I have often thought about the first casualty in any war. Sometimes they are identified, but sometimes not. At the first musket shot that found it’s mark. The first artillery burst that scattered shrapnel into the first body. The first soldier to fall. The very beginning of the first battle of any war, there has always been a first to die.
When boys and men have gone off to war, there is usually a sense of excitement and visions of victory and at least “doing my part”, but when the first casualty happened, suddenly everything changed. This is for keeps. That first death came as the reminder that we are in something that is no longer exciting, but deadly. That first one served the rest by being the messenger that you can be killed here, and your family will never see you alive again. There are always many more to fall, but there is that first one that seems to be forgotten by all except the family and those who trained and lived with him.
Today is Memorial Day. Though all veterans appreciate being recognized, this day is only for those who died in service to the country. We are glad not to be in that group, but let’s keep the proper perspective. Today I’m thinking of the first ones to join that group along the way.