2008 MEMORIAL DAY ADDRESS – Randolph, Nebraska

The Great Americans
I thank you for having me here to share these ceremonies with you today. I wish to open by thanking the American veterans of all wars, those still walking among us, and those who are deceased, for the great sacrifices they have made for our nation. Thank you so much. Today, we honor you all as truly Great Americans.

I want to share with you some important Memorial Day sentiments written by a famous veteran of a famous war from a few years back, but some thoughts that ring true today too.

Through our great good fortune, in our youth our hearts were touched with fire. It was given to us to learn at the outset that life is a profound and passionate thing. While we are permitted to scorn nothing but indifference, and do not pretend to undervalue the worldly rewards of ambition, we have seen with our own eyes, beyond and above the gold fields, the snowy heights of honor, and it is for us to bear the report to those who come after us.

1884 Memorial Day Address of Civil War veteran, Oliver Wendell Holmes, who wrote so eloquently about his battlefield and war experiences of that War Between the States in 1861 through 1865.

That’s why we’re here today – recall what our veterans and all of our pioneers have done for us and to listen and remember their stories. For Holmes, and for all of the American veterans and their families assembled here today, and at similar ceremonies around this country, the "snowy heights of honor" have come with serving their country in uniform. It’s hard for us civilians to understand or even appreciate that they guy who fixes our teeth, the lady who teaches our children, the fellow who sells us seed corn, or the greeter or usher at church, could have been someone who walked the hallowed, dangerous fields of battle, fighting, putting life and limb on the line in a very real sense.

They don’t walk into a room like action heroes on TV. They don’t come with a Secret Service detail, you know with guys with dark glasses talking into their sleeves. They are just regular men and women, just like the rest of us. But what they have done for our country is what we all need to be appreciative of. And we need them – our honored veterans who are still living – to tell us about their fetes, to write their experiences down and to share with generations after them, what war was like, what they went through for liberty and freedom.

I’m a mere civilian too. I have never been in uniform for our nation’s service. I’ve never had a shot fired in anger at me, except for that one time when my brother was learning how to use his new BB gun. But after hearing some of the stories of the folks who have fought and sacrificed for our nation, I do appreciate what they did and how they did it.

My grandfather on my mother’s side was a doughboy, a veteran of World War I, the first War to end all Wars. He was a log cabin born Kentucky boy who was drafted by Uncle Sam, spent about six weeks in basic training and shipped out to the killing fields of France to fight the Dirty Huns. Grandpa didn’t talk much about the war, except he told us that the first time his unit was called up to the front trenches, they met face to face with the guys who had been up there a while. One guy Grandpa remembered, was covered in mud, blood and dirt from head to toe. He looked Grandpa in the eyes and said simply, "It’s hell up there. Keep your head down."

For a farm boy from Kentucky, those were chilling words and Grandpa had no idea what he was getting himself into. Over the course of the nine months his unit was engaged, they lived with rats and mud in trenches, survived gas attacks and mortar fire and went "over the top" into No Man’s Land during the bloody battle of Argonne Forest, that finally ended the war. During that time, no letters from home made it to him at the front. He had no contact with his family at all. He played a harmonica that he’d brought along with him for his fellow troops, to ease the tension when they were really scared. He always said the only way he came back alive was through the prayers of his mother. I know it was difficult for him to talk about those experiences to his teenaged grandsons, but I am so glad that he did.

Memorial Day – or Decoration Day as it was once known – to many folks has become an opening day for camping season. It has become a day for shopping Memorial Day sales and firing up the grill for the first time of the summer season. And that’s OK, as long as we never forget why it is commemorated in the first place, to honors folks like my Grandpa.

The first Memorial Day was probably celebrated during the Civil War, surprisingly, by Confederate widows, who decorated the graves of their fallen husbands. Later on, around 1866, after the war was over, a Union General named Logan, formally designated a day to decorate the graves of Union dead with flowers. As Civil War soldiers aged and passed on, Memorial Day, once celebrated on May 30 each year, was filled with speeches, much like today, and parades of aging Civil War veterans, who often walked to the community cemeteries and placed flowers on the graves of their fallen comrades. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if those Civil War veterans didn’t walk down the streets of Randolph in years passed for a ceremony just like that.

Cedar County and Randolph, have their own share of Civil War veterans lying at rest in our cemeteries. Some of these fellows came to the county later in life, after the war, to raise their families, set up a homestead and found our communities. They were not only brave soldiers, but also brave pioneers on the prairie.

Some of them were part of the territory during the Civil War. They were the first Nebraska soldiers. One such soldier – not a fellow from Cedar County – but a guy who immigrated to Nebraska Territory from Montreal.

Robert R. Livingston was a medical doctor who moved from Canada to Plattsmouth, just as Nebraska was being opened up to settlement. As an educated man – a doctor – he was also called on to do lots of official and important things for the community. On the day the Civil War began, Dr. Livingston was filling in for the editor of the Plattsmouth Herald newspaper, running that week’s edition of the news.

A young boy ran into the office. Doctor, Doctor, did you hear? Livingston shook his head. The rebs have fired on Fort Sumter in Carolina. The war has started. Livingston immediately stopped the presses, and put out a new sheet and had it tacked to every post in town.

There would be a meeting that night at an upper room above the old grocery store of every able bodied man in Plattsmouth. That night, marshall music played at the foot of the stairway leading to that upper room. The room filled with men of all shapes, ages and sizes. Even young boys of 13 or 14 sat in the room. Everyone was in an excited state. What was this meeting about?

Then Dr. Livingston walked into the room. A tall, slender man, he was a commanding figure – well respected by everyone. Silence fell over the room as he began to speak. The war has begun, Livingston said. Nebraska was not a state in this Union, but as a territory of Union, Livingston said every man should line up to join forces to put down the rebels.

Although there were 13 slaves in the territory at the time, they mostly resided in the "southern" city of Nebraska City. The Plattsmouth bunch was pro-Union and Livingston pointed this out. Finally, he spoke with particular seriousness.

"Gentlemen, I believe God will forgive any man’s sins who stands up for his country today." Livingston walked over to a small table, took up a pen and wrote his name at the top of a list of volunteers for the new Plattsmouth Company. He became, that night, the first volunteer for the Union army from Nebraska Territory.

Everything he did after that – leading Nebraska boys at Union victories at Fort Donelson, Tennessee and on the second day of battle at bloody Shiloh – leading Nebraskans in the guerilla war in Arkansas and Missouri and then leading soldiers back home on the plains.

Everything he did after that fateful night in the upper room – would pale to the important leadership he provided for Company A of the First Nebraska Infantry Regiment in the American Civil War at that important meeting.

The ironic thing about Colonel Livingston is that after the war, he returned to his Plattsmouth, practiced medicine and eventually served his community as mayor. Like the veterans here today, he came out of the war and continued to serve his country – not on a battlefield, but in service to his neighbors, friends, family and community.

Because our modern Memorial Day not only honors the veterans who have died, but also all those patriots, even those civilians who served their country by being husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, farmers tilling the soil, laborers serving their community. They served their country by serving their community, raising their families and caring for each other.

Maybe John F. Kennedy put it best in his Inaugural Address. We all know the line, "Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country…" which is a wonderful sentiment. But he goes on to say something more about serving our nation by serving and sacrificing for our community.

With a good conscience our only sure reward, with history the final judge of our deeds, let us go forth to lead the land we love, asking His blessing and His help, but knowing that here on earth, God’s work must truly be our own.

So the veterans of our nation have set the bar pretty high for the rest of us. We can’t just sit around our communities, our schools, our churches and our farms and complain about things going wrong or things we don’t like. The veterans who have sacrificed everything have set an example that doesn’t allow for whiners.

We must, to follow JFK’s call to action, serve others – serve our communities, pitch in where they need some volunteers, coach some youth leagues, plant flowers in our parks, help our schools and do things for each other as neighbors and as Americans. That is the best way we can honor those Great Americans – those great American veterans.

In closing, I wish to offer prayers for the safety of the men and women in uniform right now in Iraq and Afghanistan and wherever U.S. troops are serving in the world today. And above all, I wish to honor all of you veterans in the audience today and all of the veterans who have gone before you. We cannot put words on paper or raise our voices loud enough to truly honor you. I suppose the simple words are always best – "We thank you!"

LONG JOURNEY HOME
(Living Here Magazine, Summer 2007)

If you stroll into the quiet little cemetery, just west of St. Joseph’s Catholic Church in the hamlet of Constance, Nebraska, two miles south of Highway 12 east of Crofton, you think more about peace, than about war.

While visiting, you might stride past an unassuming grave marker that is not distinguishable from other neat headstones in the cemetery, except that it has a Korean War veteran marker beside the stone, and by the dates on the headstone, you will notice that the man interred there died during the war.

It’s hard to believe that a man was snatched from the prime of his life on a battlefield thousands of miles away, and that he could wind up in one of the most peaceful resting places on earth, even after such a violent death. But that is exactly how things played out for Daniel Steffen.

Christmas time around the Joe Steffen household in 1950 was a little eerie. Joe’s son Daniel, 25 years old at the time, had just been called up for active duty in the Army in Korea. So their Christmas celebrations were tempered with worry and uncertainty.

Just three months later, on March 29, 1951, Daniel was hit in combat, a victim of shrapnel from a mortar shell and one of 33,742 American soldiers who perished in the Korean War. Daniel, who was awarded the Purple Heart posthumously, was a member of the courageous 5th Regimental Combat Team (5th RCT). The 5th RCT was engaged with the enemy 94 percent of the time during the Korean War.

Daniel served in the Air Force for 14 months during the end of World War II. Afterwards, he returned home to Cedar County and helped on the farm.

Steffen was a typical young man, enjoying parties and dances like everyone else, said one of his old friends, Ken Dreesen. He loved livestock, especially working with the purebred Poland China hogs his family raised. In fact, Dreesen said he first met Daniel while exhibiting 4-H livestock projects at the Cedar County Fair.

When Daniel was called back into active duty during the early months of the Korean War, he was uneasy about his future. Dreesen said he still remembers vividly the day he and Daniel bid each other farewell before Daniel shipped off.

"He shook my hand outside the Constance church," said Dreesen. Steffen told Dreesen that he had a feeling he wouldn't make it out of Korea alive, Dreesen remembers.

After a brief stint at basic training, Steffen shipped out of Fort Lewis, Washington, headed for the Korean front. At the time, American soldiers and their United Nation allies had been beaten back from the 38th parallel. By the time Steffen arrived on the scene, the United Nation Forces had begun a new offensive trying to retake Seoul and push the North Koreans and Chinese troops back to Phase Line Kansas.

A letter dated March 17, just twelve days before Steffen was hit, serves as a grim reminder of the cruelty and horrors of war in Korea. Steffen wrote that he had gotten little sleep lying on the cold ground in his pup tent not far from the Han River. "I'm 20 miles from the 38th parallel near Seoul," he wrote.

"The last week was the worst of my life," wrote Steffen. He wrote about walking among the ruins of nearby villages with another soldier and witnessing firsthand a little Korean girl living among the rubble, hungry and half-froze. Steffen worried about the children of the towns around who were getting by under similar conditions.

"Tomorrow is Palm Sunday," he wrote. "A Catholic chaplain came over last Tuesday night and I went to Mass and received Holy Communion." He wrote about his awareness of spirituality, especially under the life and death conditions he was living in.

Finally, he ended his letter, "I hope I get out of it alright. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm really scared. Happy Easter, Danny."

On April 8, Daniel's younger brother George was getting ready to celebrate his 22nd birthday by going into Fordyce. Hank Kuehn, who ran the bar in town and Ben Juergens, the postmaster and telegraph operator in Fordyce came out to the Steffen farm.

Daniel’s father, Joe, was on a hill by the barn around chore time when the two men approached him and told him a telegraph from the War Department notified them that Daniel had been killed. George remembers witnessing the scene and walking up to his father, only to see the painful expression on his face. "Dad couldn't talk," said George.

They all went into the house and Father Buehler, the pastor from Constance, came over. There would be no celebrations for George's birthday in 1951.

Dreesen was in Fordyce all day on April 8. He too was hit hard by the tragic loss of his friend. It was hard to believe that just a few months earlier Daniel had been home and enjoying life like everyone else. He was gone, but few details were given at the time about his death in battle.

According to accounts written by Michael Slater in his book on the 5th RCT, "Hills of Sacrifice", on March 19, the entire unit, including Steffen's Able Company attacked, pursuing Chinese soldiers through the rugged hills. They continued tough fighting, on the offensive for the next few days overtaking stubbornly held Chinese defensive positions.

One man in Steffen's company was wounded on March 22. On Good Friday, March 23, Chinese soldiers decided to thwart the advance with heated mortar fire. But the 5th RCT also had objectives to take more hills in front of them. Two men were killed and 12 wounded on that day trying to take Hill 814.

That night, the Chinese shelled the exhausted, miserable soldiers of the 5th RCT with mortar and artillery and even rushed King Company positions in the darkness. The next day, 49 soldiers from the unit were killed or wounded from arms fire and mortar shells.

On March 28 and 29, the fight took place over Hill 581 near Pochon around strong Chinese defensive positions not far from Seoul. Baker Company made it to within 100 yards of the hill's crest when a mortar exploded around the men and arms fire caught the soldiers of the company, including Steffen, exposed and pinned down on a hill with no cover.

Five from Baker Company were killed and wounded there on Hill 581, three from Charlie Company were wounded and two from Able Company, Steffen among the fallen.

Daniel died of his wounds on Apr. 1; the day after his fellow soldiers drove the Chinese back to the 38th parallel and installed a rough sign stating "38th Parallel - Courtesy of the 5th RCT".

A memorial service was held at Constance on Apr. 16, but it wasn't until October that his body made the solemn journey from Hill 581 back to Cedar County where he was buried in the secluded St. Joseph's cemetery.

Dreesen's wife, Rosie, is also Daniel's sister. She remembers that an army guard accompanied the body back home. She said the family went to Yankton where Daniel's body came in on the train.

They brought him to the Steffen home as was the custom and neighbors and friends visited the body and family at a wake service before burial. The whole time, the honor guard remained with Steffen's body.

Rosie remembers hiding behind the curtains in the house, even though she was 18 years old at the time. Father Kluthe told her, 'You can't hide from this', she recalls.

The story of Daniel Steffen was not unlike many other veterans who served in Korea. Cedar County alone lost 8 men in the war

It's still difficult after fifty years, for Dreesen to think about the Steffen story, not only because he lost his friend in the war but because he has his own war memories to deal with.

He was called into the service a year later and served in the trenches along the demilitarized zone at the 38th parallel in 1952 until the end of the war. Dreesen remembers how cold it was in Korea and he said the wind blew like it does around here.

Perhaps Daniel's story is best illustrated by the regimental history of his 5th RCT. The unit, commanded by General John Throckmorton and attached at the time Daniel served with the 24th Division, was called to fill gaps in the line again and again. Some members of the unit won the Purple Heart five times. Throughout the war, the unit lost 867 killed in action, 3188 seriously wounded, 16 missing in action and 151 taken prisoner of war. Over 4000 Purple Hearts were commissioned collectively to the men of the unit.

On July 27, 1998, a special memorial was unveiled at Arlington National Cemetery honoring the 5th RCT and their gallantry under fire in Korea. The inscription reads, "Our nation honors her sons and daughters who answered the call to defend a country they never knew and a people they never met."

For Steffen, though, a most fitting tribute to his valor and the bravery of his fallen comrades, is a humble marker, placed at his grave in a quiet country cemetery near his old home.

Introduction

No one fighting under the banner of the First Nebraska Infantry Regiment in the Civil War was actually born in Nebraska. The civilian soldiers who called Nebraska Territory their home in 1861 when the regiment began to organize came from Pennsylvania, New York, Ohio, Wisconsin, Kansas and Missouri among other states. They were German, Czech, Slovak, Irish and Scot.

They were farmers, merchants, laborers, skilled craftsman and hooligans. These men (and a woman as it turned out) were worldly in origin and as diverse as they come, but they were drawn together by the great desire to put down a rebellion that many felt threatened their country and territory.

The soldiers of the Nebraska Regiment weren't even citizens of a particular state in the Union. Nebraska Territory had no vote in electing Abraham Lincoln as President, nor did they have a voting member in Congress. Yet this country, albeit adopted, was dear to each of them and they sought to protect it from attacks of Confederate soldiers as well as Indian warriors.

Robert Ramsay Livingston, like his fellow Nebraskans, grew up someplace else. His family was of Scottish origin and he spent his primary years in Montreal, Canada.

He'd only lived in his adopted hometown of Plattsmouth for two years, but as a medical doctor, he was already a citizen well respected by the townspeople.

When Livingston rose to speak to the patriots of Plattsmouth on a fateful evening in an upper room of a grocery store in the spring of 1861, he did so to call on them to put their lives on the line for their country. The nation was on the verge of violence and Livingston was anxious to prove allegiance.

As a brave man of action, Livingston proudly wrote his name at the top of the list of army volunteers, effectively becoming the first man in Nebraska Territory to volunteer services in defense of the Union cause.

From that day forward, Livingston led his men and those of the regiment through the fires of Southern battlefields and back onto the Plains to protect Platte River settlements from Indian attack.

Over the past decade, I've researched Livingston's wartime leadership as well as the role the Nebraskans played in Grant's western army. I've pored over musty volumes of the Original Records of the Army, Adjutant General's Reports, Regimental records and histories, newspaper reports as well as some first hand accounts of activities surrounding the Civil War as it related to Nebraska and Nebraskans. After all the research of paper, I've come to appreciate, as I hope you will, the depth of mettle Livingston and all the Nebraska soldiers possessed as they faced enemy fire.

After the war Livingston went on to leadership roles in veterans' organizations, Masonic Society and the community as a whole. He was a railroad surgeon, Surveyor General for the state and mayor of his beloved Plattsmouth.

Yet Livingston is most remembered for his gallantry on the battlefield and his courage as he stood in front of his fellow Plattsmouth citizens and penned his own name at the top of a list of men, vowing to preserve their country.

So I offer this narrative of wartime stories in honor of Livingston and the men he led to battle, often firing their rifles, as General Lew Wallace would report after Fort Donelson in February 1862, in the face of enemy shot and shell as coolly as if on parade.

Chapter One

Who Takes up Arms in Defense of His Country

It was springtime in Plattsmouth. The sweet temperate winds of April swept easily down Main Street of the Missouri River village, located at the juncture where the wide, flat Platte River cascades into the Mighty Big Muddy. Oak trees along the river valley were beginning to show their leafy green dress amongst their gnarled old limbs.

The town physician, Robert R. Livingston, was busy not practicing medicine and seeing patients, but printing the weekly newspaper, the Platte Valley Herald. Being an educated man and having studied in New York, he was chosen to stand in as editor of the paper in the absence of the proprietor.

The breeze sifting through the open door of the printer's shop probably felt good on Livingston's brow as it lightened the heavy, stuffy air in the enclosed office. The presses were humming along when someone barged into the printing shop, interrupting Livingston at his adopted duty.

They shouted out the news. The U.S.steamer, Star of the West, had been fired on by rebels on Apr. 17 and it was captured by troops under Colonel Earl Van Dorn of the Confederate army near Indianola, Texas. Most historians agree that the American Civil War officially began five days earlier with the firing on and consequent surrender of Federal forces at Fort Sumter, South Carolina.

But it was the news about the Star of the West that caught the attention of Plattsmouth residents, especially their temporary newsman, Dr. Livingston. He stopped the presses and quickly wrote an article, calling for a meeting of loyal citizens to be held in the hall over the printing office.

The article was promptly printed into handbills and distributed throughout the city. Francis E. White was a just a lad, walking along Main Street when he saw a man distributing the handbills.

Small groups of men seemed very interested in the handbills, huddling around them and discussing the news, White recalled over half a century later. "With a boy's curiosity, I joined one of the groups, but did not fully grasp the subject under discussion," he remembered.

"Later on I learned that the war clouds that had been gathering for some time had broken, and that civil war was almost certain," he said.

"As soon after supper as I could get away, I started for the place of the meeting," said White. The printing office, a former general store, was located two blocks south of Main Street in a two story frame building. The first story had been the store and upper rooms were used for storage.

"I reached the place of meeting fairly early," he said. A fifer and drummer played solemn, martial music at the foot of the stairway on the north side of the building. The music made White's stomach churn as he realized the gravity of this meeting.

"A room with more determined men in it than I had ever seen before, all earnest men with serious faces, every move made and every word spoken showing determination, and a desire to meet the crisis, whatever it might be," he said.

Dr. Livingston called the meeting to order and wasted no time getting to the heart of the matter. The doctor was as White recalled, "a man above six feet in height, well proportioned, erect of figure and full of energy and force".

As he began to speak, White hung on every word Livingston uttered. "How his words thrilled me," he said.

He wrote, "My first real lesson in patriotism and how it penetrated to the very depths of my soul, and how deep my regret that this was a call for men, and I was only a boy!"

As Livingston appealed to the men to stand up for their country in the face of rebellion, he made one final plea saying, "I believe God will forgive a man's sins who takes up arms in defense of his country".

Then Livingston walked over to a little table and signed his name at the top of a piece of paper that would carry the names of Plattsmouth volunteers for service in a company of soldiers.

Livingston's action that night effectively made him the first man in Nebraska Territory to volunteer for the Union army. His fellow citizens followed suit, signing nearly enough men for a full company. Verna Leonard of Plattsmouth sent the original sign up sheet of volunteers to White after A. C. McMaken had found it among his old papers and shared it with her.

The civilians who signed up as volunteers that night wasted no time starting to drill as soldiers. They met on a vacant piece of land west of the Christian Church near Block 5 in the original city plat and immediately chose Livingston as Captain of the group. A.F. McKinney was selected First Lieutenant.

On April 27 when Livingston gave his first official order, he was still trying to sign up 100 able-bodied men to fill a company. Several men who had signed up earlier had to drop out due to poor health. Livingston's instructions, given to Third Lieutenant, A.C. McMaken advised, "…when procuring signatures, to disguese nothing from the men-state plainly that the country is in a state of war, and that the probabilities are we shall have to fight before long."

Livingston continued, "Disabuse everyone of the notion that there is either fun or pleasure in joining a military organization in such times as these." The Captain was plainly a level-headed, straight forward man and it appears that the men appreciated his style of leadership.

Shortly after being organized, the Plattsmouth company began drilling on the vacant lot west of the Christian Church. White watched the men in awe and enjoyed listening to the commands of the officers and to watch their marching and counter-marching. "How I longed to be a part of it all!" he recalled.

"What visions of warfare and glory floated through my young brain," he said. "As we could not go to war, the best thing we 'only boys' could do was to organize a company of our own, which we did, using wooden guns that a carpenter was kind enough to make for us."