Sixteen hundred years after the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in A.D. 79, explorers uncovered the aftermath of tragedy that had swept away the town of Pompeii. Inhabitants were found where death had overtaken them–cellars, attics, streets–in their desperate flights from the tide of volcanic gases and the storm of falling ashes. But the Roman sentinel's skeleton-hand still grasped the hilt of his sword. Stationed there by duty, death had met him at his post.
As I write this on Memorial Day with the 60th anniversary of the Normandy Invasion a week away, I highlight one veteran–my dad–as an illustration of the 16 million "ordinary" citizens whom duty compelled into an extraordinary conflict not of their choosing.
During World War II, Floyd McAlister served in the U.S. Naval Service-Coast Guard as a member of the Naval Amphibious Forces for 39 months and 19 days. Stationed in both England and North Africa, he made 35 trips on LST-16 across the English Channel during the Normandy invasion delivering tanks, trucks, jeeps and men.
The ship had already made three trips when he joined it as a pharmacist's mate. Over the next three weeks, the three doctors and 12 medics already on the ship would be assigned elsewhere, leaving him to attend the crew by himself.
Crises sometimes arose because only an extreme emergency justified breaking radio silence to locate a ship with a doctor. The captain ordered him, for example, to treat as best he could an inexperienced cook whose shoulders and back had been doused with boiling water.
A similar situation arose after a gunner's mate thrust his hand into the breech of one of the ship's guns to free a stuck shell. When the shell suddenly loosened, the mate pulled out a hand with only a nub of a thumb and had to be treated, again without a doctor's supervision. But both men survived.
He later saw duty in the Pacific and was stationed in the Philippine Islands where his ship transported three loads of occupation forces to Tokyo Bay in preparation for an invasion of Japan. He separated from LST-16 in November 1945 and returned to the States.
Families adapted, and Mother worked to support herself during the war. She followed Daddy to his initial duty station in Astoria, Oregon. Having left her there when he returned to Arkansas for his mother's funeral, he was ordered to New York City for his training as a pharmacist's mate.
Again Mother followed, finding employment at Kress on Fifth Avenue and working the lunch counter at Woolworth's until Daddy shipped out 15 months later. Sacrifice was expected.
With three-fourths already deceased, World War II veterans are dying at a rate of almost 1,100 per day. And though the gruesome, cowardly enemy of terrorism confront us repeatedly, may we gratefully observe these faithful, aged warriors and learn:
Wherever duty to God and country have placed us at home or abroad, let us meet the enemy at our posts.
(This article is based on research and a term paper prepared by my son for one of his college classes.)
Copyright 2004 James McAlister
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