ROSE PARK-THE GHOST BRIGADE OF KALAMAZOO

ROSE PARK
THE GHOST BATTALION OF KALAMAZOO

The day was cloudy, damp and somber as if all nature knew that it should not intrude on the memories of the people searching the bricks. Many of the bricks had a star each side of the soldier’s’ name, telling that he had been killed in action. The sounds at Rose Park were of people slowly searching the bricks, looking for a particular name. The crowd stirred as the uniformed color guard brought the Stars and Stripes to Rose Park for the memorial ceremony to begin. A cannon roared twice and then the names of eleven hundred Kalamazoo men who gave their lives in defense of the nation were being read aloud so that we, the living, would know the price of liberty and freedom. These veterans who should not be forgotten and who knew that there are American Ideals worth dying for.
Elderly veterans read the names of the men killed in action in all the wars from the Civil to the most recent conflict. A uniformed veteran braced to attention as the names were being read and saluted as a particular name was pronounced. I believe the veteran knew the man and the sacrifice that was made so long ago. Some of the men quietly wiped their eyes, hoping that people would not notice. My uncle, standing next to me, dropped his head a bit when the name Jack Kean was read. I know the history. A day in 1942 when a Japanese machine gun, hidden in the tall kunai grass chattered, chattered again and still again and cut Jack in half. Sixty years later, my uncle still has dreams of the battles.
The street traffic sounds intruded on the solemnity of the occasion so I closed my eyes to concentrate on the names being read. After a time I noticed a cadence to the traffic sounds that began to take on the rhythm of the reading of the names. I kept my eyes closed and the cadence became the marching sounds of the Ghost Battalion of Kalamazoo. Men in Union Blue, WWI Brown, WWII Khaki, shivering from Korean cold, wet from Vietnam sweat, row on row marching past Rose Park. As each line passed, their heads snapped to the right and their eyes, wet with tears, pierced our souls to see if we really understood why they had sacrificed their lives and if we are willing to protect their gift of Liberty and Freedom

OLDERWISER