitation, Uncle Earl threw down his rifle, ran back to his wounded brother, pulled him from the ground and carried him back to the relative safety of the trench they had recently left.

Uncle Allie never recovered from the effects of the mustard gas. The commanding officer saw Uncle Earl throw down his weapon and run in the opposite direction of the charge. Uncle Earl was court martialed for cowardice in the face of the enemy. His defense was not accepted.

My thanks to all who have served our country and to those who have given their lives for the cause of freedom. May they all be gratefully and eternally remembered.

M. Timothy Nolting is an award winning Nebraska columnist and freelance writer. To contact Tim e-mail; [email protected]