Remember the Living

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Memorial Day 2009

This used to be a day of solemn remembrances for the men and women who died serving their country.

To many today is nothing more than the end of a three day weekend, a chance to spend an extra day eating too much, getting sunburned at the lake or picnicking with family and friends or simply kicking back and relaxing.

It's a trite old expression - they died so we could have the freedoms we are enjoying on this long weekend.

But it's true.

The worst thing about freedom is there's always someone trying to take it away from you (foreign and domestic). Because of that, there is always a need for those who will go fight.

So on this Memorial Day, I'd like to pay tribute to someone who believed that his mission was to serve in the military to keep his country safe.

My father.

Roy Harold Rhymer grew up in Hancock County Tennessee, 80 miles or so straight north of Knoxville and just south of Bristol. That's about as far back in the Tennessee hill country as you can get. The family farm lay on the Clinch River without indoor plumbing, without electricity.

Right after Pearl Harbor my dad's older brother Clay enlisted in the Marine Corps. Not quite a year later, at the ripe old age of 15 1/2 and still in high school, my father lied about his age and joined the Corps.

After boot camp at Parris Island he shipped out to the Pacific as part of the 3rd Marine Division. Bouganville, Guam, Iwo Jima and Okinawa were among his battles.

After the war my father, since promoted to sergeant and was promptly shipped off to the Middle East, serving in Damascus, Syria and Beruit, Lebanon. That is where he met and married my mother Rosalind.

He got back to the states just in time to go to Korea (right after I was born) with the 1st Marine Division, landing at Inchon and later going through the hell that was the Chosin Reservoir.

Returning to the states, he went to OCS, was commissioned and began his life as a Marine officer.

During the so called post war period, my father's unit was called up during the Cuban Missle Crisis and did tours in Viet Nam.

Despite his lack of formal education, my father read everything. He was a student of military history and foreign affairs. Because of his thirst for education and knowledge that would help him advance, the Corps made sure my father attended every school possible.

His military education and his personal studies allowed him to serve in a variety of posts that today only a college graduate would fill.

My father loved the Corps and loved his country. In his mind, there was no sacrifice too great as long as it meant serving the Corps and his country.

My father was easy to spot in a crowd. Standing six foot seven, he was imposing in his uniform with a chest full of medals. His service jacket contains a number of commendations for his service to the Corps and his country in a variety of capacities.

His proudest acheivement in the Corps however, was that he was one of only a handfull of officers who wore the Good Conduct Medal - awarded only to enlisted men.

After 30 years service, my father retired. Lack of a college degree prevented him from being promoted higher or serving longer, something he wanted more than anything else.

The Marine Corps gave him everything. He returned the favor.

My father died in 1978. He lies at rest in Arlington National Cemetary next to my mother.

Thanks Dad.