|
Rest In Peace
Many
letters have come to me since my trip to Europe, with the ever appealing
question, "What shall 1 do about the earthly remains of my son, brother,
or husband? Shall I leave him in the U. S. Military Cemeteries in Europe
or shall I bring him back to his own native land?"
I was confronted with the same
question and I have answered it satisfactory, leaving my mind without
doubt or uncertainty, but I traveled over 8000 miles to answer it. Now,
can I help you? I will in no way attempt to tell you what to do, nor
tell you the answer to your problems, that much comes from your own
heart, end the only thing I can do, will be to tell you how I felt, how
I come, how I saw and how I answered my problems.
After many months of planning my trip
to Europe, on May 24, at exactly 11:15 P.M. my plane roared down the
runaway at Municipal Air Port, Chicago, lifted lightly into the air and
I was off for Europe!
The story of my flight will have to
come in a different chapter for this is only the story of my decision,
whether I should or should not bring my son’s body home.
The minute I landed on foreign soil, I
had the feeling I was not far from home, the sun rose in glorious
splendor each morning and set with exalted admiration each evening,
people talked, and laughed, the birds sang, it rained, and the sun
shined, and it came night and day every 24 hours. Could I be far away
from all the things I had known? For surely this was God's Country too
for I saw homes where love dwelt and Churches with ever so high
steeples, cities with the same bustle of activities and quiet little
villages and farms.
Then I felt too, all the time I was in
Europe, that I must soon hurry home, because that was where Wendell (my
son) was, I was so sure of it, because "home" was ever so "dear" to him
and his spirit must of fled to his home, to ever surround it with his
intense love, so my feeling was ’'He's home" no matter where his body
rests.
The day I was privileged to make the
pilgrimage to my son's grave was a lovely spring day in May. The fields
were a perfect setting with green grass and poppies, daisies and blue
flowers in bloom, the cemetery was serenely quiet and I was composed in
mind, and not the least bit disturbed as I thought I might be. Young
Corporal Walker, walked with me to my son’s grave. He was just a little
bit on the uneasy side, I suppose, because one never knows how the awe
of seeing the grave of one that was very dear will effect the "Mother".
Those must of been the thoughts that filled his mind at the time. I too,
wanted to be considerate of his feelings because this War had not been
any "picnic" to him either.
We found his grave and stood a moment
in silent prayer at the side of the last resting place of my son. I
could hardly believe that beneath this White Cross laid the earthly
remains of Wendell. To my mind came this thought "In the sweet of thy
face thou 6hslt eat breed, till thou return unto the ground, for dust
thou art end unto dust thou shalt return." Then too, I knew there "was
no death, for I believe in the immortality of the soul and his Spirit
lived in my heart forever."
Then and only then, did I know that it
made no difference where the remains rest, the feeling would be the
same. My boy had parted from this life to a better one, and his grave
was only a marking place, in Military care, on a field of HONOR, and
part of Europe was forever America to me.
And so I make my statement, "I am content, end I shall leave my eon
where he now lies."
Written by Gertrude Sedam after
visiting her son Wendell's grave in Henri Chapelle, Belgium. The story
of how she determined NOT to bring her son home to the USA was later
published in the Gold Star newsletter.
View
original PDF file
Permission by Diana L. Carlson
|
