With Veterans Day fast approaching, I was deeply absorbed viewing the History Channel narrations and depictions of World War II. My reasons for this were many. One was the fact my eldest sibling was drafted to serve in that war when he was a young lad of only 19. I was five at the time but I have a clear memory of what those difficult three years entailed for my parents.
Visits to the White Chapel Memorial Gardens began long before my parents, brother Abe, and friends were buried there. At that young age I never looked upon it as a cemetery. It was just a beautiful, tranquil setting with a huge white marble building (chapel) fronted by a large pond surrounded by white petunias in the summer. A picture of me at age five sitting in those flowers was kept in my brother’s wallet while serving in the army.
The drive to Troy’s White Chapel is short but I was not prepared for what greeted me as I entered through the heavy iron gates on this Veterans Day. Hundreds of large American flags lined the sides of the lengthy driving lanes. The red, white, and blue waved gently on this warm Michigan autumn afternoon giving one a feeling of strength and security—that freedom fought and died for so valiantly would go on hopefully forever.
God was good to us today, here where all were lying in eternal sleep, proving that after every storm the sun does shine warmly again.
My father frequently took us to White Chapel as a destination place when I was a child. One of our favorite places to stop then and still now was the Polar Bear Monument dedicated to the men who served and died in the American North Russian Expedition from September 1918 to July 1919, sent to the frozen Russian front by President Woodrow Wilson.
Instead of convincing Russia not to sign a peace agreement with Germany at the end of World War I, these Polar Bear Forces found themselves fighting the Bolsheviks during the Russian Revolution.
Of the 5,500 Polar Bears, named for the frozen conditions under which they fought, three-fourths were from the Detroit area. Fifty-six of them are buried beneath the Polar Bear Monument. A trip to White Chapel is so worthwhile, allowing one to reflect on the realities of war. A special service is held at the Polar Bear Monument every Memorial Day and is open to the public.
Dedicated in 1930, the fierce looking polar bear sits atop a black granite base carved out of a solid block of Georgia white marble by famed French sculptor Leon Hermont guarding a cross and infantry helmet.
The brave warriors who fought for freedom for this country in other wars are not forgotten either. At White Chapel you will find stirring, beautiful marble monuments containing explanatory plaques for World War II with the Four Freedoms Memorial, the eight-foot tall Korean War Memorial in polished granite, the same granite for the Vietnam War Memorial, a granite memorial to those who fought in the Persian Gulf War, and finally a memorial to those, it is hoped, who will be returned home one day, the POW/MIAs.
The beauty of the human mind is that it is continually capable of learning and being aware of the world. Watching the World War II stories makes me acknowledge how fortunate my family was to have Abraham return home in one piece, although shrapnel scars were permanent evidence of his physical wounds. He gave his Purple Heart to me to be given to his nephews, my sons Brad and Brant, when they got older.
Ulcers plagued him for much of his life. He passed away days after his third open-heart surgery at age 60. It is no consolation to be the sister he doted on knowing he was considered to be one of the handsomest Armenian guys around.
My regret now is that I was too young to ask Abe the questions that fill my mind. That is why, as the mother of two sons, the sorrow and destruction of war continues to hold my interest as such a waste of human life.
I would want to ask him all about the preparation and his eventual landing on the beaches of Normandy. Those landing barges he and thousands of other GI’s were on that fateful day were built right here in Pontiac, everyone’s hometown at the time.
I’ve seen pictures of the invasion of Normandy. What miracle protected him from getting killed? What did this 19-year-old know about killing? What did he feel? The easy answer is he was trained to serve his country bravely with honor and he did.
After watching these graphic war depictions I have to go outside and look around at the free country I live in. I take in lots of deep breaths of fresh air and do a lot of thinking, pensive thinking that lead to somber thoughts.
This freedom comes because of the high price men and women have made, whether they survived or died. They sacrificed the dreams of their youth and will forever carry thoughts of their comrades. I am sure Abe would not have wanted to discuss these issues but the History Channel does it for him instead.
Ulcers, heart problems, addictions, trauma, mental problems, not being able to integrate into the mainstream upon return, are all problems we need to understand. And we must give our veterans everything they need at whatever cost for the price they paid for our liberty. We owe it to them.
I placed an American flag on my brother and said the “Hayr Mer.” So many memories of when he was alive came rushing back, including the last family Christmas at my house when we all knew the danger he would be facing under the Texas heart surgeon’s knife a few short weeks away. He survived the surgery only to succumb to complications a few days later. Mother was in shock. Her golden son who survived World War II, ulcer surgeries, and heart surgeries was dead.
At difficult moments she had a saying, “Better to be a dog than to be a mother.” For mom that moment had arrived. She had the pride of knowing her son served his country proudly for three long dangerous years, not just as a six-month wonder.
I have his honorable discharge papers in front of me as I write. It includes all the medals he earned. Thanks, Yeghpayr. Vosgornerut hankeedsk ellan.
No holiday holds the same joy since the deaths of my parents and brother.
Betty Apigian-Kessel
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