On Veterans Day, the nation remembers the sacrifices and contributions of millions of special people. Kaua’i’s Ed Kawamura Sr. submitted this inspirational message written by a member of the American Legion for the occasion. Eternal vigilance is the price of
On Veterans Day, the nation remembers the sacrifices and contributions of
millions of special people. Kaua’i’s Ed Kawamura Sr. submitted this
inspirational message written by a member of the American Legion for the
occasion.
Eternal vigilance is the price of Liberty.”
That’s
as true now as it was during The American Revolution. Yet, vigilance is but a
portion of the full price of freedom – the rest is paid in blood.
One
million men and women have laid down their lives in defense of our nation since
1776. Each raised his hand and took an oath to protect and defend the
Constitution of the United States from all enemies, both foreign and domestic.
Each made the supreme sacrifice and their legacy is the freedom we enjoy
now, and too often, taken for granted.
We usually refer to the magnitude
of those sacrifices by reciting numbers. There are the number of killed,
missing, wounded, and served — yet behind every number is a real person — a
real story. I want to share one of those stories with you today.
Jack
Lummus grew up in the small town of Ennis, Texas. He played baseball and
football at Baylor University, and was twice an All-American nominee. He had
signed a letter of intent to play football with the New York Giants in 1941. He
was on the brink of a professional sports career.
Then the Japanese bombed
Pearl Harbor and that dream ended. Jack, a man who knew the importance of
service to country, joined the Marines. Soon he was commanding a platoon of
dedicated young warriors.
Jack was a popular figure among his men. The
muscular 6 foot, 3 1/2 inch Texan had a winning smile and a can-do attitude. He
was what you might call a “natural born leader.”
That leadership
was tested a short time later on an island called Iwo Jima. Seventeen days
after the Marines landed on the island, Jack and his platoon were slowly
advancing on the enemy’s position. Under constant hostile fire, Jack and his
men fought to gain ground inch by desperate inch.
Jack’s patience wore
thin. He could stand the tedious, deadly pace no longer. During a particularly
hostile Japanese attack, in an effort to neutralize the enemy position, he
moved forward alone.
His award citation reads, “Although knocked to
the ground when an enemy grenade exploded close by, he immediately recovered
himself and, again moving forward despite the intensified barrage, quickly
located, attacked and destroyed the occupied emplacement.
“Instantly
taken under fire by the garrison of a supporting pill box and further assailed
by the slashing fury of hostile rifle fire, he fell under the impact of a
second enemy grenade, but continued his heroic one-man assault and charged the
second pillbox, annihilating all the occupants.”
Under withering fire
from yet another Japanese position, Jack worked his way back to his platoon’s
position, fearlessly crossing the lines under fire, encouraging his men to
advance and directing the fire of supporting tanks.
“Held up again by
a devastating barrage,” the citation continues, “he again moved into
the open, rushed a third heavily fortified installation and killed the
defending enemy.” Jack and his men continued to move forward, determined
to crush all enemy resistance. Jack was several yards in front of his men,
leading the attack.
Then it happened.
Jack tripped a land mine and
absorbed the full blast. His men couldn’t see him through the dust and flying
rocks and shrapnel.
Moments later, they saw Jack on his stomach, covered
in blood, struggling to lift himself up. Within seconds they heard his voice
urging them forward as he waved them on.
Then they saw it.
Jack’s
legs were gone. He was balancing himself on two bloody stumps, rallying them
forward.
Without regard to his own pain, he encouraged and inspired his
troops. Jack did his duty over the clash of battle; all that could be heard was
his voice, “move out, move out, move out.” And the platoon scrambled
forward.
Their tears turning to rage, they swept an incredible 300 yards
over the impossible ground, and at nightfall were on the ridge, overlooking the
sea.
There was no question that the dirty, tired men, cursing and crying
and fighting, had done it for Jack Lummus. And Jack knew it. Throughout the day
he stayed conscious and greeted fellow Marines who came to see him at the aid
station.
As he was being carried out on a stretcher, he told a surprised
surgeon, “I guess the Giants have lost the services of a damn good
end.”
Despite the transfusion of 18 pints of blood, and the
indomitable spirit of a warrior, the wounds sustained during the battle for Iwo
Jima were just too much for Jack to overcome.
He died later that day,
March 8, 1945, one of 1,101 Marine officers and 22,056 enlisted men killed or
wounded in capturing the 7-square-mile, pork-chop-shaped island.
His men
buried him at the base of Mount Suribachi.
For “His dauntless
leadership and unwavering devotion to duty,” Jack Lummus was awarded the
Medal of Honor.
Jack Lummus was a hero, although he probably never thought
of himself in those terms, and neither do the millions of others who survived.
Some saw combat, most didn’t, but all played an important role. For every one
who went to the front, three stayed behind and provided support – three or more
ensured that their comrades would have the needed supplies.
Today we honor
and remember 26 million such Americans-Americans who answered their country’s
call.
They no longer wear their uniforms, and they put their medals away
long ago.
So how do you know who is a veteran?
You don’t.
She’s
a retired lady who lives down the street from you, who ferried aircraft
“across the pond” in World War II.
He’s the city councilman, who
fought with the Marines in the fire and ice of Korea
She is your high
school biology teacher, who worked as a nurse to save the lives of hundreds of
wounded G.I.s during Vietnam.
He is a police detective, who served in the
U.S. Air Force during Desert Storm.
He or she is one of 2 million active
duty and reserve military members proudly serving America in 134 countries
around the world.
And I, too, am a Legionnaire, proud to be a part of your
celebration and remembrance today.
On this Veterans Day, we salute all of
our nation’s veterans, those who have worn the uniform in the past, and those
who wear it today.
We owe our freedom to them.
There is no better
time than now to say “Thanks, I know what you did. I appreciate it.”
They deserve no less.
