Crispin Day - Dr. Duncan Trueman

MEMORIAL ADDRESS by Dr. Duncan Trueman, 424/Anti-Tank Company
Presented at Mount Rushmore during the September 1994 , 48th Annual Reunion,
of the 106th Infantry Division Association, Rapid City, South Dakota

Imagine yourself setting in an amphitheater with over 500 members of the Association
in the cool of the evening, with bright stars above, and with the four presidents
on Mount Rushmore looking down on you. It is inspiring, then you listen up while
Reverend Dr. Duncan T. Trueman, one of you, delivers and inspiring memorial.
Your thoughts go back, your eyes get moist and you realize that the
Reverend is speaking deeply from his heart.
Read the address and be inspired.

He has girded us with strength for battle;
He has made our adversaries bow at our feet: PSALM 18

A few days ago my wife, Grace, and I had the opportunity to view Mt. Rushmore for the very first time. In the visitors? center, on one wall appear the words of its sculptor, Gutzon Borglum. He expressed his purpose in creating this magnificent monument. Speaking of these four presidents “Their words, their deeds, their lives.” Borglum said, That it was his purpose to let posterity know what manner of men they were." It seemed to me that is not unlike our purpose here this evening, as we think of our comrades who are no longer with us, We wish the whole world could know what manner of men they were.

In his wonderful book of poems dedicated to the men of the 424th Regiment, Dale Carver,
106th Infantry Division, Poet Laureate, includes this verse:

“Where are the young lieutenants who sailed across the sea ?
Where are the proud young men who went across with me.
Some are home now, older; some sleep beyond the sea —
And all are so much humbler than ever they thought they'd be."

We are here this evening to remember our comrades who sleep beyond the sea. Fifty years later we are humbled, indeed, as the renewal of our comradeship stirs up memories once again. Of friends and places and deeds that are still imprinted indelibly upon our minds.

It was General Douglas Mac Arthur who resurrected that questionable saying: “Old soldiers never die, they just fade away.” We know that they do die - young and old. They don't fade from our memories.

We are all old soldiers now. As we look about us the signs are quite apparent. We walk less straight, move less quickly, hear less acutely. But whenever our thoughts go back to former times and far away places, then in the eyes of our minds we see each other once again in all the courage and vigor of youth. Those are our memories.

They keep returning, those old memories ... Of the cold and the snow... Of wounds suffered ... Of voices forever stilled. They never fade. There are very special memories unique to any soldier who was ever a POW, that none others can ever fully understand or share. And there are very special memories, unique to those who fought on through the rest of the war, killing and being
killed, that are as equally unforgettable.

None of these memories ever fade, even after half a century. Fifty years is as a day. The things we remember most have to do with people ... Our comrades, their friendship, their sacrifices, the courage, their faith. That's why our being here is so important: to preserve those memories.

And so we come together tonight as a memorial. We do so with great sadness still. But it is not just sadness that brings us together, it is also pride. None of us will ever glorify war, or even those battles in which we took part. But we are proud of our role in this struggle against evil fifty years ago. Our pride takes in and includes those who sleep beyond the sea. Our pride takes in and
includes those who came home with us, but have since gone to their reward. And our pride includes those who are with us tonight, whether able to be with us physically, or just in spirit.

Many accounts of the Battle of the Bulge have been written. Sometimes now it becomes difficult to differentiate between the things we have read and the things we actually recall. But what most of us do remember is that when the cannons were down and the anti-tank guns destroyed, when their ammunition was exhausted, everyone became a rifleman. Clerks abandoned their typewriters, cooks dropped their utensils, and they all became riflemen.

They ... And you ... And me ... And all these men whom we hold in our memories ... And that's the way they fought.

Secretary of War Henry Stimson's formal report read this way:

The 106th division which made a gallant stand in the Ardennes at the center of the German drive
has suffered casualties of 8,663. But it was the contribution of the men of this division ....
Which helped make possible the halting and repelling of the enemy.

So history, long ago pronounced its verdict ... All of us by resisting wherever we were; with whatever we had to fight with, for as long as we were able ... Cost the enemy the one thing he could not afford ... Time! In that we take pride !

It was Winston Churchill who called the Bulge the “Greatest American Battle of the War.” In it we sustained more casualties that were sustained on D-day. That should never be forgotten.

Do you remember what General Omar Bradley once wrote?

“The rifleman fights without promise of either reward or relief. Behind every river there is another hill; and behind that hill another river. After weeks or months on the line, only a wound can offer him the comfort of safety, shelter and a bed. Those who are left to fight; fight on, evading death, but knowing that with each day of evasion they have exhausted one more chance of survival. Sooner or later unless, victory comes, this chase must end on the litter or in the grave.”

That's the way of the Infantry. And sometimes not of the infantry alone, but of the Artillery, and the MP's and the Engineers and the Medics. Sooner or later all soldiers know that they may have to become riflemen ... As we did.

Dale Carver, our 424th Regiment poet, describes us now, fifty years later

Conceived of this ordeal of fire and icy earth, this brotherhood of old men came to be.
A kinship stronger far than that by birth, was born when we were young across the sea.
Of the ties that bind; others cannot know, but we were there, that winter long ago.

Nowadays, on special holidays, when the veterans are parading through town, or the flag passes by, or especially when taps echoes in the distance, I wonder if your eyes get as moist as mine ? I suspect they do. But its not just for sadness alone; it also has something to do with the ties that bind. We are proud of those who wore our Lion patch and we're proud of those who gave their lives.

Let me tell you about another battle, not our own. It was one of the classic battles of history. It took place in Northern France in the year 1415 between the English and the French. It's tactics are studied still. The English troops were something like us; there were only 13,000 of them. They faced fifty or sixty thousand or more French soldiers. Yet that outnumbered English army prevailed and went on to conquer. Our battle began during the Christmas Holiday Season.

Their battle began on what was then known as Saint Crispin's Day.

Before the battle, the King told his soldiers that those who managed to survive this day's battle should gather yearly to toast their
friends and boast of their wounds ...

Listen to the way Shakespeare recorded it in Henry V.
The King speaks as the battle is about to be joined. His words are proud words. They could have been spoken of you, of me, of any of us or all of us. Imagine that you are hearing these words on that cold, snowy, misty morning of December 16, 1944.
Are you back there ? Listen:

           He that shall live this day and see old age
           will yearly on the vigil, feast his friends
           and say: “Tomorrow is Saint Crispin's Day.”
        Then he will strip his sleeve and show his scars
         and say: “These wounds I had on Crispin's Day.”
         And gentlemen inEngland, now abed, shall think
             themselves accursed they were not there.
          And hold their manhood cheap, when any speaks
              who fought with us on Crispin's Day.

We remember and we thank God for all those who fought with us on our Crispin's Day. God blest us by their comradeship and courage. It was a time when faith did not come easily, but we personalized the words of the 18th psalm and made them our own:
“It was God who armed us with strength. He armed us with strength for battle and made our adversaries bow at our feet.”
Our comrades? faith in God strengthened our faith in God, and our faith in God strengthened theirs. We are not embarrassed to recall that many prayers were shared in foxholes together.

Their friendship was precious and is precious still. It touched us and impacted our lives in unforgettable ways. In some cases there were those who literally gave their lives for some of us who are here tonight.

The bible says, “greater love hath no man than this ...” What manner of men were they - that God gave us ... That God gave our country ?

I think it was the quality of fidelity that we most treasured... that quality that gave all of us the confidence that when the chips were down, we could count on them, just as they could count on us.

The author, Walter Murphy, once wrote:
You don't know, you cannot know, the comradeship of men who have shared the fear and filth of war. We were brothers. Education, wealth, family... None of these things was important. All that mattered was whether a man would stay awake on watch ... Stand and fight ... Risk his neck to rescue you if you got hit. We loved each other.

We share that love still. We hold the comradeship of those days to be precious still. We honor still those who have gone to their reward before us. God surely keeps their souls ... We keep them in memory.

And we honor still the Golden Lion that we wear. It was worn with pride fifty years ago. It was worn with pride by every one of these men whom we memorialize tonight, and this Golden Lion is still worn with pride by you and by me - and regarded with pride by everyone in this place. It is not only our standard ... This Lion has at last become a symbol ... A symbol of the honor we pay to all of our comrades of long ago - with whom we fought and bled and prayed and lived and loved.

So, strip your sleeve, and say it with pride,

“These wounds - yours and mine we had on our Crispin's day .... That winter long ago.”

Dr. Duncan T. Trueman
Mount Rushmore, SD
Sept 1994

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