Remember The Fallen

Yesterday morning I arrived at work and realized it was May 22.

It didn’t immediately dawn on me that Memorial Day weekend was approaching. Instead, my brain went somewhere else entirely.

May 22 is the anniversary of the sinking of the USS Scorpion, one of only two nuclear-powered submarines the United States has ever lost. So like I do every year for both the Scorpion and the USS Thresher, I sent out a message to my group reminding them of the tragedy, the men we lost, and the importance of the work we continue to do at the national laboratory.

As a veteran of the United States Submarine Force, submarine tragedies weigh heavily on me. Even foreign ones. The sinking of the Russian submarine Kursk still bothers me deeply all these years later. And yes, I fully understand Russia spent most of my life occupying the role of geopolitical adversary.

Didn’t matter.

Those sailors were still trapped men beneath the sea. That reality transcends politics pretty quickly.

And honestly, looking back over most of my adult life since leaving the Navy, America has been at war almost continuously.

Afghanistan.
Iraq.
Counterterrorism operations scattered across the globe.

For the people who served, those wars were incredibly real.

For much of the civilian population? They often felt more like political talking points than shared national sacrifice.

That disconnect has always bothered me.

Memorial Day especially feels different now. Somewhere along the way it became less about remembrance and more about:

• camping trips

• burgers

• beer

• lake weekends

• furniture sales

And look, I’m not saying people shouldn’t enjoy the holiday weekend. But sometimes it feels like we collectively forgot why the holiday exists in the first place.

When I suggest attending an actual Memorial Day service, people often look at me like I’ve suggested we all go churn our own butter afterward.

But those ceremonies matter.

Yesterday I was catching up with a friend who stopped by my office. She’s career Army and still serves as a reservist while working full time at the laboratory. Whenever veterans occupy the same space, there’s always banter. We immediately start talking shit about each other’s branches because that’s part of the culture.

We had a good laugh making fun of the Air Force and Coast Guard for a while before I eventually admitted that, in retrospect, the Coast Guard actually does some pretty badass things. And we both agreed the Air Force becomes incredibly lovable anytime something needs to explode from a great distance.

At some point she mentioned that she couldn’t imagine living aboard a submarine in those cramped conditions.

And honestly? I can’t imagine Army life either.

You’re telling me human beings willingly march through foreign forests carrying eighty pounds of gear, stumble upon some muddy patch of earth, and collectively decide: “Yep. This looks like a comfortable place to sleep.”

That seems absolutely insane to me.

Deserts.
Mountains.
Forests.
Snow.
Mud.
Heat.
Rain.

Army folks just point themselves toward the horizon and force their feet to follow.

I respect the hell out of that.

The truth is that veterans and active duty military members really are brothers and sisters underneath all the branch rivalry. We’ll insult each other endlessly. But if somebody who never served starts talking shit? Oh, now we’ve got a problem.

Because underneath all the jokes and branch stereotypes exists a shared understanding: we all signed the same blank check.

Some people cashed it with their lives.

This Memorial Day, do me a favor: Go to a service.

They’re usually held at local cemeteries. They’re quiet. Reverent. Solemn.

Stand there for a little while and remember the people who signed the dotted line as kids and never came home.

Like it or not, they did it for you.