“This day does not belong to one man but to all. Let us together rebuild this world that we may share in the days of peace.” – The Return of the King
Antiaircraft battery on Corregidor, 1941/1942
The Mrs., Pugsley and I went out to the local cemetery this weekend. The Mrs. had bought flowers for her grandparents, and was decorating their grave. I have never once done this. First, the graves of my relatives are very far away. Second, my family never did this – we generally tried to honor the dead by remembering them.
Pugsley and The Mrs. were walking along the cemetery road looking for a grave of a relative that The Mrs. couldn’t quite find. They had taken off cross-graveyard and left me to bring the car up to the location that The Mrs. thought the grave might be. As I drove along behind them to catch up, a gravestone caught my eye.
I stopped the car and read the inscription. The headstone was big, ornate. On it, there was one letter larger than the others, and it wasn’t a first or last initial, it was the first letter in the rank of the deceased. Reading on further, this particular gentleman had died on May 5, 1942.
The place was Corregidor. Corregidor is a small island at the inlet to Manila Bay, in the Philippines. It was established as a fort around World War I. Needless to say, when the Japanese attacked the Philippines 10 hours after the attack on Pearl Harbor, Corregidor was at some point going to be attacked.
The siege of Corregidor started on December 29, 1941. After the fall of Bataan, the Japanese focused on Corregidor, bombing and shelling it. Finally, the Japanese decided to land an invasion force on May 4, 1942.
The fighting was ferocious, and the troops defending Corregidor, especially the Marines, gave more than they got.
As of right now, I don’t know exactly when or how the officer in the Modern Mayberry cemetery died or what his branch of service was. What I do know is that the monument notes that he isn’t really buried there – his body still lies half a globe away. He was buried in the Philippines after being killed in action.
I can only imagine Modern Mayberry back in 1942. To be clear, in May of 1942 the United States had exactly zero real victories against the Japanese – they were still expanding in the Pacific. The Germans still had a shot at victory if Case Blue worked out for them, allowing them access to the oil of the Caucuses.
When the officer died, it wasn’t looking good for the United States, at all.
Memorial Day used to be called Decoration Day, and the earliest recorded date I can find for it is 1861 during the Civil War. Originally it applied to those soldiers that died in war. It now applies to soldiers who died during service.
The mystery officer in Modern Mayberry’s cemetery certainly died during war. And as I drove by, I did notice a small American flag next to his grave. The American Legion had already been there. But I can only imagine the situation that led to his tombstone being where it is. No family nearby.
It was 1942 and he certainly would have been one of Modern Mayberry’s first dead from World War II. Perhaps his parents till lived there. Perhaps he had been a standout on the football team, a local hero. Why weren’t they buried next to him? Perhaps they moved away later.
These are questions that I don’t have answers to. There is no tombstone for a wife, so possibly he never married, or never had children, but again, I certainly don’t know. These are mysteries that, perhaps, I will never be able to solve.
That’s okay.
Tomorrow, I’ll take flowers down to put on his empty grave, and spend a few minutes thinking about the man buried half a world away from that tombstone, who died nearly exactly 80 years ago.