Yesterday, 19 February, was the 78th anniversary of the landing of the Marines and sailors on the island of Iwo Jima. Each year on this date I am reminded by many fellow Marines of the speech given by Rabbi Roland B. Gittelsohn at the dedication of the Fifth Marine Division Cemetery shortly after the battle ended. Of late I find myself wondering how those of whom he speaks feel about what they see looking down on this once great nation for which they gave their lives. Most Americans today, especially the younger ones cannot even venture a guess of what happened on this small Pacific island so many years ago.  And, sadly, many could care less. But I still care, I care very much for he speaks of my brothers

Should you have some free time today on Presidents Day, you may want to click on the lnk I have provided and learn something about this significant event in our nation’s history, that is before it is erased by those who choose to change our history.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Iwo_Jima.

Please read it slowly and carefully so as to not lose the full impact of his words to us all.

By Rabbi Roland Gittelsohn

This is perhaps the grimmest, and surely the holiest task we have faced since D-Day. Here, before us lie the bodies of comrades and friends. Men who until yesterday or last week laughed with us, joked with us, trained with us. Men who were on the same ships with us, and went over the sides with us as we prepared to hit the beaches of this island.

Men who fought with us and feared with us. Somewhere in this plot of ground there may lie the man who could have discovered the cure for cancer. Under one of these Christian crosses, or beneath a Jewish Star of David, there may rest now a man who was destined
to be a great prophet — to find the way, perhaps, for all to live in plenty, with poverty and hardship for none. Now they lie here silently in this sacred soil, and we gather to consecrate this earth in their memory.

It is not easy to do so. Some of us have buried our closest friends here. We saw these men killed before our very eyes. Any one of us might have died in their places. Indeed, some of us are alive and breathing at this very moment only because men who lie here
beneath us had the courage and strength to give their lives for ours. To speak in memory of such men as these is not easy. Of them too can it be said with utter truth: “The world will little note nor long remember what we say here.” It can never forget what they did
here.”

No, our poor power of speech can add nothing to what these men and the other dead who are not here have already done. All that we even hope to do is follow their example. To show the same selfless courage in peace that they did in war. To swear that by the grace
of God and the stubborn strength and power of human will, their sons and ours shall never suffer these pains again. These men have done their job well. They have paid the ghastly price of freedom. If that freedom be once again lost, as it was after the last war, the unforgivable blame will be ours not theirs. So it is we the living who are here to be dedicated and consecrated.

Too much blood has gone into this soil for us to let it lie barren. Too much pain and heartache have fertilized the earth on which we stand. We here solemnly swear: This shall not be in vain! Out of this, and from the suffering and sorrow of those who mourn this, will come — we promise — the birth of a new freedom for the sons of men everywhere.

Let us as Marines and Sailors never forget what this photo means to us