1
The 30th day of May, 1868, is designated for the purpose of strewing with flowers or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country during the late rebellion, and whose bodies now lie in almost every city, village, and hamlet church-yard in the land. In this observance no form of ceremony is prescribed, but posts and comrades will in their own way arrange such fitting services and testimonials of respect as circumstances may permit.
from Headquarters Grand Army of the Republic, General Orders No.11, Washington, D.C., May 5, 1868, by order of John A. Logan, Commander-in-Chief
2
No. 458-03
IMMEDIATE RELEASE
June 27, 2003
—————————————————
DoD Identifies Marine Casualty
The Department of Defense announced today that Lance Cpl. Gregory E. MacDonald, 29, of Washington, D.C., was killed on June 25 in Iraq. MacDonald was killed when the light armored vehicle he was traveling in rolled over.
MacDonald was assigned to Bravo Company, 4th Light Armored Reconnaissance Battalion, Frederick, Md.
No. 631-03
IMMEDIATE RELEASE
August 27, 2003
—————————————————
DoD Identifies Army Casualty
The Department of Defense announced today that Spc. Darryl T. Dent, 21, of Washington, D.C., was killed on August 26 in Southeast Arimadi, Iraq. Dent was in a convoy when an improvised explosive device struck his vehicle. Dent died of his injuries.
Dent was assigned to the 547th Transportation Company, U.S. Army National Guard, based in Washington, D.C.
This incident is under investigation.
No. 911-04
IMMEDIATE RELEASE
September 15, 2004
—————————————————
DoD Identifies Marine Casualty
The Department of Defense announced today the death of a Marine who was supporting Operation Iraqi Freedom.
LtCol. Kevin M. Shea, 38, of Washington, D.C., died Sept. 14 due to enemy action in Al Anbar Province, Iraq. He was assigned to 1st Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division, I Marine Expeditionary Force, Camp Pendleton, Calif.
For further information related to this Marine contact the Camp Pendleton Public Affairs Office at (760) 725-5044.
3
Today I think of Wilred Owen, greatest – and certainly my favorite – of the Great War poets. He was killed on November 4, 1918, just a week before the armistice. His Dulce et decorum est is for another day, though. Not today.
But this, from a letter he wrote in July 1918 to his friend Osbert Sitwell. He describes training the men under his command:
For 14 hours yesterday I was at work – teaching Christ to lift his cross by numbers, and how to adjust his crown; and not to imagine the thirst till after the last halt. I attended his Supper to see that there were not complaints; and inspected his feet that they should be worthy of nails. I see to it that he is dumb, and stands at attention before his accusers. With a piece of silver I buy him every day, and with maps I make him familiar with the topography of Golgotha.
Harold Owen and John Bell ed. Wilfred Owen: Collected Letters. London: Oxford University Press, 1967, letter to Osbert Sitwell – July 3, 1918, letter # 634, 562 (as quoted by Kevin Fielden The Church of England in the First World War (Masters thesis, East Tennessee State University, 2005))
This Memorial Day I thought of my dad’s first cousin, Paul Kennedy Bowman. He was Dad’s mother’s brother’s boy. I own a large family bible that was printed in the 1860s. It was handed down through the family, and used to be owned by Dad’s Uncle Paul, “Little Paul’s” father. The younger Paul’s mother, Genevive, inscribed the following in that bible, under “Deaths”:
Paul Kennedy Bowman, Jr., second lieutenant, Company F, 291st Infantry, 75th Division, Army of the United States, was killed in action of shrapnel from German mortar shell while on duty at advanced post, on the 15th of January, 1945, near Grand Halleaux, Belgium and was buried in the U.S. military cemetery at Henri Chappelle on January 22, 1945. Grave number 65, row 4, plot GGG.”
He almost made it home. I never met him, since he was killed 17 and a half years before I was born, but I included some photographs of him in the book that I produced about my father’s life, and more important than that, I asked Dad to tell me about him. When he and Dad were kids in South Carolina back in the 1930s, they used to chase wild goats around the sand dunes at the beach.
I hope to visit his grave some day and tell him that he is not forgotten.