Marion Brooks Williams, my maternal grandfather, died when I was 6 years old, giving me barely enough time to develop clear impressions of the man, let alone get to know him very well. He, too, was a World War I veteran, enlisting from his home in Kershaw County, S.C., and serving in the U.S. Navy.
Having that connection has always been valuable to me and has always spoken to the small contributions that members of my family have made to the armed services for nearly 200 years. A quick genealogical survey reveals that my maternal great-great grandfather, Creighton Williams, served in the War of 1812, enlisting at the age of 19 and receiving an honorable discharge a year later because he was underage.
On my father's side of the family, several family members served and lost their lives in combat during World War II, and it was that legacy and the influence of his father in law that pointed him toward Navy service before national sentiment had turned against the war in Vietnam.
His four-year hitch in the Navy was served aboard the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Franklin D. Roosevelt, which saw its only combat in the Gulf of Tonkin with my father aboard working long shifts on the flight deck. Here's a quick summation of that mission from www.ussfranklindroosevelt.com:
"FDR’s sole opportunity to flex her muscles in combat came in the waters off Vietnam in 1966. Normally an Atlantic Fleet carrier, Franklin D. Roosevelt commenced launching her first strikes against enemy targets on 7 August, completing her final line period on 27 December. All told, she spent ninety-five days on the line launching combat missions, her embarked air wing losing seven aircraft to enemy fire and eight more in operational accidents."
Mr. Buckles' service in the Great War, as well as later in World War II, is well documented. That's partly due to his long life but also the result of his life being particularly colorful. We are fortunate that through his spoken and written accounts and his testimonies to Congress on behalf of World War I veterans we gained still more insight on what combat was like just after the turn of the 20th century.
As for my grandfather, I'm ashamed to say I know as much about his service as I've recounted above. To my knowledge, there are no written accounts of his service floating around in family documents, nor are we in possession of papers or official documents that might shed light on what his life in the Navy of 1917 was like. Truly, what remains is little more than a photograph of a young man in an archaic Navy uniform in whom I see a vague resemblance to myself and who I can recognize as the much older man I knew as a child.
In knowing little about his service, both I and my children suffer, as we are denied a little extra - and by extension, personal - perspective on one of the 20th century's pivotal conflicts.
My father, on the other hand, emboldened by age and the respect Vietnam-era veterans have earned over the intervening decades, has made it a point to recount details of his service to his grandson. By extension, I too benefit from this airing of old stories and once-private family history.
For me, it's a reminder that there have been harder, more tenuous times than now, during which the motivation to serve was strong, and that members of my family stepped forward with bravery and honor. For my son and daughter, it offers them perspective on a conflict that came long before they were born. And though I hope by the time the reach the ages at which they are eligible to serve in the military that need to serve will have been rendered moot by a prevailing peace, it's important for them to know that by their service, members of their family contributed in some small way to that peace taking hold.
