Veterans Day

Today is Veterans’ Day, the day we set aside to remember all of those who died in wars for our country. From patriotism.org:

At 5 A.M. on Monday, November 11, 1918 the Germans signed the Armistice, an order was issued for all firing to cease; so the hostilities of the First World War ended. This day began with the laying down of arms, blowing of whistles, impromptu parades, closing of places of business. All over the globe there were many demonstrations; no doubt the world has never before witnessed such rejoicing.

In November of 1919, President Woodrow Wilson issued his Armistice Day proclamation. The last paragraph set the tone for future observances:

To us in America, the reflections of Armistice Day will be filled with solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country’s service and with gratitude for the victory, both because of the thing from which it has freed us and because of the opportunity it has given America to show her sympathy with peace and justice in the councils of the nation.

In 1927 Congress issued a resolution requesting President Calvin Coolidge to issue a proclamation calling upon officials to display the Flag of the United States on all government buildings on November 11, and inviting the people to observe the day in schools and churches…But it was not until 1938 that Congress passed a bill that each November 11 “shall be dedicated to the cause of world peace and …hereafter celebrated and known as Armistice Day.”

That same year President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed a bill making the day a legal holiday in the District of Columbia. For sixteen years the United States formally observed Armistice Day, with impressive ceremonies at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, where the Chief Executive or his representative placed a wreath. In many other communities, the American Legion was in charge of the observance, which included parades and religious services. At 11 A.M. all traffic stopped, in tribute to the dead, then volleys were fired and taps sounded.

After World War II, there were many new veterans who had little or no association with World War I. The word, “armistice,” means simply a truce; therefore as years passed, the significance of the name of this holiday changed. Leaders of Veterans’ groups decided to try to correct this and make November 11 the time to honor all who had fought in various American wars, not just in World War I.

In Emporia, Kansas, on November 11, 1953, instead of an Armistice Day program, there was a Veterans’ Day observance. Ed Rees, of Emporia, was so impressed that he introduced a bill into the House to change the name to Veterans’ Day. After this passed, Mr. Rees wrote to all state governors and asked for their approval and cooperation in observing the changed holiday. The name was changed to Veterans’ Day by Act of Congress on May 24, 1954. In October of that year, President Eisenhower called on all citizens to observe the day by remembering the sacrifices of all those who fought so gallantly, and through rededication to the task of promoting an enduring peace. The President referred to the change of name to Veterans’ Day in honor of the servicemen of all America’s wars.

At first I was thinking of honoring my Great Grandfather Percy, who fought in World War I, in Russia, but then I happily realized that he didn’t die there. Thankfully no relatives who died in World War II, Korea, Viet Nam, or the Gulf War. Pretty lucky family, I guess, or maybe we just don’t tend to join the armed forces like some families do.

For the last relative that I am sure died in service of his country, I’ll go back to John Nevins Mace, who died in the Civil War. John was born and raised in Amherst, New Hampshire. He married shortly before going to war, and never even learned that his wife, Sarah Angelina (called Angie) was pregnant. He died of Typhoid fever in Washington DC, without ever seeing battle. With him in his regiment was Charles Nevins Parkhurst, Angie’s brother, who also died of Typhoid fever, just a few weeks before John. If this story isn’t sad enough at this point, I’ll add that Angie died just a few years later, at the age of 29, and her daughter was raised by her grandmother, great-grandmother (who was born during the Revolutionary War), and aunts and uncles. Of course, the story has an OK ending, since that child, Etta, grew up, fell in love, got married, and became my great-great-grandmother.

Thank you to John and Charles, and all of the other fallen soldiers throughout history, for making this sacrifice in service to your country.