With only a couple days of separation between today and June 6th, we hear bombastic assurances from our president that Iraq is another World War II, implying, of course, that he is a leader of courage and vision against a foe worthy of sacrificing our youth, squandering our resources, and raiding our war chests that had been ear-marked for the fight against ignorance and poverty, illness and homelessness.

We are bereft, and the comparison between now and June 6th of 1945 only adds to our national feeling of disgrace and sadness. To quote loosely from a song of grief, “We feel like motherless children.”

In World War II, the nation could turn to Mrs. Roosevelt, as a kind of motherly figure, she of the compassionate heart and stalwart resolve. Don't misunderstand me. Laura Bush is a fine lady, but she isn't a woman for today's needs. She is the president's lady, not her own person, not our woman, not a mother for our people. Perhaps inside her heart, she is. That wouldn't surprise me, for she often comes off as caring and gentle. It's just that she echoes support for this war her husband and his cohorts have hatched under cover of night, and expect applause in the light of day.

Sorry. A president who goes to great lengths to hide the cost of war in bankrupting the treasury for decades to come, to say nothing of the mothers, wives, children and friends weeping over their loved ones, is not a leader, no matter the White House address.

By foisting upon us this trumped-up war, Bush has shamed our country and our people. destroying our reputation for courage and honor, complete with “shock and awe” bullying of this war of aggression.

Was the period on the home front filled with perfect patriots in World War II? No. There were those who would use the black market to get extra ration stamps for sugar, meat, shoes, gas, etc., but they were in the minority, and, when discovered, not only faced the penalty of Uncle Sam, but the wrath and contempt of neighbors. All Americans were in the war together, whether in Bataan, North Africa, Iwo Jima, the Philippines, or Peoria, Illinois. They worked together, wept together, prayed together, and even, thank God, laughed together.

Dads would take out their flashlights at night and patrol as block captains, making sure that lights did not show through the windows. They attended meetings and spread the word about what to do in the event of an air raid, and asked for more hands to roll bandages for those wounded in battle. They encouraged children to hunt for tin foil and bring it to the center, along with fat saved in mason jars. Everyone was drafted in one way or another, and almost without exception, everyone wanted to help.

No one was ashamed to pray, either. In those simpler times, the churches were open day and night. Often, young people would stop to pray before and after dates, and lit candles for their friends in harm's way. In the back of churches could be seen plaques with the names of those who had died.

No matter how Catholics tried, they could not keep up with the demand of the service men and women for rosaries made by those of all ages, with blue cords, and white, plastic crosses. They knotted Hail Marys and Our Fathers while riding buses, waiting for doctor appointments, listening to the news, or watching a sleeping child.

I think the rosary was for the military the New Testament in the fifteen decades, and knowing it was in their pockets as they sloughed through swamps or waited to jump over enemy territory, no doubt gave them courage and comfort.

What about the thousands who waited those days before D-Day? What were their thoughts? We know from the writer of World War II, John Keegan, that throughout the week, they were confined to camp, isolated from human contact and entertained by cinema shows and record concerts.

The leaders were convinced that the casualties would be high. Most of the Americans and some of the British had no battle experience and contemplated the coming ordeal with sang-froid: those British divisions which had been brought home from fighting in the desert and Italy were altogether less optimistic. They knew the ferocity with which the Wehrmacht fought and did not relish meeting it in the defense of the approaches to the Reich. Lieutenant Edwin Bramall, a new subaltern with the veteran 2nd King's Royal Rifle Corps (and a future British chief of staff), thought the battalion was ‘worn out.’

By contrast, Keegan states, Eisenhower's naval aide found the young American officers who had not seen action ‘as green as growing corn’, and asked himself, “How will they act in battle and how will they look in three months' time?” Such worries proved to be unfounded. Most British troops, however battle-weary, rose to the challenge of Normandy; the Americans grew into it almost overnight, once again demonstrating that three minutes of combat exceeds in value three years of training in making a soldier. No military formation, moreover, was to win a more ferocious reputation in Normandy than the 12th SS Panzer Division ‘Hitler Jugend’, whose soldiers had been recruited direct from the Nazi youth movement at the age of sixteen in 1943.

When the morning of D-Day dawned, the spectacle, Keegan says, was perhaps more dramatic than any soldiers, sailors or airmen had ever seen at the beginning of any battle. On the Normandy coast, the sea from east to west and as far north as the seaward horizon was filled with ships; literally by the thousands, and the sky thundered with the passage of aircraft.

These words give us pause. Iraq and Afghanistan give us pause. This isn't the same June 6th as a year ago. We are not the same people. We've lost our self-respect. We've lost our way. But not for good. We can rise from the ashes of confusion and despair. We can apologize to the entire world for our pride and betrayal of the ideals decent people everywhere hold dear. We've sold the world's trust for the rancid pride of going to war just because we could.

And if anyone thinks it can be won again without humility and prayer, hard work and honest dealing with those within and beyond our borders, he or she is living in a world of make-believe.

We're in this together, friends. Let us pray for all those who have so generously given “the last full measure of devotion” on every battle field, that we might live in freedom. May we become day by day, worthy of their sacrifices for this great, but crippled land of ours, and promise to strive for the time when we shall be a Land of Hope for the world once more. Eternal rest give unto them, O Lord, and a nation's heartfelt thanks. God bless us all.

Home

Archives