On Veterans’ Day we remember the war dead of our country. We try in honest and frank humility to remember those who gave their lives for ideals like decency, and freedom, and liberty for all, not just for the citizens of this country. A lot of Americans have died in a lot of wars, stretching back more than 250 years, and quite a few of those wars have not been on our soil, thank heavens.

But Veterans’ Day started out as Armistice Day, a holiday to remember the end of the “War to end all wars,” or “The Great War,” as it was commonly called until World War II came along, and then there was a series of colonial wars in Asia, and Africa.

Last year I wrote two pieces for this day that I’m going to republish because they treat the subject with a traditional solemnity. They follow this essay. But I had a special memorial for this year.

There are many in this world who say that America has become an evil nation, an aggressor and oppressor. They look at the ring of military bases all around the world and ask, “What are you protecting us from, now that Communism is gone?”

I don’t have an answer for that, because ”Islamofasciasm” is a bullshit idea thought up by a few small, wizened old men with shriveled souls in offices in Washington and the capital of another country I’m not permitted to name when I’m talking about American wars of empire.

Rather than talk about the evil we are perpetrating today in the name of Big Oil and Big Corporations I want to talk about Americans from farms, and villages and cities who answered the call to the colors, donned uniforms, and went off to fight in order to eject oppressors from other nations. We have left trails of dead around the world in our crusades of conquest and liberation, and I think we forget that since we haven’t had much killing on our soil since 1865.

There are a lot of American cemeteries and memorials on small Pacific islands to mark the road to Tokyo. There are quite a few on the European continent, too, heading towards Paris and Rome and Berlin. Some of them are official cemeteries, and others are just small markers, erected by people who remember that men and women of another land traveled 3,000 miles to free them, and they honor that memory.

There are official lists of World War I cemeteries. This particular site mostly honors Commonwealth dead, since the British and German Empires and France suffered the most grievous losses in that war. Here’s another.

Americans have their own cemeteries in Europe. More than 100,000 Americans are interred in Europe. A lot of our kinsmen died to liberate Europe.

Not all memorials are composed of huge expanses of carefully trimmed green grass and perfectly aligned stones. These are national memorials, and are paid for by taxpayers in various countries. Some memorials are quite modest and heart-stirring.

A friend of mine was in France recently and I got an email which I want to relate. I’ve cleaned it up ever so slightly, because I keep pretending this is a family blog.

A slightly different pic from Chambord; I went for a walk in an area I haven't been before and stumbled on this memorial at the edge of the forest. There are probably hundreds like it all over France, and despite Homer Simpson, the French really do appreciate US help in the war.

All the military cemeteries are a constant reminder and they are all beautifully maintained, including the German ones. In the Somme area there are just so many monuments to men of many different nations; as I drive to and from the Channel it is just a constant succession, so you would have to be a very hard person not to think occasionally.

One little bit that has annoyed me recently is a pile of complaints from some British that the French are building a motorway over land which probably contains some as yet undiscovered dead soldiers. The French have mad[e] it clear that there is an archaeological dig first to discover any remains and give them proper burial. I don't see that you can ask for more. Without the motorway those bodies would have remained unrecognised and ignored as they have been for the last 80 years or so.

This little piece of mail touched me in a way I can’t describe. I’ve toured the Somme and Vedun areas, seen several military cemeteries and been stunned and saddened by the seemingly endless lines of stone markers, almost like whitecaps on a storm-tossed sea.

But I’ve never seen anything quite like this.

I blew up the English translation of the stone to display the brief narrative of this memorial. I’m glad to know that the pilot and copilot of the plane were rescued by the French and hidden until they could rejoin their countrymen. I wish there was word of the crew, but I haven’t been able to learn anything. I asked my British friend to make inquiries on the next trip. Maybe next year I will finally have some good news to discuss on this saddest of all days.