I think of William

Each year on Memorial Day I think of William. He was my mother's grandfather. His discharge from the Union Army hangs in a frame on the wall of my office.

His most notable experience as a soldier was in the battle of Petersburg. Many of his comrades were killed, wounded, or maimed, in that famous battle in the crater. If you know the story you know how the miners tunneled into the crater below the defensive position of the rebels. You also know how so many of the northern army were slaughtered, shot like fish in a barrel. He was in the midst of that experience.

On the one hand he was lucky in that he was not himself shot. On the other hand he was so severely damaged mentally, through the experience, that his life was never the same as before his military service.

Of course I don't know anything about it firsthand. But the family lore is definite and specific. In 1890 he bought the home in Holland Township where he and his wife had their seven children. The property was a very small farm property. It was not nearly adequate to support the seven children. Even though only five of them survived, t still meant that several had to leave and live their lives elsewhere.

My mother's father, my grandfather, was the 7^th of their seven children. As the youngest, and one with some carpentry skill, he left the family home to make his fortune. Ultimately the property where my grandfather started his young life became the property of my mother. It eventually became a property of my brother and myself. During that ownership I ended up buying my brother's interest in the little farm.

I'm told that I learned to walk as a baby on that property.

It was far enough away from what people thought the dangers of the Second World War presented that it was considered a safe retreat during that time. My family, that is my mother, father, brother, and cousin who lived with us, spent many a weekend, and sometimes a week or two of summer vacation time, on that property. There was no well water. There was a cistern. A cistern is a system that collected rainwater from the roof and directed it through downspouts into a hole in the ground lined with concrete and stone. When we spent time at the property we brought our drinking water in several gallon containers.

There was no electricity. We used candles and kerosene lanterns as our source of light in the evening. We used coal or kerosene as fuel for heat or to cook. We had actual ice in an ice box to keep food cold. There was no bathroom. We had an outhouse 35 feet from the back door. It was considered "deluxe" because there were two separate holes.

Today we talk about artificial intelligence, we get our information through the Internet, we communicate by tiny telephones in our pockets or through wristwatch radios, a Dick Tracy dream from the 40s. It's amazing what changes have taken place.

Except for several cousins, great grandfather William is the only member of the family that I know of who was shot at in a war situation. Although in college I joined the Air Force ROTC, my service experience never went beyond that. Although I got to do some flying with the captain in our ROTC wing, and although I got to shoot as one of twelve members of our Air Force ROTC rifle team, I never faced being shot at.

On this Memorial Day I think of the people who went to war to preserve our way of life. I think of the sacrifices so many of them, and their families made. I have friends from the Second World War, from the Korean War, and from Vietnam. Classmates in law school flew in Korea and flew for SAC.

I thank them all, as well as William, for their, and for his service.