Gunner Sgt. John Bennett, U.S. Marines Active Reserves, was the special speaker at Sallisaw’s Veterans Day service. His words were noted to bring tears to some eyes, and others ask that his words be reprinted for all to read.
LINDA COPELAND • TIMES
Observers said Bennett’s remarks brought tears to the eyes of those in the audience, and many asked that it be printed for all to read.
Following are Bennett’s remarks:
“This morning I placed a small flag at my father’s grave site, a Vietnam era veteran whose final resting place is located at Buffington Cemetery west of Sallisaw. After I placed the flag on his grave I stepped back and stood. During the moment of silence that followed, I said a small prayer.
I wondered how many of my fellow veterans or veterans family members have said prayers about their loved ones who were in harm’s way fighting for their country, or said prayers for the veterans who have given the ultimate sacrifice and never came home to their loved ones.
I wondered if these prayers weren’t very much the same, if not identical to the one I just said.
We celebrate Veterans Day on the anniversary of the armistice that ended World War I, the armistice that began on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. And I wonder, in fact, if all Americans’ prayers aren’t the same as those I mentioned a moment ago. The timing of this holiday is quite deliberate in terms of historical fact but somehow it always seems quite fitting to me that this day comes deep in autumn when the colors are muted and the days seem to invite contemplation.
We are gathered here in small town America. It is small patriotic towns like the ones here in Sequoyah County that have faithfully given their sons and daughters to fight for the very freedoms that we have all enjoyed for generations, from the Civil War to the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Public recognition and appreciation on this day for veterans is a central place and important, for all we can ever do for our heroes is remember them and remember what they did — and these memories are transmitted through our words.
Recently in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan I had several fellow Marines and close friends who had paid the ultimate sacrifice to this country in a time of war. They fought and died in a foreign country. Others were seriously wounded, like my friend and fellow Iraq veteran who is here with us today, Mr. Angus Bradford, a Purple Heart recipient. I said then that there is a special sadness that accompanies the death of a friend and fellow serviceman, for we’re never quite good enough to them — not really; we can’t be, because what they gave us is beyond our powers to repay. And so, when a serviceman dies, it’s a tear in the fabric, a hole in our heart,
and all we can do is remember.
It is, in a way, an odd thing to honor those who died in defense of our country, in defense of us, in wars far away. The imagination plays a trick on us. We see these soldiers in our mind as old and wise. We see them as something like the Founding Fathers, grave and gray haired. But most of them were boys when they died, and they gave up two lives — the one they were living and the one they would have lived. When they died, they gave up their chance to be husbands and fathers and grandfathers. They gave up their chance to be revered old men. They gave up everything for our country, for us. And all we can do is remember.
There’s always someone who is remembering for us. No matter what time of year it is or what time of day, there are always people who say a prayer, miss their father, brother, sister, mom, dad, or son, and think of what they were and how proud they are of them. These same families come to the cemeteries, leave a flag or a flower or a little rock on a headstone, or a personal belonging that meant so much to them, so their loved knows that they are still loved and appreciated. And they stop and bow their heads and communicate what they wished to communicate. They say, ‘Hello, Johnny,’ or ‘Hello, Bob’ or ‘Hello Dad or Grandpa.’ We still think of you. You’re still with us. We never got over you, and we pray for you still, and we’ll see you again. We’ll all meet again.’
In a way, they represent us, these relatives and friends, and they speak for us as they walk among the headstones and remember. It’s not so hard to summon memory, but it’s hard to recapture meaning.
And the living have a responsibility to remember the conditions that led to the wars in which our heroes died. Perhaps we can start by remembering this: that all of those who died for us and our country were, in one way or another, victims of a peace process that failed; victims of a decision to forget certain things; to forget, for instance, that the surest way to keep a peace going is to stay strong. Weakness, after all, is a temptation — it tempts the average person to assert themselves — but strength is a declaration that cannot be misunderstood. Strength is a condition that declares actions have consequences. Strength is a prudent warning to the belligerent that aggression need not go unanswered.
Peace fails when we forget what we stand for. It fails when we forget that our Republic is based on firm principles, principles that have real meaning, that with them, we are the last, best hope of man on Earth; without them, we’re little more than the crust of a continent. Peace also fails when we forget to bring to the bargaining table God’s first intellectual gift to man: common sense. Common sense gives us a realistic knowledge of human beings and how they think, how they live in the world, what motivates them. Common sense tells us that man has magic in him, but also clay. Common sense can tell the difference between right and wrong. Common sense forgives error, but it always recognizes it to be error first.
Each new day bursts with possibilities. And so, hope is realistic and despair a pointless little sin. And peace fails when we forget to pray to the source of all peace and life and happiness.
We’ll always remember, and we are surrounded and watched over today by the dead of our wars. We owe them a debt we can never repay. All we can do is remember them and what they did and why they had to be brave for us. All we can do is try to see that other young men never have to join them.
I think it most appropriate that we recall on this occasion, and on every other moment when we are faced with great responsibilities, the contribution and the sacrifice which so many men, women and their families have made in order to permit this country to now occupy its present position of responsibility and freedom, and in order to permit us to gather here together, today, in a free society.
I am honored and feel a humble appreciation to speak here today in the town that I grew up in and have so many fond memories. I want to thank the citizens of Sequoyah County, my friends, and my family who has made numerous sacrifices to stand by me and support me during two foreign wars.
To my fellow veterans and your families who have made such enormous sacrifices when your country needed you most — Thank you and God bless you!
I will leave you today with one final thought. I was asked by my 11-year-old daughter, ‘Dad, are you a veteran? What is a veteran?’
How could I possibly give the answer that was on my mind? After everything I did in a time of war, and the great price of freedom and all the death – how could I tell an 11-year-old that? So I summed it up the best I could…
A veteran is someone who, at one point in their life, wrote a blank check made payable to the United States of America for an amount of ‘Up to and including their life.’ That is honor, and that…is a veteran.
Thank you, and God bless you all. Happy Veterans Day.”
