Posted on 05/29/2005 11:42:04 AM PDT by Diana in Wisconsin
"Look at this one, Dad. It doesn't look like anyone is taking care of it."
Daniel was right. The flat marker was nearly covered with grass. My 9-year-old son carefully pulled back the sod to expose the edges of the bronze plate. He gently brushed away pine needles and soil and read aloud:
"John P. Verner. Sergeant. 127 Infantry. World War I. That was fought in France, wasn't it, Dad?"
This was our fourth Memorial Day celebration together - just the two of us, visiting Roselawn Memorial Park in Monona on this special holiday. Daniel looks forward to this day every year - walking among the rows of graves, many marked with American flags and brightened by colorful bouquets. Reciting the names and regiments, talking about the battles and wars. What better place to discuss D- Day and the Holocaust, oppression and slavery?
With the significance of Memorial Day dwindling in the American consciousness, especially among children, I wanted Daniel to understand what this day was about. Why men and women go to war, why they die for a cause. The courage and hardship and endurance it takes. The brutality. The sacrifice.
There were no flowers beside John Verner's marker. It appeared that no family members were taking care of his grave. We guessed that this soldier might be lonely. Perhaps his family had moved away. Perhaps there was no one left to say "thank you."
We soon found another veteran whose grave was unadorned: "Douglas D. Crowe. New York. Captain. Vietnam. 1939-1968." Killed in action in Vietnam. A man from New York, buried in Wisconsin. And also alone on this day.
"That's sort of sad," said Daniel.
"Yes, it is," I said.
The warm sunlight slanted through the trees. Quiet groups of people moved through the cemetery, stooping down to decorate a grave, or standing in silent remembrance.
"You know, it doesn't have to be that way," I said.
"What do you mean?" asked Daniel.
"Let's get to know Capt. Crowe and Sgt. Verner. Let's learn about their lives. Maybe we can find their families. Then we'll come back next year and put flowers on their graves."
"Yeah," said Daniel. "We'll come back as their friends."
We left the cemetery enthusiastic about our mission - to learn more about these men, their conflicts, and the American history they made.
A good start
The initial step in our research: Calling the Wisconsin Veterans Museum, which kindly mailed out the first information we received about our two soldiers. John P. Verner was born in Sweden and served in the U.S. Army as a mechanic during World War I. When the war started he was 38 - too old to be drafted. The file card showed that his eyes were blue, his hair brown, and he stood 5-foot-8. The fact that he left his wife and children to voluntarily fight in Europe suggests he was a patriotic man.
Douglas D. Crowe was born in 1939 in Pittsburgh. After being in the ROTC and graduating from Cornell University in New York, he joined the U.S. Army and was trained in special operations. He helped rescue U.S. prisoners of war in Vietnam. The museum also supplied an e-mail address for a distant relative in Australia, who had posted a tribute about Crowe on the online version of the Vietnam Memorial.
This was a good start, but we wanted more. I was hoping the National Archives would furnish the two men's military service records, but a search was unsuccessful. (Even though ours didn't work out, always try a search, which is free; if the file is located there is a $17 copying fee.)
The next step? Obituaries. We had their dates of death. We went to the state archives and found the rolls of microfilm for the newspapers of the time. Daniel scrolled through them, page by page. There were some other discoveries along the way: "Hey, Dad," said Daniel. "Shoes only cost five bucks back in 1954!"
Discovered lives Then, suddenly, there he was in a dark photograph: John P. Verner. Fascinated, we read his brief life story. He was a bugler. He sang in two choirs and was a member of the Masonic Lodge. We also discovered his wife's maiden name was Cich.
Daniel switched rolls.
After a short time we found Douglas D. Crowe, looking distinguished in his Army uniform. His mother's maiden name was Tough; she had lived in Madison. After she married John Crowe the couple moved to Pittsburgh, and then on to Massachusetts, where Doug was raised.
Daniel had already searched the phone book for "Verner" (none) and "Crowe" (too many). Back to the phone book. No Toughs. "That's Tough luck, Dad," said Daniel. But there was someone named Cich. A phone call revealed that she was indeed related to our soldier. She suggested we talk with Tom Robertson, a cousin with more information.
Robertson, a cordial man and retired history teacher, was pleased to get together. Over a cup of coffee, he reminisced about "Uncle Pete," who smoked a pipe and always seemed orderly and somewhat taciturn.
Robertson brought an unexpected treasure: Verner's scrapbook of World War I photographs, full of scenes of fellow soldiers, the French countryside, churches and buildings, and himself in full uniform. His love of architecture was obvious from the images he had captured. The photographs were very orderly and arranged - the essence of "Pete" Verner. That night Daniel and I stayed up past his bedtime, turning the pages gently, examining every picture.
Soldier's story From Crowe's obituary, I learned the name of the prep school he attended in Massachusetts. I called the librarian at Noble and Greenough School in Dedham, and within an hour she had e-mailed me a copy of his graduation photograph. He was in the debate and camera clubs, played football, and made the honor roll. Daniel and I studied the youthful picture for several minutes. "He looks like a nice guy," Daniel commented.
Then I tried the e-mail address the museum had supplied. To my amazement, it still worked. His Australian relative put me in touch with a man who had known Crowe in Vietnam.
Crowe was stationed in Ban Me Thuot in the Central Highlands, a "lush area full of tea and rubber plantations," recalled Fred Seamon. "Doug had bright red hair. His only pair of glasses were held together with tape; one lens was shattered. Late one night there was an enemy rocket attack, just a few rounds. He was the only casualty. A tiny piece of shrapnel had caught him in the jugular vein.
"I think Doug was one of the most unfortunate persons I have ever known. He served in a relatively quiet area and was killed by a small piece of metal that struck him in the only place it could have inflicted a mortal wound. On Memorial Day I pray that Doug, and all those killed in the war on all sides, in and out of uniform, have found peace."
A common bond Daniel and I felt like we got to know Pete Verner and Doug Crowe. We admired their photographs, read about their accomplishments and developed a feeling for their personalities. These men shared a common bond: their sacrifices in war to try and make the world a better place.
The following Memorial Day we returned to their graves, left some flowers, said a prayer, and thanked them. Afterward we moved on through the rows of solemn graves and found two other "forgotten" veterans who, after we get to know them, will teach us more about the making of America.
Excellent and inspiring story. I may try this with my kids.
So goes the Flag and so goes the Nation. Fail to honor one you will fail to honor all.
Thanks so much for posting this. It is really touching. It would be a great project to do with kids.
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