A Day to Honor Our Veterans

By Laura Moore

WWII Vet, John Bergmann speaking to students and fellow veterans seated before him

When United States Marine, Honor Flight Guardian and self-proclaimed "push up guy" Dave Schott stood before a gathering of veterans, active service men and women and students this past Wednesday, he shared an excerpt of a speech called "Peaches and Poundcake" given by Retired Army Major General Robert H. Scales at the Harry S. Truman Library & Museum in Independence, Missouri, on September 12, 2009.

"It’s sufficient to talk to each of you about things we have seen and kinship we have shared in the tough and heartless crucible of war. Some day, we will all join those who are serving so gallantly now and have preceded us on battlefields from Gettysburg to Wanat. We will gather inside a fire base to open a case of C-rations, with every box peaches and pound cake. We will join with a band of brothers to recount the experience of serving something greater than ourselves. I believe in my very soul that the Almighty reserves a corner of heaven, probably around a perpetual campfire, where someday we can meet and embrace all of the band of brothers throughout the ages, to tell our stories while envious bystanders watch and wonder how horrific and incendiary the crucible of violence must have been to bring such a disparate assemblage so close to the hand of God."

For those of us non-military folks who happened to be unaware of the significance of peaches and poundcake, Schott followed up the quote by explaining that after being in the field, getting the chance to indulge in that dessert was heavenly, that it was a favorite treat soldiers could share together. 

And so the image he painted with Major General Robert H. Scales words--one of a campfire where valiant men and women would gather around and tell stories, surrounded by every box there was of peaches and poundcake--smoldered in my mind for the rest of the day and into the night: an image of diverse faces, with diverse experiences, people with enormous passion, grace, bravery and conviction, people brought together by the cause of our country, the cause of defending our freedom.

And as it lived there, I couldn't help but paint the individual faces I had seen on the logs around the fire: Mike Knilans, Andy Frick, Michael Rutland, Crista Sturbois, John Bergmann, Milt Mapou, Dave Schott, Bill Richards. I could help but fill the air of my mind with their experiences, their advice, their answers, their transparent quest--despite all they have already given to us--to give us more, to share some of the hardest, most challenging moments they endured, to pass on to us their part in history, to allow us to bare witness to the violence that brought them all together, and the kinship they shared in the tough and heartless crucible of war.

I couldn't help but fill up with their stories.

Stories that often took years to emerge.

Upper Arlington resident and World War II veteran, John Bergmann, had to wait 43 years before he could speak. A mathematics student at the University Pittsburgh, Bergmann was recruited by the military to come to Washington D.C. and serve as a code-breaker, as one of the crucial minds who helped us win World War II. For 43 years his family believed the story he was forced to tell them--that he was a payroll clerk--even though he was central to the effort to break Japanese and German codes, codes that changed every 24 hours, giving the code breakers a mere day to solve the pattern before it changed once more. He interacted directly with Franklin Delano Roosevelt and Winston Churchill, but his experiences had to exist in his mind as secrets until 1985 when the British started telling their story, and Bergmann asked if it was finally okay to tell his.

A second World War II veteran, Milt Mapou, talked also about the repression of story. As a Pearl Harbor survivor, he said soldiers were not allowed to talk about the attack. They could send postcards home that said, "I am in the hospital, but I am well." They couldn't, however, give details, they couldn't say where they were or give specifics about their injuries. They couldn't process what they endured with the people they loved most.

As Mapou told his story about growing up overnight, Bergmann emphasized how important it was for people at home to write to the men and women serving us. 

"If you have family members overseas, send letters to them," Bergmann said, "I've seen grown men in a corner crying reading letters from home."

When U.S. Navy Veteran and Honor Flight Guardian, Bill Richards spoke during 8th period, he started off by saying, "What a gift to be in the same room with World War II vets. Get a picture to share with your kids."

He went on to talk about the power of Honor Flights, of giving veterans the opportunity to visit their memorials, to share their stories and to give them the homecoming they deserved. This is particularly significant for Vietnam veterans who returned to a country in protest, a country who didn't grant soldiers gratitude and respect for their sacrifices, sacrifices many of them never chose to make in the first place.

He talked about one man who wore his greens on the flight, and when Richards praised his effort to keep his uniform in such mint condition, the man said he didn't. When he got back from Vietnam he destroyed his uniform. The one he wore on his honor flight was brand new. And when he got off of that plane, he said, "today, I come home."

Toward the end of his speech, Richards said, "we all have a story to tell." 

And he encouraged us to listen. 

To these men and women and to extend ourselves to meet others. To come out and greet the honor flight participants, to clap for them, respect them, to give them the dessert of human connection.

From beginning to end, the Veterans Day Celebration, organized by teachers Betsy Sidor, Mark Boesch, Nate Palmer and the rest of the Upper Arlington High School Social Studies department, was a moving example of the power of telling our stories, of gathering around a figurative campfire and listening to the people who have come before us, the people who have made tremendous sacrifices, sacrifices that enable us to walk into our school, sit in our desks and learn.

While the soldiers didn't get a truck filled with peaches and poundcake, our students and staff tried to honor them with the best of their gifts. From performances by Ed and Gretchen Zunic's symphonic orchestra, to Eric Kaufmann's vocal ensemble, to George Edge's drum line, to contributions from Kim Wilson and her classes, Mark Boesch and Kelly Scott and the class officers, Kim Brown and student council students, Judy Miller who coordinated lunch with Rusty Bucket (Easton) General Manager Dave Redenbarger, and Karen D'Eramo and the UA Rise baristas who made coffee for the veterans to enjoy, Upper Arlington High School made every effort to welcome some of the greatest people any of us will ever meet.

Thank you, veterans, for all you've given and continue to give. You are an inspiration to us all.

WWII Veteran John Bergmann speaking to students