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| Jenny?! |
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| Twelfth Night |
"Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them." So spoke Malvolio, Shakespeare's Twelfth Night character whose foolish ambitions made him the laughing stock of aristocratic Illyria. Perhaps the same may be said of history -some are born into it, some achieve their place in it, and some are thrust into it. Throughout the two and half hour march from event to event in the movie and life of Forrest Gump, Forrest appears to embody the man having history thrust upon him, as his life intertwines with everyone from Elvis to John Lennon, Bear Bryant to JFK. His non-plussed attitude, his unremarkable intelligence, and his unwitting impact upon events and society portray history as much a series of accidents than a compilation of great achievements. However, a closer look shows Forrest as a catalyst of history, one who greatly impacts those important to him -the lives of his friends and family.
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| From my Instagram account, taken at the procession and interment of the two Monitor crew members |
This May 26th we remember those Americans fallen at war, a day
first set aside to honor those soldiers who died during the Civil War (Decoration Day) -and later expanded as "Memorial Day" to honor all who gave the ultimate sacrifice for this nation. Such reflection naturally leads to an examination of our place and participation in history. On March 8th of last year, I found myself in my own Forrest Gump moment, on DC's ABC news proceeding from the Arlington National Cemetery's chapel to the burial ground honoring members of the
USS Monitor who passed away at sea during the Civil War. I had a front row seat as a nation bestowed high honors on two soldiers who had fought centuries ago. You could
see my bobbing head (far side of the procession somewhere around @ 0:25-0:45) amongst the servicemen and horses leading the procession through hundreds and hundreds of onlookers and press. While I felt thrust into the moment by chance, I expect the two USS Monitor crewmen being buried that day might have felt the same way, had they been aware of this event in their honor.
That is not to say the two sailors were unaware of their place in history. The Confederacy's USS Virginia battled the North's USS Monitor at Hampton Roads in the world's first battle of all iron-clad ships, changing the course of sea warfare and ship technology. The Monitor was the ambitious design of a Swedish-born engineer weighing over 1000 tons, a ship of highly suspect seaworthiness, a "cheesebox on a raft" laughed at by contemporary laymen, designers, and sailors alike, maligned as much as the Shakespearean Malvolio and his designs on greatness. While the Monitor survived the battle of Hampton Roads, it fell, along with all 16 of its crewmen, in a storm off of Cape Hatteras, North Carolina, less than one year after it had been commissioned. The ship was recovered in 1974, and in an expedition to recover the turret in 2002, the remains of two of its crew were found,
their identities likely (but not conclusively) determined. And so, the Navy honored the fallen sailors with a service and burial at Arlington National Cemetery, on the date of the Battle at Hampton Roads.
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| Battle of the Ironclads at Hampton Roads |
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| Reconstructed likenesses of the two sailors |
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One of the Monitor's crewmen, and likely one of the two buried that day, was my great great great grand-uncle, William Bryan. In a telling lesson in fate, his brother James fought for the Confederacy, despite both being born in Scotland. Since the Civil War, my American family (on my mother's side) continued honoring their names, as generations of Bryans were named "William" or "James" (my own middle names are "James Bryan"). When DNA testing and genealogical research (spearheaded in large part by my uncle Andrew Bryan) narrowed down the names of possible individuals, the Navy made sure descendants of the Monitor's fallen would have a special place in the ceremony (hence my inclusion).
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| Monitor Ranking Officials, near its famous turret |
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| Bryan (blue arrow) playing checkers |
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| The Compleat Angler |
William Bryan lived during the time of British expansion, and having left Scotland for America at a young age, he spent much of his life at sea. On the official program his
occupation was listed as that of a "Yeoman". This was a word I would have expected to
find in dusty yellow-paged books found in the upper stacks of a creaking
library. "Yeoman" hearkens back to the days of "ye olde
tavernes", "The Compleat Angler", and frosty malted drinks on
trips to town by carriage. I never really knew what it meant, let alone
actually imagined I was related to one. Perhaps a lower class citizen in
the Elizabethan era I thought. In fact, Yeoman comes from the
Germanic/Anglo-Saxon word for "young man". In the
Navy, the Yeoman was in charge of administrative duties on the ship, such as taking
inventory, keeping paperwork, and other tasks ("young man" and "the navy", Village People references abound!).
What were the titles and occupations of other crew members? The “Officer’s Cook” and “Coal Heaver” were fairly
self-explanatory. [“Hi I'm Edwin, a Coal Heaver.” And what do
you do, Edwin? “I heave coal.”] Others had less decipherable titles, leading me to "ye
olde internet" for some further research –after all, I was never very good at 19th
century naval terminology. “Ensign” referred to the rank of an
Officer, a “Quarter Gunner” helped the “Gunner” with the ship’s ammunition, and
the “Boatswain’s Mate” helped with the ship’s maintenance and equipment. The “Fireman”
had a particularly sweaty role, working in the steam and engine room (probably
in conjunction with Mr. Coal Heaver). “Landsman” was a term referring to a
newbie to the sea, a bottom of the totem pole sailor generally in his first
year on deck. And I am not sure what the roles for “First Class boy” were or whether or not there were other
ranks ascribed to boys, such as "Second Class boy" or "boy Captain", etc. etc.
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| My uncle seated facing our ancestors |
And so, some 150 years after the sinking of the Monitor, these fallen Union sailors were in the nation's spotlight after a chance finding of the wreckage and the remains of two of its sailors. Just months before the sinking of his ship, William Bryan
wrote home: "[W]e are going to have [a] big time with the Southerens [sic] in a very few days and all our army is made [sic] another grand move on them again, and we expect orders every moment to start and make the Forts smell the Monitor again." Bryan also recounts the excitement of having his picture taken along with the crew (not to mention the picture's apparent popularity in the U.S.) and asks his parents to "[G]ive my love to all of my brothers and sisters and let them know that I am still alive and kicking yet." Through his letter, Bryan seems to appreciate his place in the historical battles of the Civil War on the famous Monitor. But could he imagine the spectacle and honors bestowed upon him and his crew at the Arlington National Cemetary 150 years later? Could he imagine being buried at the cemetery in front of thousands of people and dozens of descendants looking on? The America of the time he was buried in the National Cemetery was no doubt significantly different than that of the America of 1862, particularly when Arlington was squarely in Confederate soil.
As I looked around the vast rolling hills of crosses upon crosses, the weight of thousands upon thousands of soldiers having lost their lives fell heavily in the air. And while a bright sun wrapped around the limbs of trees, casting eloquent shadows over the green hills and white crosses, I realized that many of the fallen were younger than myself, fighting in wars on foreign soil, far from home, uncertain of their future, each with their own plans, their own families, their own lives. But looking at the scope of white grave markers, I saw the vast ranks and columns firmly planted in memory of their efforts, together offering a solemn refrain: "United we stand." This was a reminder that each was a part of the other's effort. That each fought for a cause, fought for freedom, for America, for each other.
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| "United We Stand" |
Yet William's brother James had fought on the other side -the Confederacy. Weren't many of his
ancestors as American as those under the ranks and columns of
crosses? What separated one from the other? The brothers hadn't purposefully chosen
to fight against each other; instead they had both chosen to live in America,
albeit in different states. It would be easy to understand their participation in the war as a choice to support their neighbors and home soil of their states. As fate had it, James moved from Scotland to the South, while William moved from Scotland to New England, the backdrop of war leaving both on opposing sides of a brutal
internal war of one nation, between its states.
The ranks and columns of crosses reflect the duality of history and events, that we are a part of the events of our time and that although our participation in history is heavily influenced by chance, it is an active participation, the backbone of victory and the sacrifice of defeat. The Monitor and its crew were once lost to the ocean's depths, but the remains of two of ours had been found. To honor the two recovered sailors was to honor and remember all from the Monitor. And not just the Monitor; to honor these sailors was also to honor all those lost at sea under the flag of our nation, never to be given a proper burial. And beyond that, the news stations declared these the last Civil War soldiers to be buried at the National Cemetery. Hundreds showed up to this burial in Civil War garb, with deep regard for the gut-wrenching battle of one nation divided internally, its scars still apparent, a reflection as much on the nation's patriotic belief in its ideals as a reflection of the nation's segregationist and slavery filled history. The burying of these sailors could not be done without the context of the Civil War, an event, tragic though it may be, as indelible to our history as our separation from England.
And so it is fitting, that generations later, James' namesake James T. Bryan (my great uncle) fought against the Nazis together with his brother William Bryan (my grandfather), one on the USS Yorktown in the Navy, the other on a Coast Guard cutter, for a unified America, and a unified front against world oppression. Undoubtedly these men found strength from their ancestor William Bryan's sea legs, having heard the stories passed down from generations. Unlike my Civil War ancestors, these Bryans survived World War II, the war not between brothers but instead the war pitting good versus evil, freedom versus oppression. The events of their time had carved out their roles, the chances of fate led to paths of clear heroism and patriot pride. And here, the ranks and columns of crosses from varied wars remind us that "From many we are one." The buried soldiers at National Cemetery all share the charge of history, the commonality of war, and the interests of their people. The burial of two Union
sailors could be appreciated from the perspective of family members 150
years ago putting to rest their loved one, fellow crew or Union soldiers
seeing their brothers in arms honored, historians appreciating the
historical poignancy of the Civil War, or simply a nation honoring their
fallen soldiers, "United we stand, from many we are one."
Culturally, we
associate with ideas, with values, and with each other. People belong to
nations, ethnic groups, cities, political parties, families, teams, and
clubs. I asked myself, how was I associated with
this event? While the bugler played taps and service-members presented colors and arms, I looked into the eyes
of one of the Naval Officers performing the burial rites. I could see a
gravity there, a welling of pride and a sense of loss. Hardly a week
goes by without a soldier passing away in service to America, the loss of someone's brother or sister, someone's uncle or aunt, someone's friend, someone's compatriot
in arms. The moment was real to the service-members performing the ceremony, as they undoubtedly knew fallen comrades, and already could feel the reality of war. The sailors buried in front of me were part of my own family
and were now being recognized for their contributions to this country, a country whose values I love, a country to which I belong, a country built on the the backbone of its soldiers' efforts;
the moment had become real.
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| Cool by Association, Exhibit 1 (royal blood) |
As
the Navy honored those from the Monitor, I was proud to be part of
something bigger, proud of what my ancestors had done and taken part in. I felt a part of America, a part of history. Had I done anything special? No. But I understood the power of association, that simply being associated with something amazing helped impart some of that amazing-ness to me as well. I was cool by association. Just like my Civil War ancestors, I have roots beyond America, as I was born in Canada. However, to understand American history is to understand America as a place of ideas, a melting pot, and a destination. I may not have royal blood with princely lineage, but that made this association all the more powerful. I was associated with a cause, a country, and brave soldiers who had sacrificed their lives at war to that end.
The burial of the USS Monitor crew members was an event I could share with my family and countrymen. Powerful events allow us to cry together, laugh together, or celebrate together. Many events are out of our control, but that does not mean that we are powerless. Enter Forrest Gump. As much as the movie is a series of "fortunate" events making Forrest a table tennis star, a wealthy shrimp fisherman, or a savvy investor, at its core, it is a story of a man who has the dice of history and life cast directly against him. He is born without intelligence and with a debilitating leg condition. Jenny, the love of life, runs away from him time and time again. And he is called by his country to fight in a thankless, unpopular war, the brutality of which takes the life of his best friend. Yet Forrest emerges as hero in the face of it all. As destiny calls for the life of his Lieutenant, whose anscestors had each given their lives admirably in service to their country, Forrest steps in and saves Lieutenant Dan. While Forrest's actions overturn the apparent fate of his Lieutenant, an act Lieutenant Dan first hates Forrest for, his actions show the power of human will, the human element in "fate".
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| Sometimes it's the little things in life |
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| Duty in Uncertain Times |
Forrest's life illustrates the duality of history, that despite the inevitable intertwining of his life with the events around him, he had the ability to influence those events. He did not choose to play the Achilles, seeking glory over family, nor did he play the Malvolio, preening for attention, nor did he seek wealth and power; instead he sought to improve the lives of his friends, family, and fellow soldiers. Forrest participated in the world with a genuine respect for those around him, and appreciated the little things, understanding a cosmic relevance, an inner beauty only discoverable upon reflection and introspection. To many characters in the movie, Forrest looked foolish pursuing things for the people he
loved, but he pursued the very things most important to him with the utmost conviction, giving all of his heart, time, and energy to those dearest to him: Jenny, Lieutenant Dan, Bubba, Little Forest, and his mother.
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| Aeneas and Hector, Exemplars of Duty |
Being a part of the USS Monitor burial ceremony, I better understood history's inherent elements of chance and action, the importance of humble duty and personal initiative, and the importance of association -being part of a family, a country, and associating with certain values. Today we are the fortunate beneficiaries of sacrifices from our fallen soldiers, those who faced the "casting of the die" head on with courage and resolve, without knowledge to their fate, but with the belief that they could influence the outcome. This Memorial Day let us celebrate those who charted a path between personal initiative and humble duty, accepting the challenges of war. Let us pay respects to the ranks and columns of crosses and what they stand for, and let us hope that our actions, our lives, and our endeavors may one day measure in value to the sacrifices of those who have steadfastly gone before us.
And that's all I have to say about that.
-Esso the Esquire
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