Why Remember?

Every month I write a small piece for Navy Region Singapore's newsletter The Merlion Star. As I prepared for this month I couldn't help but remember an amazing speech given by the then Australian High Commissioner at the 2016 ANZAC Day Remembrance Service. It highlighted a different, and I think correct way of remembering loss as a nation. So on this Memorial Day, I offer it here in this space as well.

Greetings,

At last year’s ANZAC Day ceremony here in Singapore Philip Green, the then Australian High Commissioner, spoke about why Australia and New Zealand annually remember a day of defeat in Gallipoli. He said it was a day in which Australia and New Zealand “gained a sense of nationhood and identity with a new self-consciousness that arose from a moment of national crisis.” He also discussed the importance isn’t just what a society remembers but also how society remembers events. For Aussies and Kiwis, the rituals of ANZAC day helps them “reflect on [their] shared history and learn from it. These rituals provide an atmosphere for reflection, a way of reimaging our past and its connection to our present.”

He highlighted that ANZAC day is an “active and changing way in which we configure the past, understand the present, and imagine our future. How we do it matters to our collective sense of self, and the collective sense of our futures.” There is also a tradition of welcoming more people into the remembrance and into the story of ANZAC so that other societies can learn from a shared remembrance. Those of us who have attended an ANZAC Day can attest to the power of such a shared remembrance.

This month, Americans take time to pause and reflect on those we have lost in our wars over the last 200 years. Unfortunately, commemoration of that day in America has become associated more with the beginning of summer and the end of the school year rather than a time of reflection and remembrance. As we make plans to spend the long weekend on holiday in various countries throughout Southeast Asia, let us spend time remembering not just those whom we have lost in our wars, but also on the nature of war and ways in which each of us can work to lessen the need for war.

How we remember those who have sacrificed for us matters a great deal. If we remember through travel and commercial spending, then society defines the sacrifice in those terms. If we remember with honest and sober reflection, followed by large gatherings of our community, then we can shape the communal nature of remembrance and honor sacrifice through thoughtful reflection and participation in the very freedoms people have sacrificed their lives to defend.

Blessings,

Chaps

Two Years Ago

I wasn't really aware of how long it has been since I posted something here until I got on to post something about that night two years ago in Hawthorne, NV. Guess I need to pay more attention when I am actually in port and not on a government computer and able to post.

Anyway, today was a special day not just because it is a day in which all of the Deadwalkers from 1/9 remember our seven brothers lost in a mortar explosion. Today, one of the Corpsmen from that night was awarded the Navy and Marine Corps Medal for his bravery and actions that night. This is the highest award for heroism displayed in peacetime.

On that night, Ian was severely injured by the blast. So much so that he is still recovering from his wounds and has endured multiple surgeries to rebuild his face. Despite his significantly more severe injuries, he repeatedly waved off efforts of others to assist him directing them to his injured Marines. If fact, his airway was blocked and he intubated himself to open the airway, thus saving his own life. I can't even imagine enduring his trauma, much less having the clarity of mind to perform a life saving technique on anyone, including myself.

I didn't get to speak with him that night as he was one of eight Marines and Sailors airlifted to Reno, NV for treatment. However, I was able to speak with him a few days later when he was in between a few surgeries. I walked into his room to check on how he was doing and if there was anything he needed from me or anyone else. Before I could finish saying hello, he had written on a sheet of paper. How are you doing? Corpsman to the core of his being.

The next time I visited two days later, he had an iPad and was rapidly communicating via technology and had been contacted by one of his heroes. Ian, like myself, is from the Triangle and WRAL had done a story on him and alluded to his actions and it came up that he was a huge Duke fan (of course this sat well with his Duke graduate chaplain). Well, Coach K got word of this and personally called Ian's hospital room and spoke with him for a few minutes and promised him the game ball from their upcoming NCAA tournament game and I think also provided him a jersey from that game as well. Small tributes for a outsized man.

I am glad I get to know and work with men and women such as this Devil Doc. He is a Deadwalker to the core.

I got to see photos of him receiving his medal today and am proud of him and his progress towards a full recovery.

Remembering Guadalcanal

I’ve been out to sea for almost a month, so no real activity on the blog because not much noteworthy happens on an open ocean transit. But, sometimes an amazing opportunity presents itself.

One of the great things about this who Navy Chaplain gig is that I get to travel to some amazing places and am provided with opportunities that most pastors never consider possible. I was honored and humbled to participate in a remembrance service off the coast of Guadalcanal this past week.

The CO of the ship on which I am currently embarked received a note in his suggestion box regarding a family connection with a survivor of the Battle of Guadalcanal. The sailor briefly described how is grandfather was in the battle and the ship he was on sank in Savo Sound, commonly referred to as Iron Bottom Sound because there are 46 warships resting on the bottom following 6 months of battles. This sailor also wrote that it was a dream of his since joining the Navy to make it to that specific spot in the ocean.

On the same night the sailor placed the suggestion, he stopped me in the passageway and gave me a brief rundown of how excited he was that he may travel close to the site of his grandfather’s ship. The next morning, the CO mentioned the note and asked me if I would put together a short service in case we passed close by the wreckage of the USS LAFFEY. As luck would have it, we were not only traveling through Savo Sound to refuel in Guadalcanal, our track was close enough that we could alter course slightly and pass directly over the LAFFEY.

I worked with the sailor and developed a short remembrance service to honor all who perished in the Guadalcanal campaign. This sailor created a memorial of sorts by adding a weight to his Dixie Cup (that is the trademark white cover that enlisted sailors wear) that he could place in the water and have it rest close to the ship.

With everything set, about 40 of us gathered on the flight deck as we departed Guadalcanal and with both Guadalcanal and Savo Island in clear view we conducted a short ceremony. In addition, the sailor chose to re-enlist in the Navy in the same spot in which his grandfather survived a major naval battle and the sinking of his ship.

No matter how long I am a chaplain, I will always remember two things about this whole experience off Guadalcanal. The look on a sailor’s face when I told him that the CO wanted me to do a ceremony to honor his grandfather and fulfill a life long dream of that sailor. And, the fact that I was called upon by a ship to conduct a ceremony in some historic waters, somewhere I may never have the opportunity to set my sight upon again.

This is what being a chaplain is all about.

Uncomfortable with Vets

I know it has been a long time since the last post, but I took some much needed time off work after the deployment and am now getting back into the swing of things. Work has returned with a vengeance, but is starting to settle down a bit and I hope to post at least every other week.

One thing I was asked to do at the end of last month was to speak to my Presbytery (they are the governing body of me as a minister) about what I do as a chaplain, how a chaplain ministers in combat and how churches can help out chaplains. I think this blog has covered the first two items over the last few months, mostly in order to provide a glimpse of life in Afghanistan to the families of 1/9, but I haven't really talked about the last item. Reflecting on the topic before the talk, I realized that chaplains really need to take the lead in speaking out on how to care for our service members who are deployed, combat or not. We have a unique inside angle on the spiritual needs of service members and sometimes we allow ourselves to stay fairly isolated from the larger faith community to which we belong. I realized that at times I also fall into this category and have forced myself to keep that from happening.

There is a distinct divide between those who serve and those who don't. I don't hold myself in greater esteem because I serve a unique congregation, but I think faith communities would do a better job supporting chaplains and their "flock" if they knew what we did and if we actually told them what support we needed. Sure, I could just rely on the military programs for helping my Marines and sailors, but I honestly believe that faith communities (regardless of their theology or beliefs) need to take a larger role in caring for those who have served.

Most congregations I have attended during my years on active duty talk about serving the military. But, they do so through care packages and prayer. I'm not discounting the need for these things. Personally, I am convinced the prayers of many people across the country played a role in my entire battalion making it home alive and with all their limbs. We had many close calls that I could never explain why those guys are still here with me today except through some divine plan I don't understand and probably never will. And care packages are vital for morale as they serve as tangible evidence they are not forgotten. Opening those boxes brings many smiles thousands of miles away. I would just ask churches to contact the receiving unit before sending something. When you send without knowing the needs, some stuff may end up in the burn pit.

In reflecting on the idea of what churches can do for those who serve in the military (and this would probably hold true for other groups who avoid church) is to allow themselves to feel uncomfortable. Uncomfortable sitting beside someone who may have killed in combat. Combat those in the congregation send into combat by the way. A congregation who is willing to sit with and come alongside that individual as they work out what they saw and did in combat. A congregation willing to enter into the murky and uncomfortable world of ethics in combat, what some have called "ethical warriors" or "noble warriors." A congregation that will listen in love and not judge them because they are in the military. Some may come seeking repentance for what they have seen and done. Some may say they have done nothing wrong. Both of them should be welcomed with open arms into our congregations. We say no sin is too large for God, we need to live that out. These conversations are messy, painful, uncomfortable, unruly. But they are beautiful, healing, at times joyful. I know as I have them on a regular basis and many of those conversations don't deal with combat related issues. I encounter more service members damaged from other aspects of society than their deployment to Afghanistan. Even an atheist in my battalion recognizes the need for somewhere for his young Marines to have these conversations.

Without a healthy and supportive environment to work through this discomfort, my Marines and sailors will seek unhealthy ways to navigate the issues. Chaplains are only in their lives for a short amount of time. I have only been in 1/9 for 16 months and almost half of them will be in other units by April. Churches, synagogues, mosques, etc can offer a stable long-term presence in the lives of my service members. Especially if a denomination embraces this call and no matter where they are stationed they can turn to a specific faith group for a loving community to be there if they are needed. If you are reading this and a member of a faith community I challenge you to go beyond prayer and care packages and invite your vets to discuss what needs they have.

I am more than willing to discuss this with anyone who wants to explore ways to provide such a community, regardless of your faith preference. Just drop me a line or discuss freely in the comments.

Home Sweet Home

We are all finally back in NC. I arrived at Cherry Point at 0230 on Christmas morning and then it took 5 hours to get the bags unloaded, drive to Camp Lejeune and then get all the weapons turned in before we met the families and everyone else waiting for us at 0730. It was a great Christmas present for us all and I am glad to be back.

I went into work today to drop some stuff off and check in. Tomorrow thing start back up with a regular schedule. I kind of like the Navy way of ending a deployment. You pull in and then go on leave as soon as everything is settled with the return. The Marines do it a bit differently. I got one day off and then some today as I didn't go in until the afternoon, but I still will have the rest of the week as work days and then after the new year we have more days of classes and stuff and the battalion doesn't get its leave block until January 11th. Makes it feel less like a deployment and more like a long field operation.

But, the most important thing about our return. EVERYONE MADE IT HOME! No KIA during the deployment and I find that impressive with all the fire fights and IEDs we encountered in 7 months. That speaks volumes to the Marines and their leaders over the deployment. We had many close calls but everyone made it back alive and no one lost any limbs. There are still some Marines in the hospital due to injuries, but again they all came back in one piece. Thanks to all who prayed for 1/9 the last few months.

Merry Christmas

I guess since everyone else is posting related to today being Christmas Eve, I'll join in the party.  I'm headed home for the holiday and will be back down to Lejeune on Sunday night as I have to take over CACO watch starting Monday morning and have it through the new year.  No parties for me I guess.  Seeing how I'll be deployed next year doing ministry to those who stand the watch I figured I borrow some poems I found over at Blackfive that sum up why I find it important to be doing what I do in taking care of the Marines and Sailors with whom I serve. 

The first one is pretty well known among the military circles:

‘Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one-bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney, with presents to give
and to see just who in this home did live.

As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.

With medals and badges, awards of all kind,
a sobering thought soon came to my mind.
For this house was different, unlike any I’d seen.
This was the home of a U.S. Marine.

I’d heard stories about them, I had to see more,
so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.

He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,
Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.
Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read?
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan.
I soon understood, this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night,
owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight.

Soon around the Nation, the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year,
because of Marines like this one lying here.

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye.
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.

He must have awoken, for I heard a rough voice,
“Santa, don’t cry, this life is my choice
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more.
My life is my God, my country, my Corps.”

With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep,
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.

I watched him for hours, so silent and still.
I noticed he shivered from the cold night’s chill.
So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
and covered this Marine from his toes to his head.
Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,
with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.
And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside.

I didn’t want to leave him so quiet in the night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
But half asleep he rolled over, and in a voice clean and pure,
said “Carry on, Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all secure.”
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and goodnight.

©Copyright circa 1991 by James M. Schmidt
(As printers in the December 1991 issue of the USMC magazine, Leatherneck)

The second I just saw for the first time today and wanted to post it as well as it is a good thing for those who don't have the best of feelings for the military to read to get an insight into why those in the service volunteer to stand watch this time of year:

A DIFFERENT CHRISTMAS POEM

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,

I  gazed round the room  and I cherished the sight.

My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,

My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,

transforming the yard to a winter delight.

The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,

completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,

Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.

In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,

So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,

But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.

Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,

Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,

And I crept to the door  just to see who was near.

Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,

a lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,

Perhaps a Marine, huddled  here in the cold.

Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,

standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,

Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,

You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,

Away from the cold and the  snow blown in drifts..

To the window that danced with a warm fire's light.

Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,

I'm out here by choice. I'm here every  night."

"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,

That separates you from  the darkest of times.

No one had to ask or beg or implore me,

I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.

My Gramps died at 'Pearl on a day in December,"

Then he sighed, "That's  a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."

My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam,'

And now it is my turn  and so, here I am.

I've not seen my own son in more than a while,

But  my wife sends me  pictures, he's sure got her smile.

Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,

The red, white, and  blue... an American flag.

"I can live through the cold and the being alone,

Away from my family, my house and my home.

I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,

I can sleep in a  foxhole with little to eat.

I can carry the weight of killing another,

Or lay down my life with my  sister and brother..

Who stand at the front against any and all,

To ensure for all time that  this flag will not fall."

"So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,

Your family is waiting  and I'll be all right."

"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,

"Give you money," I  asked, "or prepare you a feast?"

It seems all too little for all that you've done,

For being away from  your wife and your son."

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,

"Just tell us you love  us, and never forget.

To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,

To stand your own watch, no matter how long.

    For when we come home, either standing or dead,

To know you remember we fought and we bled.

    Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,

That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.

H/T Subsunk at Blackfive

My prayer for this night is for the safe return of those who are standing the watch tonight.  I have good friends all around the world tonight and I remember the days I was out there at Christmas.  We treated it like any other day knowing that we'd get a chance to celebrate it when we got back.  And I also use this night to pray for everyone to finally lay down arms and see beyond our nature to see God's good plan for us.  But until then, I'll continue to serve those who are on watch as long as God sees fit.  

Merry Christmas!