I’m just going to take a moment to bring up the people who went before me. When the Civil War broke, my great-grandfather, William H. Rogers, and his three brothers, all joined the Union Army, mustering out at Freeport, IL. They, along with my great-uncle Barton Rogers, a chaplain, all took part in this. My great-uncle George fought with Hurlburt’s Division at Shiloh. My great-uncle John was a courier, killed on a courier run. My great-uncle James served with the 3rd Wisconsin Infantry.
John Chapman was my grandmother’s uncle. He was in the Union Cavalry, killed in action.
After the War was over, William and George came home and started law offices, William in Wisconsin and George in Illinois. James went down to Kansas and started ranching. Barton returned to Wisconsin and the church where he’d been a pastor.
For them, and for others long gone, I offer this little poem that my mother wrote during World War II.
The winds of life blew over me,
And days held constant change,
And thundering war swept all the world,
And peace sometimes seemed strange.
But some things were unshaken
No matter what time brought:
The love of country, family, friends
And the wonders God has wrought.
And last of all, for a family friend who lost his life in the DMZ during Operation Prairie Fire in 1967:
Steve, we hardly knew you.