By Jerry Hoem
A few years ago I made an effort to be sensitive each Memorial Day. I’ve resisted that temptation, but I’ll give it another try.
A funeral service at church recently closed with taps and a rifle salute outside that set the suburban neighborhood on edge. It reminded us of the sacrifices that freedom demands. It also brought to mind another experience, in Stuttgart Germany. We went to a memorial mountain, Birkenkopf–Birch Head– topped with World War II rubble and a cross of steel beams from the once-destroyed city.
Birkenskopf is over 1,600 feet high, formed from the beams and rubble from bombed-out stores, homes and factories piled all around as you drive to the top. Berlin has a similar mountain, Teufelsberg—Devil’s mountain—that contains even more rubble from that great conflict.
Birkenkopf set off a catch in my throat and a tear or two for the battered public and the hapless military forced to carry on through a conflict not of their making.
Memorial Day commemorates those who gave their lives to defend our country. I’d like to add just a brief thought for the rest of mankind who suffer through the terrible experiences of war.
God help us.