Literally monumental: the
Norfolk Armed Forces Memorial
Like papers scattered in the wind, the
large bronze pages strewn on the ground at the Norfolk Armed Forces Memorial
catch you off guard and reach deep into your soul. One billows up in the center
as if floating down from a passing gust of wind to land with just its four
corners touching the ground first. The edge of another folds over itself,
seemingly in the process of coming to a flat resting stop. And one leans
against a bench in arrested motion. The 20 sheets with raised lettering
represent correspondences dating from Oct. 4, 1776 to Jan. 31, 1991, sent from
soldiers of the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812, the Civil War, both World
Wars, the Korean War, Vietnam and the Gulf War. The letters reached home, but
the men and women who wrote them did not.
As an art historian and world traveler, I
have visited many war-related monuments including the equestrian statues of
ancient Rome, the Arc De Triumph in Paris, the Minuteman on Lexington
Green, and 20th Century Commemorations. All the statues and arches
and obelisks and plagues created in memory of fallen heroes and in praise of
heroic battles are grand and important and meaningful. However, none has ever
moved me to tears as this unpretentious tribute along the Elizabeth River at
Town Point Park in Norfolk, Virginia. Designed by artist Maggie Smith and
architect James Cutler in 1998, the memorial is located on the water’s edge,
connected to the park by two bridges. As you walk along the picturesque
riverway with its shops and restaurants and gardens and happy people, you
really don’t anticipate seeing a war monument, and perhaps it is that
unexpected element that adds to its emotional impact.
Looking as if the letters have just
escaped from a passing boat, the chaotic scene seems so casual, so real, so
part of life. Two lines from Archibald MacLeish’s poem, The Young Dead
Soldier, mark the entrance/exit: “We give you our deaths/ Give them their
meaning.”
Bertram Arnold Bunting addressed this
missive to his “darling wife” on January 17, 1968, “When we meet again I can
promise you that there will be no wasted moments. Every minute spent with you
will be nothing less than a gift to be cherished . . .There are many times when
I want only to know your presence. . . There are many ways of loving—perhaps
the simplest are the most satisfying.” Bunting was killed in Vietnam less than
a month later.
Reading the soldiers’ own words and
imagining the addressees who loved and mourned the writers are powerful
experiences. The letters reflect first-hand accounts and universal themes,
personal opinions and profound philosophies. Writing to his mother, on June 18,
1918, Quincy Sharpe Mills said, “Even the trenches can be beautiful when they
are trimmed with flowers, and the barbed wire forms a trellis for rambling
vines. . . At the base of one of the birches is a flourishing wild rose bush,
literally covered with blossoms, some of which I sneaked up and picked. . . .”
He died on July 26 of the same year.
The
authors write of resolve for their present world and hope for the world’s
future. Three days before his death in Korea on October 20, 1951, Samuel Lloyd
Jones penned, “ This whole thing, as are all wars, is complete lunacy, proving
nothing. . . International courts aren't impossible. Men must work out
something along that line. Living from generation to generation of wars seems
like mankind admitting it doesn't know how to be civilized. There must be a
way.”
Art—whether it be painting, sculpture,
architecture, literature, music or monuments—has a way of capturing a society’s
thoughts and innermost feelings. Sometimes it is a rebellion and some times a
reflection. Here in Norfolk, it is a remembrance and a reminder that war is not
just policy or politics, it is also people.
