Herron: Venerating our veterans

Veterans Day. It is a day that originated when the guns of Europe fell silent in the sullen winter of 1918, when the nations of the continent agreed ­— at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month — to end hostilities and return peace. For the United States, involvement in the war had been short but costly with 205,690 American service members killed or wounded.

One year after the signing of the armistice, President Woodrow Wilson proclaimed Nov. 11, 1919 Armistice Day. It wouldn’t be until 1938 — the year before Europe once again tumbled into conflict — that Congress would declare Armistice Day a national holiday and “a day to be dedicated to the cause of world peace.”

In 1953, a store owner in Emporia, Kansas, by the name of Al King decided in the wake of two recent conflicts — World War II and the Korean War — that we should honor all veterans, not just those who fought in World War I. On Nov. 8, 1954, Congress officially decreed Veterans Day a national holiday.

It is a day on which we honor those who, with great intrepidity, have answered the call of duty throughout our history. Some enlisted, others were drafted. They fought for country and comrade, for family and freedom. Every man and woman who has answered the call to serve has joined a perennial line of tradition enduring since a time prior to the birth of our nation and extending into the future. It is a lineage inspiring of words such as those Gen. Douglas MacArthur once offered a class of West Point cadets. Should it ever be betrayed, he warned, “A million ghosts in olive drab, in brown khaki, in blue and gray, would rise from their white crosses, thundering those magic words: duty, honor, country.”

Veterans Day allows us to honor a heritage that includes John Paul Jones, “Father of the American Navy,” who, while withstanding heavy fire from the HMS Serapis during the Revolutionary War, announced valiantly, “I have not yet begun to fight!” The Serapis and its British commander would later surrender to Jones.

It is a day that reinforces within our memory the measure of allegiance that dwells within our soldiers, even in the bleakest of times. This devotion resided in a 54-year-old farmer from New York who wrote to his wife during the Civil War, “My country, glorious country, if we have only made it truly the land of the free … I count not my life dear unto me if only I can help that glorious cause along.” Shortly afterward, he would lose his life in the Battle of Plymouth. After the war ended, a 51-year-old New Jersey colonel wrote, “We can return to our homes with the proud satisfaction that it has been our privilege to live and take part in the struggle that has decided for all time to come that republics are not a failure.”

We need to remember the unyielding courage and devotion revealed during the cold and bitter winter after the Allies had snatched Europe from the grip of tyranny. When Gen. Anthony McAuliffe commanded the 101st Airborne during the Battle of the Bulge, German representatives approached him and demanded a surrender of McAuliffe’s garrison. The German commander threatened that if Americans refused to surrender, artillery would annihilate their forces. McAuliffe replied, “Nuts!” or, in plain English, “Go to hell.” The artillery barrage never materialized.

Those who earn the privilege of calling themselves American veterans often do so with admirable modesty. Not all of our veterans will be forever enthroned in history. For most, their lone admittance to immortality is a dignified name engraved in stone. Yet their contributions will be everlasting.

Staff Sgt. Mike Ranney, long after World War II had ended, wrote a letter to one of his commanders. “I cherish the memory,” he began, “of a question my grandson asked me the other day, when he said: ‘Grandpa, were you a hero in the war?’ Grandpa said, ‘No … But I served in a company of heroes.’” For those heroes, we have Veterans Day — an acknowledgement of the collective sacrifice, undaunted commitment and patriotism expressed by each American that has eschewed comfort and ease in order to answer the reveille of duty.

Many of the veterans who are no longer with us now rest serenely in the hallowed grounds of Arlington, Gettysburg, Colleville-sur-Mer or the other consecrated landscapes speckled with white crosses and pristine headstones. Whether it came on the field battle or amid the comforts of old age, when their day arrived and they crossed that final river, surely, “all the trumpets sounded for [them] on the other side.”

E-mail Mason at mph20@pitt.edu.