This is Line Drive Softball Managing Editor Brentt Eads… several years ago when I was at the first website I started covering softball, Full Count Softball, I took a break from the sport and on-field coverage to write about Memorial Day.
In this first-person piece, I expressed my appreciation for those who’ve served on behalf of our country, including my father Jack Eads, and how it took my living in Europe to really appreciate the scope of what millions have done to protect our freedoms.
I was surprised and humbled at the response my few thoughts generated, especially by veterans who served in the military including those going all the back to World War II and earlier, who made the ultimate sacrifice: laying down their lives on foreign soil to protect our lands at home.
It’s become a tradition for me to rerun this article to hopefully and adequately pay tribute to all those great men and women who have served our country (and those that currently are).
I dedicate this column to them and to my dad, who I greatly miss even 19 years after his passing…
*****
On this Memorial Day, we pause to take a few moments to remember and pay homage to those who’ve served our country, especially those we gave up their futures to protect ours.
My father had nightmares from his war experiences and would rarely talk about his time in Korea.
My heritage includes ancestors who fought as far back as the Revolutionary War, but my greatest respect for veterans began with my first and greatest hero… my Dad, Jack Eads.
My appreciation for his military service, however, wasn’t fully realized until I lived in Europe for nearly two years and heard first-hand accounts of the horrors of war.
I wondered… did my father experience this? If so, he kept it to himself and my respect and appreciation for what he and all those who defend our nation go through was magnified.
For me, it started with my father, who served in the Korean War.
We didn’t talk about his experiences much—like many who’ve seen combat, he wouldn’t bring it up much. Sometimes as a young boy I would find photos of him in his Army fatigues over in Korea and see a photo that would demand questions, like him standing next to a skull stuck on a pole.
He said the Korean army put that there because it scared superstitious locals; I thought it was ghoulish and maybe that was why I didn’t ask too many questions.
I do remember my mom telling me stories of my dad jumping up in the middle of the night on their bed and running in place like a bat out of hell. He would be sleep-dreaming and would be terrified, experiences from being in Korea where he was being shot at or under attack from mortar fire.
After my dad died in 2005, my appreciation for what he did grew as I spoke to other veterans about their experiences.
My mom would laugh it off and we would be amused picturing Dad running in place on the bed in his underwear, but I think my mom, me and my two brothers, Greg and Blaine, were all trying to not think too hard about what that must have been like.
Blaine wrote me a while back with some details I didn’t know.
“You know,” he began, “we’ll never know the things Dad had to do, the horrific things he saw and the hell that he went through,” he began.
“I remember Mom told me how sick he was when he returned from Korea with parasites and that he was very sick for a long time. I remember in the night, asleep, Dad would jump out of bed and hit the floor on his knees as if he was taking cover.”
“He would fight, throw elbows with someone… he once pulled the curtains down from the windows and yelled for men that weren’t there. The things he endured we’ll never understand.”
At my father’s graveside burial, I was so proud that he got a 21-gun salute and his coffin was wrapped in a United States flag.
When his casket was being lowered into the ground, I respectfully tossed in one of the used shell casings as a tribute to him and his military service.
I got to see first-hand some powerful stuff too.
In the 1980’s I lived in France, Belgium and Luxembourg for nearly two years as a missionary for my church.
I spent most of my time there in France and the first city I lived in was Calais, which is the closest city in France to England; in fact, on very clear days you can see the white cliffs of Dover.
This was near where the Normandy Invasion happened – think “Saving Private Ryan”—and the stories I heard were surreal.
Why?
It was the 40th anniversary of the city being liberated by the American Soldiers and even decades later “Les Belges” (the Belgians) remembered.
… And then there was Luxembourg.
The infamous Battle of the Bulge—which was the largest and bloodiest battle fought by the U.S. troops in World War II—was in that European country, more specifically between Belgium and Luxembourg, and included fighting in the wintry snow in bulky, British-provided snowsuits.
Like New York, New York, the city of Luxembourg is the hub of the country of Luxembourg which is so small that you can drive 15 minutes east and be in Germany, 20 minutes south and be in France, head west for a ways and you’re in Belgium and drive north for an hour or so and you’re in Holland.
The whole country is probably smaller than the city of Los Angeles, but it is ripe with military history… especially from World War II. Locals would tell of seeing the American tanks roll through the city when it was freed by the U.S. Army led by a general named George S. Patton.
Out in the countryside is the Luxembourg American Cemetery and Visitor’s Center covering 50 acres commemorating the key battles fought in WWII, the Battle of the Bulge (which was made into a popular Hollywood movie in 1965).
Please watch this short video of the cemetery:
I remember seeing exhibits at the Visitor’s Center showing the white snowsuits worn by soldiers to be hidden in the backdrop of the snow. Imagine carrying a weapon, backpack and trudging through snow while trying to stay alive.
And I remember seeing a manual showing step by step how to silently come up from behind the enemy and slit his throat.
Whoa.
You can’t help but feel emotional seeing the thousands of white crosses memorializing those who died in battle for our freedoms, like the many shown below near where the Normandy Invasion took place in WWII, representing more than 5,000 of the 9,388 American soldiers and pilots who died:
The lasting memory I’ll have from my experience over there, though, is seeing the white crosses for those killed in battle. The markers seemingly went on forever and it was a reverent, sad, but inspiring panorama.
So many young men and women’s dreams dashed in defense of freedoms we take for granted every day. These were our sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, who died that our generation—and subsequent ones—would have a future.
I’m forever grateful for men like my father and those who we never got to know. I have distant uncles in my family tree who were killed in battle. I have ancestors that fought in wars as far back as the Civil War and even the American Revolution.
One current military serviceman who appreciates today’s annual May holiday, even though he’s halfway around the world, is Michael Doermann, a 30-year-old Navy lieutenant who is married with a four-month child.
Lt. Doermann is currently serving in Bahrain, a Middle Eastern country in the Persian Gulf.
“Memorial Day is a special time for us to remember those special few who gave the ultimate effort to preserve our freedoms,” he begins, “those who sacrificed their lives so that we can enjoy the freedoms we are so extremely blessed to be able to enjoy thanks to those special few.”
Talk to Michael and you quickly understand the dedication it takes to do his job… and how much he appreciates those who have served—and who currently serve—as he does.
“I’m grateful to those who sacrifice their time with loved ones,” the California native continues. “Those who have gone before, those who serve at my side, and those who will serve in years to come. These are unselfish individuals who make great sacrifices to serve, even to the point of being willing to give up their lives. It is important to honor that.”
He concludes by revealing his respect for others who, like he does, defends the rights of his fellow Americans and those across the world.
“I have been blessed to serve with so many people who know the pain of being away from loved ones on special days,” he says frankly.
“Some of them only serve as long as their contract requires them to, but others willingly sign up to continue serving.”
Lt. Doermann serves knowing that he comes from a long line of men and women who proceeded him and he has reverence for those who gave their lives or came home, like my father Jack Eads, with the scars of war forever on them.
“Having the opportunity to serve with people like that has helped me to appreciate the sacrifices of those who give the ultimate sacrifice and the sacrifices of their families who survive them even more.”
I am fortunate that I was in foreign lands trying to spread a message of love and peace as a missionary and will forever be appreciative to those who tasted the hell of war and for their willingness to do so.
I came back to the United States after my time abroad even more proud of our country and our people, for our willingness to spill our blood for those in distant lands because we believe in the basic freedoms that all should have.
On this Memorial Day—and, really, every chance we get—we should reflect on how fortunate and blessed we all are because we’re standing on the shoulders of great Americans who went before us, many of whom went to strange lands as mere teenagers and never came back to the luxuries we take for granted.
Thanks, Dad, and the millions like you who endured nightmarish experiences, so my family and I don’t have to.
— Brentt Eads/Line Drive Softball
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