The Band of Brothers Gets Smaller- Buck Compton Dies at Age 90

I just learned that Buck Compton died Saturday.  Here's the story and obit from the LA Times.

Seems the Band of Brothers is getting pretty small.  I really wanted to meet some of these men in this lifetime.  Hopefully, they were believers and I'll get to spend some time with them in the next.  And hopefully they are enjoying their reunion together where,

To fallen soldiers let us sing,
Where no rockets fly nor bullets wing,
Our broken brothers let us bring
To the Mansions of the Lord

No more weeping,
No more fight,
No friends bleeding through the night,
Just Devine embrace,
Eternal light,
In the Mansions of the Lord

Where no mothers cry
And no children weep,
We shall stand and guard
Though the angels sleep,
Oh, through the ages let us keep
The Mansions of the Lord

(Mansions of the Lord, by Randall Wallace)

 

We Lost a Hero

I am saddened by the passing of Maj. Dick Winters this past week.  He needs no introduction to anyone who saw the Steven Ambrose mini-series Band of Brothers, or who read the book.  For those that haven't yet seen it, Maj. Winters was the unlikely hero of Easy Company, 503rd PIR, 101st Airborne Division, in the battles of France and Germany at the end of World War II.  (If you haven't seen it, go NOW and buy or rent it.  It is not appropriate for children because of violence and language, but is essential for adults who want to try to understand the level of sacrifice that generation offered, and to get a comparison of how a we-centered generation lived versus how our me-centered generation(s) live.)

Maj. Winters was truly a hero, though he declined that description for himself.  In his words, he served in the company of heroes.  There were a lot of heroes in those places, some more likable than others; but heroes nonetheless.  For quite a while now, we've been hearing of the death of these men.  As most who served in WWII were born between 1915 and 1925, that generation (the Greatest Generation, as Tom Brokaw appropriately called them) is disappearing quickly.

One of the things about Maj. Winters that is compelling is the thought of him as simply the face of so many unknown heroes just like him.  If you read Ambrose's series of books on that period and place of history, you'll meet many more of them, but they have not had the benefit of a mini-series to bring their stories to light.

I guess this is a reminder of why we should pay our respects (in words and actions) to those who served...we may often be showing our respect to a real hero, and never know it.

Obituary for Major Dick Winters (NY Times)

Remember Pearl Harbor! (And St. Crispian's Day)

Today marks the 69th anniversary of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. 

There are fewer and fewer veterans left who were there...I think the number is in the low hundreds now.  One of the indicators of the gravity of that event is, that even after all these years, many of the veterans of that event choose to be buried in the military cemetery that is comprised of the USS Arizona.  Some of them left good friends there, others just can't get past the events that changed their lives so much in a couple of hours on that December morning.

I honor those who served there, and everywhere else and every-when else, on this day.  Thank you for your service!

Many are aware of the excerpt from Shakespeare's Henry the Fifth St. Crispain's Day speech because of the TV series Band of Brothers.  I'd like to run a bit more of this in honor of those who served, because it truly captures some part of what it means to have been in combat together with your brothers-in-arms.

[The work of Shakespeare is in the public domain, but I borrowed this copy from this web site.  There is a short explanation of the historical events in which Shakespeare placed his fictional speech...interesting read.]

This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.

    He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,

    Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,

    And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

    He that shall live this day, and see old age,

    Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,

    And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'

    Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,

    And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'

    

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,

    But he'll remember, with advantages,

    What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,

    Familiar in his mouth as household words-

    Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,

    Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-

    Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.

    This story shall the good man teach his son;

    And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,

    From this day to the ending of the world,

    But we in it shall be remembered-

    We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

    For he to-day that sheds his blood with me

    Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,

    This day shall gentle his condition;

    And gentlemen in England now-a-bed

    Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,

    And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

    That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

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