Song of the South

Melissa Oyer

As I am writing this, the television mini series ‘Band of Brothers’ is playing in the other room.

I have never been much of a pro- or anti-war person; I tend to support whatever it takes to ensure my freedom.

And, having been brought up in a time in which war is televised on a daily basis, the sounds of guns and bombs have become almost commonplace as symbols of something happening many thousands of miles from me.

But, as I began to listen closely to the dialogue between characters, something struck a chord with me.

What if this war stuff is not just about guns and bombs and grenades, but more about freedom, autonomy and solidarity? And that the brotherhood that’s portrayed on the battlefields are just as sacred as those in every household across our nation.

My Grandpa Dave and his brother, my great-uncle Jay, both served in World War II.

Jay, who was only 18 years old, won a Purple Heart posthumously for giving his life during war.

He was killed in combat as he was among the first troopers to storm the beach in Normandy on that fated June 6 day, which will be forever known as D-Day.

My aunt Carol has the Purple Heart medal and as she was describing it to me, for the first time in my life, I am actually awestruck knowing that my family name will forever be engraved on a memorial somewhere where war stories are shared and remembered.

My grandfather never shared many stories with us as kids about his time spent overseas.

I don’t know whether it was because he didn’t want us to be sad or scared or more to help him keep the memory of his lost brother at bay.

One of the very last scenes of the series, one that will, or should move even the least emotional person around, the troops have just been told that the war as over.

Cpl. Joseph Liebgott, an American, translates a German general’s address to his troops, “Men, it’s been a long war, it’s been a tough war. You’ve fought bravely, proudly for your country. You’re a special group. You’ve found in one another a bond that exists only in combat, among brothers. You’ve shared foxholes, held each other in dire moments. You’ve seen death and suffered together. I’m proud to have served with each and every one of you. You all deserve long and happy lives in peace.”

This one statement impelled me to consider and reexamine the last 20 something years of my life.

For years, growing up as the only girl in a family of boys, I was picked on more times than I care to relive. I used to despise my brothers. I used to have thoughts of dire ways to torment them, but never had the courage to follow through.

No matter what was happening in my life, there was always something one of them would do that would make me wish I didn’t have a brother.

However, I can guarantee you that the men who fought those wars, hiding out in those foxholes, were more than grateful to have brothers.

Liebgott says these men shared foxholes and held one another in dire moments.

As a seven-year-old girl whose pigtails were being pulled, I would have thought the idea of sharing anything with my brothers would be nothing but laughable!

But now, as a grown-up living in these times, I can’t think of a better way to have my life saved than by a band of brothers.

But, by not just hearing Liebgott’s translation of the German general’s speech, but by actually listening to it, I had an epiphany—what if I never had brothers to defend my name?

What if I never had the opportunity to rely on my brothers to save my life?

What if brotherly love meant nothing to me?

On this Memorial Day, I am humbled to be a citizen of a nation whose soldiers will stop at nothing to defend freedoms and the rights of people they don’t even know.

So from now on, I encourage you to think about brothers. If you have them and you love them, then you know what I talking about.

If you don’t have brothers, think about how it would feel to know that your life was being defended by some stranger who signed on the same dotted line as you did, to undergo the same rigorous training as you and now must fight for not only theirs and yours, but for complete stranger’s freedom.

So I leave you with these final words from a prolific English writer, Aldous Huxley.

“The brotherhood of men does not imply their equality. Families have their fools and their men of genius, their black sheep and their saints, their worldly successes and their worldly failures. A man should treat his brothers lovingly and with justice, according to the deserts of each. But the deserts of every brother are not the same.”