Planting Trees Whose Shade They’ll Never See: A War and Memorial Day Reflection

A Japanese flowering cherry blooms in Section 12, near the Memorial Amphitheater, in Arlington National Cemetery, April 15, 2016, in Arlington, Va. The cemetery’s 624 acres are a unique blend of formal and informal landscapes, dotted with more than 8,600 native and exotic trees. (U.S. Army photo by Rachel Larue/Arlington National Cemetery/released)

Indian proverb: “Blessed is he who plants trees under whose shade he will never sit.” Also, in 1868 Reverend Reuben Smith published a religious essay that mentioned fruit instead of shade: “Let the old men plant trees, though they may never expect to eat the fruit of them.”

But there are yet MORE Blessed men who have lived. Those who gave their lives to offer the peace, prosperity and Liberty, which they will never experience again, to future generations. Men who put on uniforms and went to war, never knowing if they would return home.

My Father in Law was one such man. He came home. His brother was as well, he came home, but not completely, and died young of depression and alcoholism. They were Tank Sergeant and paratrooper, respectively, in Korea. I don’t know what they saw. They, like most men of their generation, did not speak of their war experiences. They just got on with life. Never wanting to burden the generation they fought to protect, with the horrors seen and inflicted to bring about that protection.

Walk any cemetery in this country and you will find their stones. Men who came home and raised families in the liberty they fought to provide. In those same cemeteries and in National cemeteries all around the country, you will find those who came home in the saddest fashion. Those who gave that last moment of life, that we might be free.

One such hero, lost for 70 years, Cpl Henry Helms came home recently. Through the negotiations to return remains and DNA, his remains were found. His family finally able to bury the 24 year old who lost his life and whose body had not been found by the US. He has finally come home.

There have been heroes who lived, more who did not. Heroes who came home to parades, some who came home to abuse, some who came home to depression. And some who came home and once again, began giving back.

My Father in Law became a policeman for a while, then a builder. He never forgot Korea but he never talked about it. Tucked up on a shelf in a closet was a set of the traditional Korean Ladies Hanbok. There it stayed, carefully folded and forgotten by the rest of the family until he passed. I have it now.

One other thing he did, when he lost his older brother, was take care of his nephews and niece. That is what brothers do. He made certain that his brother’s family enjoyed the blessings of liberty fought and died for.

My FIL lost a lot of friends in the mountains of Korea. He never spoke of them. I have their pictures. I wish I could find their families and share these picture with them. perhaps their families have pictures of my Father in law (he never had himself in these pictures, he knew what he looks like)

With all we face today, we are blessed. We are blessed over and over again by people like my Father in law and those who manned tanks beside him, his brother who jumped out of planes, some never even making it to the ground, much less home. Those like Cpl Helms, who died in the early days of the war and took 70 years to make it home. We are blessed. Not because they died, but as General Patton said, because they lived.

They did not ask for war but when it came, like the man who plants a tree, they went. They fought. And they planted a little bit of Liberty in other countries, too. Liberty they might never see again, while giving more life to the tree of liberty back home. A tree whose shade they might not enjoy and whose fruit they might not eat, but they knew, their children would.

We should be thankful for their lives. For their families who raised them to sacrifice, who raised them to know there WERE things bigger than themselves and who mourned them when they did not return. We are thankful that they lived.