Memorial Day's struggle in small cities

By Ed Hooper

Memorial Day is the only true American people’s holiday. Major General John A. Logan is credited with the 1868 General Order 11 establishing May 30 as the official Decoration Day at National Cemeteries, but it rested solely on citizens to keep it, and they did for a century without official decree or legislation. In one of those strange twists of fate, the Holiday honoring America's fallen would come to include Logan's own son Major John A. Logan, Jr., who was killed in action in the Spanish-American War. He was buried in Youngstown, Ohio's York Hill Cemetery and later awarded a Medal of Honor for his actions on November 11, 1899.

Memorial Day is not a day for veterans. It’s to remember those killed in defense of this nation. A time to honor sailors, soldiers, and airmen like Hospital Corpsman John Willis, who landed with the 27th Marine Regiment at the Battle of Iwo Jima. Going ashore, he rendered aid to the wounded until he himself was knocked down and ordered to treatment. Disregarding being officially released, the Tennessean went back into the battle, aiding the wounded, advancing to the extreme front lines to get them. He was administering plasma under fire when grenades started dropping around his patients. Willis threw eight back at the enemy wreaking havoc and raised the ninth to throw it when it exploded killing him.

PFC Sadao Munemori was a Japanese-American who served with the legendary 442nd Infantry Regiment in Europe. He survived five days of brutal combat against the Germans with his regiment battling to rescue 211 Texans of the lost battalion in 1944. Six months later in the battle for Rome, he cleaned out two German machine-gun nests and was crawling back to a bomb crater for cover when a grenade hit his helmet rolling towards two helpless soldiers in the pit. He pushed himself up in the withering fire and died smothering the blast with his body.

PFC Eugene Obregon at the second Battle of Seoul, Korea, in 1950 was carrying ammunition armed with only a sidearm when he saw fellow PFC Bert Johnson wounded in the middle of a road. The Mexican-American drew his pistol and started firing at an advancing enemy platoon with one hand while dragging Johnson into a shallow ditch and started bandaging his wounds under fire. When the enemy platoon turned toward him, he pushed Johnson down grabbing the wounded man’s rifle and rolled to his side covering his body with his own. He returned fire until he was killed. The Marine beneath him survived to tell the story.

It wasn’t the first battle 1st Sgt Pascal Cleatus Poolaw in the Battle of Loc Ninh, Vietnam, had seen. His service record and medals went back to World War II and made the 45-year-old Kiowa the most decorated man on the field. For nine days he and his 26th Infantry Regiment’s C company battled the Viet Cong. On a search and destroy mission, his unit was ambushed and Poolaw countered the attack. They beat back the Viet Cong when he saw a wounded soldier and pulled him to safety — sustaining the wounds that took his life.

A year later senior Special Forces advisor Sgt. 1st Class Eugene Ashley Jr., would hastily put together an assault force to rescue trapped soldiers at Camp Lang Vei. When communications went down, the 37-year-old African-American sergeant led four unbelievable charges against a determined North Vietnamese Army. Though wounded numerous times, he made one more charge that finally carved a tunnel in the enemy forces allowing the men to escape. Ashley lost consciousness from the wounds received accomplishing it. His men were trying to get him to the medics for treatment when an artillery explosion hit the small group killing him.

These sailors, soldiers and Marines gave their lives to save others. All but Poolaw were posthumous recipients of the Medal of Honor. Rule one of that award is a candidate can’t be following orders to receive it. The sacrifices made by them were their personal decisions. They didn’t care about the color of the men they pulled to safety, the way they prayed, thought, or how they voted. They weren’t servicemen at those moments. They were Americans saving other Americans.

They’re only five of the 1.2 million citizen-soldiers who have given their lives in U.S. wars since our beginning in 1775. We celebrate that founding every Fourth of July and it’s fitting that prior to it, we honor the men and women who gave their lives to keep this nation whole. Arlington and the national cemeteries only contain a fraction of the men and women who have died defending this nation. The rest are found in churchyard and small cemeteries in all 50 states, in foreign nations where they fell, and some we’ll never know where their remains are. It’s why Memorial Day is the most sacred on the nation's holiday calendar.

This year Memorial Day events are making a comeback since the COVID pandemic shut them down. The national event is back on in D.C. and Brooklyn; arguably one of the oldest Memorial Day parades in the nation resumes this year,?but others in small and midsize cities remain cancelled. Milwaukee says their parade is ended for good. South Bend, Indiana cited a lack of volunteers for their cancellation; even among the police, who are needed to man the event. Corporate wokeness is also a new player?with many companies abandoning donating or supporting programs and projects that are patriotic in nature or might be subject to criticism.

Congressional meddling with it in 1968 to make it a three-day weekend led to the holiday's dissipation in meaning. They didn’t even acknowledge its 150th anniversary in 2018. A lot of it also has to do with the dwindling number of veterans in the U.S. and the mixed messages people get about what the holiday represents. It rests on citizens once again to keep it alive and pass on the stories of sacrifice to the next generation that protected this nation from the dustbin of history. It will be the only reason Memorial Day survives as an American tradition.