by Peter Butzerin.
The First World War ended on November 11, 1918. At least, that’s when the fighting stopped, and the Germans withdrew east of the Rhine River. Woodrow Wilson spelled out a framework for peace and guidelines for the post-war world known as “The Fourteen Points.”
Now, Germany didn’t surrender, but they did request a cease fire and asserted a willingness to negotiate peace along Wilson’s lines. Peace only came in 1920 after years of another kind of warfare called diplomacy. Sadly, the European victors abandoned Wilson’s Fourteen Points, blamed the war on Germany, and demanded that the Germans pay crippling reparations. This set the stage for what inevitably happened just around twenty years later. Nevertheless, the fighting was effectively over.
Originally, the November 11th anniversary was observed as “Armistice Day,” and in the United States it was set aside to memorialize the American Soldiers that gave their lives in the First World War. We lost over 116,000 lives in the “war to end all wars.” Over half were actual combat fatalities; the Spanish Flu killed an appalling number of soldiers as well. To give you some perspective, we lost half that number – 58,000 – in the Vietnam War. Up to that point, the First World War was the biggest and deadliest conflict in human history.
In 1954, the name Armistice Day was replaced by “Veterans Day,” and became a day to remember all of our war dead, a number now increased by the over 400,000 fallen Americans from World War II and Korea. It was also set aside as a day to commend overseas veterans that survived. All veterans should, of course, be honored every day. A separate day of remembrance was established to commemorate all the
fallen. It was instituted shortly after the Civil War and is now observed as Memorial Day.
We owe these men and women our gratitude and remembrance.
Death always leaves pain and grief in its wake. In my family, we try as hard as we can to remember and revere the family’s fallen soldiers. This is to forestall what we call “second death:” the last time you are thought of by those you left behind.
The First World War was particularly hard on my family; of the three men we sent to war, only one came home alive. That doesn’t count my Aunt Eula, who went over as a Red Cross nurse officer. She served at dressing stations very near the front, but she made it home. Her young infantry lieutenant fiancé, who would certainly have become her husband after the war, was not so fortunate.
My Uncle Roy, a decorated sergeant of engineers, was killed at the Battle of the Argonne Forest. It’s a painful reality that my family now could, and should be, several times larger now than it is.
We recall and share their stories, honoring their names and deeds, even now, over a hundred years later. I tell my children stories of how Eula made Christmas trees at the front with decorations made from bandage tape and candy wrappers. How Roy wrote home jokingly that the only way to survive a German direct artillery barrage was to jump to the ground and dig a trench with your helmet before you hit the ground. Sadly, his young life ended when that didn’t actually work.
It’s important to learn not just history, but your family’s history. Prevent their second death: recall their names and tell their stories. Our veterans fought and died for our country. We owe it to them to keep their memories alive and pass their legacy on to our children.
