BruceSpeaks

A Date that will Live in Infamy

“Yesterday, December 7, 1941
—a date which will live in infamy—
the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked
by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.”

President Franklin D. Roosevelt

It’s a rare calendar coincidence that Pearl Harbor Day should fall on a Sunday, just as it did on that terrible day in 1941. My parents remembered it as an ordinary day, when America was slumbering. The Great Depression was beginning to fade from memory as the economy improved. The flames of war in Europe were raging, as Jewish smoke rose from Nazi crematoriums in extermination camps, yet the majority of Americans wanted no part in a war on foreign soil.
 
My father, along with millions of other young men and women across the nation, flooded military recruiting offices in the weeks following the Pearl attack, outraged, and seeking to enlist and “get even” with the “Japs.” Political correctness-that scourge of modern pop-culture that makes mice of men-was unknown in those days, and a sense of patriotism and duty to our great nation moved these men to leave farms, factories, careers, and families to battle evil.
 
Dad left his family farm in Missouri along with some of my uncles to fight Nazis and Japanese imperialists. Shipped to the South Pacific, he saw combat in the Marshall Islands and Guam. Although he returned home in one piece, the war left deep wounds upon his mind and soul, and as I was growing up, I remember his frequent visits to the veteran’s mental hospital as he tried to cope with all he’d seen and done. War is hell in the life of a combat veteran, sometimes for many years afterward. It’s hell on their families too, for I also carry some of my dad’s wounds in my own soul due to his inability to be an emotionally nurturing father to me. All is forgiven. I once wept because dad’s pain. I now weep for it.
 
Dad never spoke much about his war experiences. Like most WWII veterans, the memories were either too painful, or he just didn’t want to bring the horrors of war into our home and family. Men of his generation seldom revealed their inner feelings. I respected that, but later when I came home from service in Vietnam, I often thought it might have been healing for both of us to share our stories. We never really did. I had it infinitely easier than my father did, in that I never had to experience hand-to-hand combat that ended in death. Only last year did he share any of his war experiences with me, but his memories were mercifully dimmed by his long ninety-year journey.
 
Pearl Harbor triggered our entry into WWII, and a time of testing came upon what some have described as “the greatest generation.” With rare exceptions, these young men, along with dad, passed that test with flying colors. They stood for honor and country, and were fully convinced in the rightness of their cause. They liberated a world from the grip of evil tyranny, and when it was all over, they came home as heroes, not that they would ever admit it. “The real heroes fell on the beach at Iwo Jima, or on D-Day,” is what these guys usually say.  
 

Final Taps for my father… 

Early this morning I was awakened by a call I’d been expecting for some time, but dreaded to receive. My father, Julian R. Porter, passed away last night in a hospital in Missouri at the age of ninety-one. In his latter years, dad embraced Jesus Christ as his personal savior, and just two weeks ago I had the joy of praying with him for the last time. We wept together, and I encouraged him to embrace what was coming next, and that when he breathed his last in this world, the veil would be lifted and he would behold the face of Jesus. I like to think that my mom, who went before, met him today, and he is rejoicing in the presence of God.
 
As we remember Pearl Harbor Day, let us remember to honor that generation of young people who stood up in their time and did what was right and necessary. Let us honor their sacrifices in defense of our freedom, and hold those who remain among us a little closer as they slip away into eternity.
 
Let us also honor that same spirit of duty, honor, and country that yet burns in the breasts of countless young patriots today, who have answered the call of their country after the dastardly attack on our nation on 9-11-01. Our new enemies killed more of our people that dark day than even the Pearl Harbor attack sixty years before. Our soldiers today are battling a new evil-Islamo-fascism-and we must do all we can to support them in their mission. Make no mistake. We face a worse tyranny and enslavement at the hands of these medieval barbarians than we ever would have under a Hitler, Stalin, Mao, or Tojo.  Let us continually remind our leaders that the path of appeasement with evil is the path of defeat and death.
 
I love you dad. Thanks for defending us before we were even born, and in spite of the fact that we didn’t even understand what you did for so many years. Thanks for all the selfless years you endured a numbingly mindless job in a factory to put food on our table, clothes on our backs, and a roof over our heads. Thanks for doing the best you could, and loving my mom and my brother and sisters with your faithfulness in spite of your inner pain. Your tour of duty is finished. Mission accomplished. You’ve entered into eternal joy unspeakable and full of glory. Watch for me at the gates dad. I’m not too far behind.