2022 Memorial Day Service

I was asked to be the guest speaker at Carlyle’s 2022 Memorial Day service. I began by recognizing veterans and those who lost relatives or loved ones during our country’s wars. 
 
Then I gave a brief history of Memorial Day. It began—I didn’t know this—after the Civil War in which 622,000 soldiers perished. It began as Decoration Day, begun by the Grand Army of the Republic, a fraternal organization composed of veterans of the Civil War. It didn’t become a national holiday until 1971. 
 
I added, “I find it disconcerting that the holiday has evolved into one on which all graves are decorated. In my opinion it dilutes the original intent of the holiday—to remember and honor those who died for our freedoms.” 
 
Then I turned to my platoon. During my year-long tour sixteen of my platoon’s young men died. Their average age was 20.5. 
 
I knew when I would be drafted seven months in advance. While in my third semester of college I received a notice advising me that my student deferment had been terminated and I was now 1a, which meant ready to be drafted. I visited the local draft board, who said I didn’t fill out a questionnaire—they put a notice on the bulletin board at the school but I didn’t see it. They told me I’d be drafted in seven months. That gave me time to mentally prepare to be a soldier. During that time I concluded that I wanted to be where the action is. Once inducted I volunteered for Vietnam and the infantry, two options not very hard to get in the 60s. 
 
I figured, all I have to do is be careful; nothing’s gonna happen to me. Once in Vietnam I quickly learned that that notion is as false as it could be. I wrote that 19 to 25 year olds make the best soldiers for the same reason they make the worst drivers. They have not yet realized their own mortality—how easy it is to die. 
 
Next I discussed two of my platoon’s casualties.  
 
Bernard Mattson was from Peoria, and arrived around the same time I did. So we became friends, and hung around together. On 12 Jan 68 our company was assigned the task of searching a suspected VC village. We surrounded it to prevent VC from escaping and reinforcements from arriving. Then half of each platoon entered the village to conduct the search. I was on the search team, and while we were in the village the VC mortared our positions on the perimeter. Of course everyone hugged the ground and pulled buttons from their shirts to get closer. One small piece of shrapnel entered Mattson’s left side beneath his armpit, and pierced his heart. Medics tried to save him, but there was nothing they could do. He was 20. 
 
Kellum (Kelly) Grant was one of the old timers in the platoon when I arrived; he was due to go home soon. On 4 May 68 we assaulted an enemy position on line with everyone throwing a lot of lead to gain what the military calls fire superiority. One of the enemy reached up and squeezed the trigger of an RPG (rocket-propelled grenade). It hit Grant in the chest, killing him instantly. I was not far to his left, and have a piece of shrapnel in my chin from the explosion. Grant was also 20. 
 
Then I read an excerpt from my book, which began when I arrived in-country:  “I would soon learn two things. First, there are certain things that soldiers in combat can do to reduce their chances of becoming a casualty; second, there are more ways to increase those chances.” Both types of lessons had to be learned quickly, and most of the details were not taught during our training. Unfortunately, these skills and knowledge increased but did not guarantee a soldier’s chance of surviving.
 
“In the end, those who died or were wounded terribly were not the poorest soldiers. They were not the least prepared or the least careful. Too many of them were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could have easily been someone else. It was, to a certain extent, the luck of the draw.” 
 
So today I will think of Mattson and Grant as well as the other fourteen soldiers from my platoon who didn’t make it home. In our hearts and memories they will remain forever young.