Memorial Day Reflections

We dropped by All Souls Cemetery in Chardon Township, Ohio a couple days ago and brought a small American flag to place on my Dad's grave. Dad was a veteran of the US Navy during the World War II years. During that time he was a signalman aboard small ships, PC boats and SC boats. The Subchasers were wooden boats, called the Navy's "splinter fleet." They were small ships, not super fast, and not heavily armed. Dad spent most of the war in the South Pacific, including Australia, the Philippines, Borneo, and surrounding islands and seas. On the way to the South Pacific he stopped in Rio de Janiero. My brother Kevin has gotten hold of Dad's war records, but I have yet to study them. I doubt that they tell more than a fraction of the story of those years. Dad and his brothers Fran (or "Connie," as he was known to many), Jack, and Bill were all in the war, and all came home in one piece--at least physically (though Dad had shrapnel wounds and the little pieces of metal would periodically emerge throughout his life). My Dad and Bill had the least psychological damage, but Jack and Fran had problems that led to alcohol abuse and other troubles. Fran died at age 46 in 1965, and Jack died at age 49 in 1970.

On my mother's side, the Fitzpatrick side, her twin brothers, Dick and Don, went to war in Europe and North Africa. They too were psychologically damaged and fell prey to alcoholism. I think Fran, Jack, Dick, and Don were trying to self-medicate for PTSD and the psychological baggage of war. Back in 1945 and the years thereafter, there weren't many programs to help soldiers with PTSD, and so many of them suffered in silence. Like Fran and Jack, both Dick and Don died around age 50. Dick and Don were two of the most wonderful people that ever walked the earth.

Our family was deeply wounded again during the Vietnam era when my cousin, Tommy Fitzpatrick, died in combat in 1969. Tommy was only 21 years old, just 2 years out of Euclid High School. Tommy's death broke the hearts of his mother and father, Al and Catherine, and of his brothers and sister, aunts, uncles, and cousins. We still think often of Tommy and honor his great sacrifice.

At All Souls Cemetery we saw hundreds, nay thousands, of American flags placed on the graves of veterans. We noticed that there was no flag at Uncle Fran's grave, so we placed one there. These vets will never be forgotten.