Memorial Day number 160

...or something like that. At least the story that I heard this morning was that it happened in Charleston, South Carolina. It seems that there was a Confederate Prisoner of War Camp, holding officers and enlisted troops that had been captured from the Federal Army during our Civil War. Either due to spite or because the Confederates were also starving, the prisoners were not treated well, and many simply starved to death. At the end of the war, over 200+ of the POWs had died and were buried in a mass grave.

The locals, mostly of the newly freed black race, decided to honor those deceased Federal prisoners who had been fighting to free them, as recently declared by President Lincoln. They were honored by digging out all those buried in the mass grave and then reburied in individual graves, with as many being identified as possible. It took a great effort, and I’d imagine working in a terrible stench, to exhume those bodies, but it was done. Then, in celebration, many, many black children decorated those new graves with flowers. That became Decoration Day and became a yearly practice. Eventually, Decoration Day by Congressional Order was designated a National Holiday to happen on the last Monday of May each year. It also became unofficially the first day of summer.

In respect for the Confederate forces, those POW’s held by our federal forces were held in equally terrible circumstances. Casualty rates were high, and the wounded received little or no medical care.

Yes, today is, as I write, Memorial Day and Grannie Annie and your old columnist attended the well-done formal event in McCook’s Memorial Park Cemetery. Usually, I have participated as part of the rifle squad for the Americal Legion, marching in and firing the traditional “21-gun salute” to honor all who have fallen in battle, sacrificing their lives to preserve liberty in our beloved United States of America. Having celebrated too many birthdays, it has become too difficult to march over uneven (even slightly uneven) well-kept grass in the cemetery. I elected to sit by Grannie Annie’s side for the very well-done formal ceremony this year.

Knowing the patriotic spirit of the communities in our small part of the world, I suspect that similar ceremonies took place throughout our area. In years past, I have been honored to be the speaker of those special ceremonies in several communities. Then, too, before my military retirement, I spoke at a small town in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I had to laugh a bit there as the local High School had celebrated their Senior Graduation the night before. Many of their band members, who played as part of the ceremony, obviously had a bit too much to drink, probably little sleep and were having a hard time standing at attention and playing their parts of the National Anthem, much to the frustration of their band teacher.

Reflecting on how both sides ran their Prisoner of War camps during the Civil War, and my own little experience of visiting our German POW camp, just north of our neighboring village, Indianola, Nebraska. My father was a UNL classmate and friend of the Commander Officer of the camp. One Sunday, he invited Dad and our family to have dinner there in the camp. I was probably 8 years old at the time. Dad, my brother and I dined in the Officers’ Mess and mom, my sisters ate with the Commander’s wife in their private quarters. Our meal was prepared and served by talented POWs wearing their prisoner uniforms. Not sure, but probably mashed potatoes, gravy and roast beef on the menu. I do remember drinking reconstituted milk for the first time.

After our meal, we rode in the Commander’s staff car as the prisoners marched down the hill into Indianola to a large church. A prisoner preached the sermon and conducted the services in German. Following, all marched back up the hill back to their camp.

It is interesting that prisoners rarely tried to escape from our POW camps here in our heartland, although security was pretty loose. Lots of stories. After the war, even a few of those former prisoners managed to return to the States and become citizens. Unfortunately, someone up the line decreed that all those who served as POWs had to be returned to the places from where they had been citizens in Germany before being inducted into the German Army. That meant that many were placed back in East Germany, controlled by the USSR and escaping from that territory was next to impossible, or I’m sure more would have come back. A different world since our Civil War.

That is how I saw it.