thedrifter
05-31-07, 07:15 AM
Loss of 3 hits home on holiday
Prompts recognition of war's human cost
By Peter Schworm, Globe Staff | May 31, 2007
Just over three weeks ago, the Rev. Tom Lopes led a church in prayer for Sergeant William J. Callahan of Easton, who died in Iraq without ever seeing his newborn son. Hundreds came to grieve, pay their respects, and remember a devout man whose family described as born to be a Marine.
As he prepared for Monday's Memorial Day services, Lopes again searched for words that might comfort a close-knit town still struggling to come to terms with the loss of a native son, and with a war that suddenly felt terribly close to home.
"Before, I knew of the war," he said. "But when you have a death in the town, in the parish, it makes it real."
On Monday, Easton, Brockton, and Rockland were among the towns whose Memorial Day services were marked by a deep, almost weary sadness, as the three towns again unfurled their flags and blinked back tears to honor young men who died in military service this month.
It had been less than two weeks since thousands in Brockton lined streets and filled churches to mourn Army Captain Anthony Palermo Jr., a 26-year-old killed in Iraq last month. And it had been less than three weeks since Rockland residents honored Lance Corporal Walter K. O'Haire, slain in combat just days before his 21st birthday.
While the remembrances did not focus on the three native sons, their loss echoed through the services like a bagpipe's strain. Some said it seemed all too soon be mourning casualties again but that it also seemed the show of appreciation for their ultimate sacrifice was not nearly enough.
Paul Studenski, a former Brockton police chief, remembered Palermo when he was in the J unior ROTC at Brockton High School. He marched straight and stood proud and tall, with a true military bearing, he recalled.
At Monday's service in front of the Brockton War Memorial building, he watched the new crop of JROTC members stand and salute with a proud regret.
"It breaks your heart, losing so many young people," said Studenski. "I remember him so well, and it makes you wonder, what's going to happen to these people who will take their place?"
In many ways, the ceremonies looked like any other Memorial Day. Children chased each other and pleaded for ice cream, teenagers marched in school bands, and parents hoisted their children on their shoulders to see it all pass by. Old veterans stood at attention to the "Marines' Hymn" and "Taps. "
But just beneath the surface was, it seemed, a profound sadness tempered by intense pride. Veterans held their salutes a second longer. Cemeteries were filled with families and newly planted flags. Among the crowds were people experiencing the losses of war as Memorial Day celebrations went on around them.
Daryl Morton showed little emotion as he watched the Brockton ceremony, his shoulder in a sling from a bullet wound sustained six months ago outside Fallujah. Since he has been home, most days are hard, he said, but Memorial Day sharpened the memories of his time in Iraq and his comrades still fighting there.
"It's been tough. But after a while, you get used to it."
It was also a difficult day for Clifford Boulier, 73. As he staked out a spot to watch the Rockland parade, Boulier said he couldn't be prouder of his nephew, a Navy Seal now on leave from serving in Iraq. But the memorials -- first for O'Haire, then for all those who died in war -- made him wonder whether it's worth it.
"It's just so sad," he said. "God bless us is all I can say."
Across the street, Mark Everett, a 45-year-old former Marine, said he believed strongly in the country's mission in Iraq. By taking the battle to the radical Islamists bent on our destruction, he said, the military was preventing terrorist attacks and preserving the country's way of life.
"The way we live has a cost, and the color of that cost is red," he said.
But for Elizabeth Taylor of Weymouth, preparing to watch her grandchildren in the Rockland parade, political feelings about the war were beside the point. The day before, at Sunday Mass, she cried during "America the Beautiful, " and prayed for the troops and their families. It's hard to understand, she said, why so many soldiers have to die so far from home.
"I don't think Americans raised their sons and daughters for this," she said.
In Brockton, where hundreds attended a solemn ceremony, James Drew, 45, shook his head at a war he said makes little sense.
"We're just dying over there, only dying," he said.
Dying, yes, but for a worthy cause, said Victor Madden, 61, who attended the service in Easton. "You have to put your faith and trust in what they're doing," he said. "It's hard at times, but you have to."
Jack Desmond, 63, agreed the losses are hard to bear.
"Today hits a little harder because he was a local kid," he said, referring to Callahan, "and just a kid, too."
Peter Schworm can be reached at schworm@globe.com.
Ellie
Prompts recognition of war's human cost
By Peter Schworm, Globe Staff | May 31, 2007
Just over three weeks ago, the Rev. Tom Lopes led a church in prayer for Sergeant William J. Callahan of Easton, who died in Iraq without ever seeing his newborn son. Hundreds came to grieve, pay their respects, and remember a devout man whose family described as born to be a Marine.
As he prepared for Monday's Memorial Day services, Lopes again searched for words that might comfort a close-knit town still struggling to come to terms with the loss of a native son, and with a war that suddenly felt terribly close to home.
"Before, I knew of the war," he said. "But when you have a death in the town, in the parish, it makes it real."
On Monday, Easton, Brockton, and Rockland were among the towns whose Memorial Day services were marked by a deep, almost weary sadness, as the three towns again unfurled their flags and blinked back tears to honor young men who died in military service this month.
It had been less than two weeks since thousands in Brockton lined streets and filled churches to mourn Army Captain Anthony Palermo Jr., a 26-year-old killed in Iraq last month. And it had been less than three weeks since Rockland residents honored Lance Corporal Walter K. O'Haire, slain in combat just days before his 21st birthday.
While the remembrances did not focus on the three native sons, their loss echoed through the services like a bagpipe's strain. Some said it seemed all too soon be mourning casualties again but that it also seemed the show of appreciation for their ultimate sacrifice was not nearly enough.
Paul Studenski, a former Brockton police chief, remembered Palermo when he was in the J unior ROTC at Brockton High School. He marched straight and stood proud and tall, with a true military bearing, he recalled.
At Monday's service in front of the Brockton War Memorial building, he watched the new crop of JROTC members stand and salute with a proud regret.
"It breaks your heart, losing so many young people," said Studenski. "I remember him so well, and it makes you wonder, what's going to happen to these people who will take their place?"
In many ways, the ceremonies looked like any other Memorial Day. Children chased each other and pleaded for ice cream, teenagers marched in school bands, and parents hoisted their children on their shoulders to see it all pass by. Old veterans stood at attention to the "Marines' Hymn" and "Taps. "
But just beneath the surface was, it seemed, a profound sadness tempered by intense pride. Veterans held their salutes a second longer. Cemeteries were filled with families and newly planted flags. Among the crowds were people experiencing the losses of war as Memorial Day celebrations went on around them.
Daryl Morton showed little emotion as he watched the Brockton ceremony, his shoulder in a sling from a bullet wound sustained six months ago outside Fallujah. Since he has been home, most days are hard, he said, but Memorial Day sharpened the memories of his time in Iraq and his comrades still fighting there.
"It's been tough. But after a while, you get used to it."
It was also a difficult day for Clifford Boulier, 73. As he staked out a spot to watch the Rockland parade, Boulier said he couldn't be prouder of his nephew, a Navy Seal now on leave from serving in Iraq. But the memorials -- first for O'Haire, then for all those who died in war -- made him wonder whether it's worth it.
"It's just so sad," he said. "God bless us is all I can say."
Across the street, Mark Everett, a 45-year-old former Marine, said he believed strongly in the country's mission in Iraq. By taking the battle to the radical Islamists bent on our destruction, he said, the military was preventing terrorist attacks and preserving the country's way of life.
"The way we live has a cost, and the color of that cost is red," he said.
But for Elizabeth Taylor of Weymouth, preparing to watch her grandchildren in the Rockland parade, political feelings about the war were beside the point. The day before, at Sunday Mass, she cried during "America the Beautiful, " and prayed for the troops and their families. It's hard to understand, she said, why so many soldiers have to die so far from home.
"I don't think Americans raised their sons and daughters for this," she said.
In Brockton, where hundreds attended a solemn ceremony, James Drew, 45, shook his head at a war he said makes little sense.
"We're just dying over there, only dying," he said.
Dying, yes, but for a worthy cause, said Victor Madden, 61, who attended the service in Easton. "You have to put your faith and trust in what they're doing," he said. "It's hard at times, but you have to."
Jack Desmond, 63, agreed the losses are hard to bear.
"Today hits a little harder because he was a local kid," he said, referring to Callahan, "and just a kid, too."
Peter Schworm can be reached at schworm@globe.com.
Ellie