Conversations in Management
Bill
Mauldin was in a cemetery and addressing a Memorial Day
gathering in 1956 when he made this observation. He went on to
add, “By what right did some stray piece of metal go sailing
past our heads and hit them?” It’s a question a
lot of combat veterans ask themselves and one which rarely
produces a satisfactory answer. But he was speaking to a wider
audience as well. On that day Mauldin gave voice to the feelings
experienced by everyone—fellow GI’s, family, loved ones,
friends, acquaintances—whose lives are forever changed when
the comfortless reality of war takes another life. For these
folks, everyday is Memorial Day.
Mauldin
was a credible spokesman on the subject. In 1940, he’d joined
the 45th Division of the Arizona National Guard—two
days before it was federalized. On the strength of a course he’d
completed the previous year, he landed an off-duty job as
cartoonist for the Division’s newspaper. It was a fortuitous
move for both Mauldin and the Army. His characters, Willie
and Joe, resonated with soldiers everywhere and gave
America’s home front some sense of what a dogface put up
with on a daily basis. Willie and Joe were un-pressed,
rough-shaven and resigned to their circumstances. Yet despite
the hardships, they maintained a quiet dignity. Mauldin said of
them, “Their nobility and dignity come from the way they live
unselfishly and risk their lives to help each other. …They
wish to hell they were someplace else, and they wish to hell
they would get relief. They wish to hell the mud was dry and
they wish to hell their coffee was hot. They want to go home.
But they stay in their wet holes and fight, and then they climb
out and crawl through minefields and fight some more.”
Mauldin wasn’t just an observer—he was an infantryman. He fought
in the Italian Campaign and was wounded at Cassino. He didn’t
just draw dogfaces, he was one. That’s why in the decades that
followed the war he couldn’t forget that everyday is Memorial
Day.
Today,
Memorial Day is a three day weekend and a welcome relief from a
long, dry spell between federal holidays. It’s the start of the
summer season. That means cook-outs, travel and getting together
with friends. It marks the celebratory end of the school year
and, for the lucky, graduation. It’s a weekend extravaganza of
sales for consumers anxious to score a deal. For some who wonder
about what the day commemorates, it has a hazy meaning and is
easily confused with Veteran’s Day. Many won’t wonder.
Many won’t care. But some will remember. They’ll
remember those who unselfishly gave their lives to help each
other and to help us all. The ones who remember will be those
who know that everyday is Memorial Day.
We all
know that time passes and things change. Vivid memories grow
dim. The commemoration of our war-dead that began with parades,
flags and speeches, over time becomes aged fingers pressing the
raised letters on a plaque while forcing to memory the image of
one long-ago departed. The first-hand recollections of the
survivors become the second-hand stories of their children and
then indistinct reminiscences of grandchildren and finally
they’re forgotten. Forgotten, that is, unless we determine to
remember—to remember the names, the faces, the lives cut short,
and the potentials that will never be fulfilled. To those who
have given everything we owe the simple act of
remembering. We need to remember that everyday is
Memorial Day.
—Ebert
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