In the United States, June 6, 1944 will receive passing mention on news programs and social channels. There are few, if any, parades or official remembrances. Even those veterans who fought across the beaches and on to Berlin will receive scant recognition for what they did to liberate a continent and preserve the blessings of freedom for those who would follow.
In Normandy, they have not forgotten. They have not forgotten the Nazi occupation nor those who came ashore and dropped from the heavens [79] years ago. There are parades, remembrances, reenactments, parachute drops, and fireworks. The entire region, thousands of people, come out to welcome these heroes of the WW II generation, hug them, kiss them, ask them for photographs and autographs, and listen to their stories, stories they remember as if D-Day were yesterday.
But D-Day was not yesterday. It was [82] years ago. Those who fought there are creeping up on a century of life; some have passed that milestone. Soon they will walk among us no longer, their legacy honored by some, unappreciated by others, forgotten by too many.
The people of Normandy remember what it was like to be invaded and oppressed. And they remember what it was like to be liberated. They pass along the stories and the appreciation. What these men did on June 6, 1944, and in the months that followed will not be forgotten here. It is a privilege to spend time with them on the beaches, fields, and towns in which they fought.
As I push Walter Stowe through the Brittany American Cemetery in his wheelchair, he reminds me that in life we will touch a great many people. The question, he says, is will the people whose lives we touch be the better for it? Wise words.
Remember these citizen soldiers today and every day. Spend time with them at every opportunity. Listen to their stories. Embrace their wisdom. And when the last of them walks among us no longer, honor their sacrifice by standing strong for the freedoms for which they fought.
Remember them.
Read it all and watch President Reagan’s speech from 1984.
Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force! You are about to embark upon a great crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty loving people everywhere march with you. In company with our brave Allies and brothers in arms on other fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world.
Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well trained, well equipped and battle hardened, he will fight savagely.
But this is the year 1944! Much has happened since the Nazi triumphs of 1940-41. The United Nations have inflicted upon the Germans great defeats, in open battle, man to man. Our air offensive has seriously reduced their strength in the air and their capacity to wage war on the ground. Our home fronts have given us an overwhelming superiority in weapons and munitions of war, and placed at our disposal great reserves of trained fighting men. The tide has turned! The free men of the world are marching together to victory!
I have full confidence in your courage, devotion to duty and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full victory!
Good Luck! And let us all beseech the blessings of Almighty God upon this great and noble undertaking.
— Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower
(For a fascinating story about what General Eisenhower was saying to his troops in the picture above, click here).
Today marks the 84th anniversary of the beginning of the Battle of Midway (June 4-7, 1942), the decisive turning point in the war against the Japanese during World War II. It was unique in that the opposing navies never fired a direct shot at each other. It was all fought through the air.
Read more about Midway here and check out the video below.
For you history buffs who want the real thing, check out this video below.
I also want to commend to your viewing the 2019 release of the film Midway. It is one of the most compelling, gripping movies I have watched. If you want to see real courage and heroism in play, you won’t be disappointed.
An appropriate post of the day after Memorial Day and an opinion piece with which I very much agree. One of the things that I find distressing is the embrace of lawlessness by so many in this country, especially many of our leaders. It is one thing to disagree with policy/politics; it is quite another thing to disagree to the point where one advocates the destruction of our government and way of life and/or violence against our leaders. Let us not forget the sacrifices of so many to preserve the lofty ideals of our nation, even if we as a nation have failed to live them out perfectly. After all, who among us is perfect? As long as we have imperfect people—which will be the case until our Lord Jesus returns to consummate his saving work—we will have imperfect governments/societies. Those who advocate utopias, especially those who advocate for socialism/communism, are living in an unreal world of make-believe. For those with ears, listen and understand.
As America approaches its 250th anniversary, we are not merely preparing to celebrate a birthday. We are being forced to take inventory.
Two and a half centuries of independence did not arrive cleanly, cheaply, or inevitably. This nation was built through sacrifice, protected through sacrifice, and if it is to endure, it will be protected through sacrifice still.
That is the hard truth Memorial Day asks us to confront. Not for one long weekend. Not for one parade. Not for one moment of silence before the burgers hit the grill. But every day after.
For those who have experienced war, Memorial Day is not confined to a square on the calendar. It lives in names, faces, dates, empty chairs, folded flags and memories that arrive without warning. The fallen gave everything in an instant, and the living carry it for a lifetime. That burden is not theoretical. It has weight.
For the rest of America, Memorial Day should serve as an annual inventory. A national and personal audit. We read their names. We say their names. We teach their names. But the harder question is this: Am I living in a way that honors and upholds the memory and sacrifice of the fallen?
That question matters because freedom is not inherited cleanly. It is handed down through blood, grief, courage and loss. We are not simply beneficiaries of liberty. We are debtors to it.
Abraham Lincoln understood this at Gettysburg. Standing on ground soaked with sacrifice, he called on the living to dedicate themselves to “the unfinished work” of those who gave their lives. That charge has not expired. The fallen left unfinished work behind. The work of preserving the Union. The work of defending liberty. The work of making America worthy of the men and women who never came home.There is an old saying: A soldier dies twice. Once when and wherever they draw their last breath and a second time when their name is spoken for the last time.
That is why remembrance matters. But remembrance alone is not enough.
Saying their names keeps memory alive. Living worthy of their sacrifice gives that memory force. It turns reverence into action. It turns gratitude into responsibility. It turns Memorial Day from a passive observance into a lifelong commitment.
The fallen did not sacrifice everything so we could become cynical, divided, lazy, or indifferent. They did not give their tomorrows so we could squander our today. They died for the ideal of this nation, for what America could become, and in a very real sense, for you and me personally.
That creates an obligation.
Not everyone is called to wear the uniform. But every American is called to carry part of the load. Build stronger families. Strengthen your community. Work hard. Build businesses. Create jobs. Serve your neighbors. Teach your children why this country matters. Invest in the places and people around you. Solve problems instead of only complaining about them. Leave your corner of America stronger than you found it.
That may sound simple. It is not. It requires discipline, humility and a willingness to put something bigger than self above comfort.
Memorial Day should make you a little uncomfortable. Because sacrifice should never be comfortable. But from that discomfort can come gratitude. And from gratitude, a commitment to live better—not in guilt, but in honor.
And yet sadly, for most Americans, it merely marks the start of summer. It’s beach chairs and burgers, sales and three-day weekends—a reprieve from work with little thought given to the sacrifice this day was meant to honor. But for those of us who’ve stood on foreign soil, witness to teammates who never came home, Memorial Day is a haunting—but beautiful— reckoning we face each year.
There’s a harsh truth about war that never leaves you: the fallen gave everything in an instant—and the living carry it for a lifetime.
For those with ears to hear, listen and understand. Read it all.
This Memorial Day, many Americans will gather for barbecues, enjoy a long weekend, or mark the start of summer. But amid the festivities, one phrase you won’t—or shouldn’t—hear is “Happy Memorial Day.” Unlike Veterans Day which celebrates service members past and present, Memorial Day is a solemn occasion, a time to honor the American service members who made the ultimate sacrifice. To wish someone a “happy” Memorial Day completely misses the purpose of the day.
Memorial Day, established after the Civil War and formalized as a federal holiday in 1971, is dedicated to those who died in military service. Each flag at half-staff, each wreath laid at Arlington National Cemetery, represents lives cut short—sons, daughters, parents, and friends who never returned home. Their sacrifice secured the freedoms we cherish.
That’s why the words we choose on this day matter. Memorial Day actually isn’t about celebrating service members. It isn’t even a time to advocate for greater benefits for our veterans. It’s a day to reflect on the sacrifice of those few brave men and women in uniform who gave their lives for our country. Accordingly, we ought to choose words that promote the true purpose of the day.
For those with ears to hear, listen and understand. Read it all.
Today marks the 81st anniversary of V-E Day (Victory in Europe Day), May 8, 1945, in which the Allies celebrated the unconditional surrender of Nazi Germany the day before. Take a moment today and thank God for bringing us victory over evil. Remember the brave men and women who fought against Nazism. If you know a veteran who is still alive, take time today and thank him (or her) for his service to our country. Ask that person to tell you his story and remember it so that you can pass it on to your children and others. Nazi Germany may be a thing of the past, but unspeakable evil certainly is not.
Editor’s Note: Edward Kennedy, AP’s chief of bureau in Paris, was the first to file a story announcing the end of the war in Europe. Kennedy and other reporters had witnessed the German surrender at Reims, France, and had been told by military officials that they could not report the event until it had been announced by the Allied governments in Washington, London and Moscow. The military later said it would be the following day before the surrender news could be transmitted because a second surrender ceremony was being planned for Berlin. Kennedy decided to break the embargo when the surrender was announced – at the request of the Allies – on German radio. Military censors retaliated by suspending the AP’s filing privileges from Europe. (The ban was lifted after six hours.)
Here is the first word that moved over the AP wire at 9:35 a.m. New York time on May 7, 1945:
FLASH
REIMS FRANCE–ALLIES OFFICIALLY ANNOUNCED GERMANY SURRENDERED UNCONDITIONALLY.
That transmission was followed one minute later by:
BULLETIN
BY EDWARD KENNEDY
REIMS, FRANCE, MAY 7-(AP)-GERMANY SURRENDERED UNCONDITIONALLY TO THE WESTERN ALLIES AND RUSSIA AT 2:41 A.M. FRENCH TIME TODAY.
Here is the rest of Kennedy’s story:
The surrender took place at a little red schoolhouse that is the headquarters of Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower.
The surrender was signed for the Supreme Allied Command by Lt. Gen. Walter Bedell Smith, chief of staff for Gen. Eisenhower.
It was also signed by Gen. Ivan Susloparov of the Soviet Union and by Gen. Francois Sevez for France.
Gen. Eisenhower was not present at the signing, but immediately afterward Gen. Jodl and his fellow delegate, Gen. Admiral Hans Georg Friedeburg, were received by the Supreme Commander.
They were asked sternly if they understood the surrender terms imposed upon Germany and if they would be carried out by Germany.
They answered yes.
Germany, which began the war with a ruthless attack upon Poland, followed by successive aggressions and brutality in concentration camps, surrendered with an appeal to the victors for mercy toward the German people and armed forces.
After having signed the full surrender, Gen. Jodl said he wanted to speak and received leave to do so.
“With this signature,” he said in soft-spoken German, “the German people and armed forces are for better or worse delivered into the victor’s hands.
“In this war, which has lasted more than five years, both have achieved and suffered more than perhaps any other people in the world.”
Today marks the 56th anniversary of the confrontation between the Ohio National Guard and students at KSU. When it was all over, four students lay dead and others seriously wounded. I was a junior in high school when this happened (also on a Monday) and I remember wondering if our country was not coming apart at the seams—a fear not unlike I have about our country today. It was simply unbelievable. Take a moment today to remember this tragedy and ask God to heal his broken and hurting world, a world gone increasingly mad.
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1807 – 1882. Had to learn this poem in Junior High School and it remains a classic today, even if it is sadly ignored by those who should be teaching it.
Listen, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five: Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year.
He said to his friend, “If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry-arch Of the North-Church-tower, as a signal-light,— One if by land, and two if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the country-folk to be up and to arm.”
Then he said “Good night!” and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, Just as the moon rose over the bay, Where swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war: A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon, like a prison-bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide.
Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street Wanders and watches with eager ears, Till in the silence around him he hears The muster of men at the barrack door, The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, And the measured tread of the grenadiers Marching down to their boats on the shore.
Then he climbed to the tower of the church, Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, To the belfry-chamber overhead, And startled the pigeons from their perch On the sombre rafters, that round him made Masses and moving shapes of shade,— By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, To the highest window in the wall, Where he paused to listen and look down A moment on the roofs of the town, And the moonlight flowing over all.
Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead, In their night-encampment on the hill, Wrapped in silence so deep and still That he could hear, like a sentinel’s tread, The watchful night-wind, as it went Creeping along from tent to tent, And seeming to whisper, “All is well!” A moment only he feels the spell Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread Of the lonely belfry and the dead; For suddenly all his thoughts are bent On a shadowy something far away, Where the river widens to meet the bay,— A line of black, that bends and floats On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.
Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride, On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. Now he patted his horse’s side, Now gazed on the landscape far and near, Then impetuous stamped the earth, And turned and tightened his saddle-girth; But mostly he watched with eager search The belfry-tower of the old North Church, As it rose above the graves on the hill, Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. And lo! as he looks, on the belfry’s height, A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight A second lamp in the belfry burns!
A hurry of hoofs in a village-street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed that flies fearless and fleet: That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light, The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
He has left the village and mounted the steep, And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; And under the alders, that skirt its edge, Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.
It was twelve by the village clock When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. He heard the crowing of the cock, And the barking of the farmer’s dog, And felt the damp of the river-fog, That rises when the sun goes down.
It was one by the village clock, When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon.
It was two by the village clock, When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock, And the twitter of birds among the trees, And felt the breath of the morning breeze Blowing over the meadows brown. And one was safe and asleep in his bed Who at the bridge would be first to fall, Who that day would be lying dead, Pierced by a British musket-ball.
You know the rest. In the books you have read, How the British Regulars fired and fled,— How the farmers gave them ball for ball, From behind each fence and farmyard-wall, Chasing the red-coats down the lane, Then crossing the fields to emerge again Under the trees at the turn of the road, And only pausing to fire and load.
So through the night rode Paul Revere; And so through the night went his cry of alarm To every Middlesex village and farm,— A cry of defiance, and not of fear, A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, And a word that shall echo forevermore! For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, Through all our history, to the last, In the hour of darkness and peril and need, The people will waken and listen to hear The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed, And the midnight message of Paul Revere.
Today is the 294th anniversary of George Washington’s birthday. Happy birthday, Mr. President! To our great detriment, Americans are forgetting about our first president. This is sad, in part, because without him, there would not likely be the USA that we know today. Let us hope and pray the woke crowd does not succeed in wiping his name and memory out. That would be a horrible tragedy and injustice for our nation. Do yourself a favor and learn about this extraordinary man with whom God blessed this country.
To the world’s amazement, Washington had prevailed over the more numerous, better supplied, and fully trained British army, mainly because he was more flexible than his opponents. He learned that it was more important to keep his army intact and to win an occasional victory to rally public support than it was to hold American cities or defeat the British army in an open field. Over the last 200 years revolutionary leaders in every part of the world have employed this insight, but never with a result as startling as Washington’s victory over the British.
On December 23, 1783, Washington presented himself before Congress in Annapolis, Maryland, and resigned his commission. Like Cincinnatus, the hero of Classical antiquity whose conduct he most admired, Washington had the wisdom to give up power when he could have been easily become dictator. He left Annapolis and went home to Mount Vernon with the fixed intention of never again serving in public life. This one act, without precedent in modern history, made him an international hero.
In the years after the Revolutionary War, Washington devoted most of his time to rebuilding Mount Vernon, which had suffered in his absence. He experimented with new crops and fertilizers and bred some of the finest mules in the nation. He also served as president of the Potomac Company, which worked to improve the navigation of the river in order to make it easier for upstream farmers to get their produce to market.
In the United States, June 6, 1944 will receive passing mention on news programs and social channels. There are few, if any, parades or official remembrances. Even those veterans who fought across the beaches and on to Berlin will receive scant recognition for what they did to liberate a continent and preserve the blessings of freedom for those who would follow.
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