Veteran's Day

I attended a Veteran’s Day celebration the other night sponsored by Wintrust Bank in Chicago.  The host of the ceremony introduced each of about a dozen veterans and told a little story about each one, what branch they served in, what they did during the conflict and how they re-integrated into civilian life afterwards.   I was transfixed by these tales.   One medic heroically administered to wounded Afghan soldiers during a firefight with the Taliban in Afghanistan after he himself had been wounded.  One African American bravely fought at Guadalcanal despite the fact that he was the first black man in his unit and his white comrades wouldn’t speak to him.  One soldier fought in the Korean war in 40 below zero conditions, got separated from his unit, was presumed to be MIA, and trekked miles in the snow on frozen feet.  From the Pacific Theater in WWII to Iraq and Afghanistan, each story told of fierce determination under some of the most trying conditions imaginable.

I was struck by a number of common themes.   Each person was quoted as having great pride in his or her branch of service.  Each eschewed being referred to as a hero.  Each felt that they were “just doing their job.”   All of them came home to very little, if any fanfare, and within a few weeks, quietly moved on to the next phase of life.  I was most taken by the fact that many of the WWII veterans were still gainfully employed late in life.  One gentleman still works at Northwestern Mutual at age 93.  I was simply in awe of these great men and women, and had an opportunity to shake hands with many of them and thank them for what they did.

This experience underscores the importance of storytelling.  It is fine to hear about important events through film or books, but they do not have the same impact as hearing them first hand or  through a person connected to the people that were actually there.  I noted in my film review of Austerlitz that the young people showed less reverence and solemnity at the concentration camp museum than the older visitors.  As time passes, things become more remote and less real, less tangible.   My own visceral hatred of Communism came from hearing the first hand stories of those that escaped.  Being chased by guards and dogs through the woods at night.  Seeing a teenage friend shot to death in front of you.  Those images and events gain texture and meaning through the telling.  Otherwise they become as remote as mummies in a museum.  We need to find ways and platforms to keep these stories alive as long as possible.  Otherwise, we risk that evil ideologies like Communism, Fascism, or Nazism become less tangible, less real to us, and we become susceptible to their return in some form.

On my way out, I introduced myself to the bank’s chairman, Ed Wehmer.   I said, “Ed, this was a phenomenal event.  I am so humbled by these great people and the things they did.”

He looked at me and said, “What do WE do?  Nothing, really.”

He is right.  Few of us do things that really matter, at least not in the way that these veterans did.

Veteran’s Day became real to me this year.