Framing the Dialogue

I think continually of those who were truly great.
Who, from the womb, remembered the soul’s history
Through corridors of light where the hours are suns,
Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition
Was that their lips, still touched with fire,
Should tell of the spirit clothed from head to foot in song.
And who hoarded from the spring branches
The desires falling across their bodies like blossoms.
 
What is precious is never to forget
The delight of the blood drawn from ancient springs
Breaking through rocks in worlds before our earth;
Never to deny its pleasure in the simple morning light,
Nor its grave evening demand for love;
Never to allow gradually the traffic to smother
With noise and fog the flowering of the spirit.

 
Near the snow, near the sun, in the highest fields
See how these names are fêted by the waving grass,
And by the streamers of white cloud,
And whispers of wind in the listening sky;
The names of those who in their lives fought for life,
Who wore at their hearts the fire’s center.
Born of the sun, they traveled a short while towards the sun,
And left the vivid air signed with their honor.
 

          ~ Stephen Spender ~

This is a photograph of my mother’s brother, William.  I cannot really bring myself to call him my uncle as he died 16 years before I was born and I never got to know him.  I did not know much about William as our family did not really discuss him.  I do not know if it was too painful and they just wanted to forget.  My Uncle Bill was killed while fighting in France in 1944.  He was part of the greatest generation. 

As I get older and gain an appreciation for history, I feel closer to William.  From what I can piece together from family stories, Uncle Bill married his sweetheart just before leaving to fight in World War II with the US Army 90th Infantry Division.  Military records are scarce as we were told in a letter from the National Personnel Records Center that a fire destroyed the major records of Army military personnel for the period 1912 through 1959. 

I believe that William landed at Utah Beach and fought for nearly two months before being killed in or near Saint-Lo. France.  I seem to remember being told that William had the opportunity to join the Military Police and as such might not have been exposed to the front line.  He declined as one of the greatest generation would.  The story that I remember was that he was killed when a grenade exploded in his Jeep. 

As the most recent anniversary of D-Day passed, I started thinking about Uncle Bill again.  He was awarded the Purple Heart and I wonder if his widow still has it.  I wonder if she is even still alive.  She would have to be in her late eighties by now.  I would assume that she remarried as she was very young when she was widowed.  Did she have a family?  Did they know about her first husband?  She was also part of that greatest generation.  Her sacrifice was also great and I would have liked to have known her too.

Uncle Bill is surrounded by nearly 10,000 other soldiers in the Normandy American Cemetary.  The soldiers’ graves face westward, toward the United States…toward a home they would never see again.  I hope to visit Plot C, Row 14, Grave 33 someday and introduce myself to Uncle Bill. 

“The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.”