Sam Damon addresses his fellow Nebraskans
at a memorial dedication in Walt Whitman
in the fall of 1945…

“I hope you’ll forgive me if I sound a little confused.  Five short days ago I was in Japan, walking along the shore of the Inland Sea.  It used to take five days to drive from here to Big Spring in a buckboard, when I was a boy … I’ve been away a long time – almost thirty years – and the world has shifted under my feet.  Under all our feet.  It is not the world we knew in 1916.

You have asked me to assist in the dedication of this memorial; and I am greatly honored. But I know you will understand if I avoid the use of words like gallantry or valor or glory. I will leave them to those who have not had to add up the ledger of violence and misery. My own heart is too full of losses today. We are assembled here to honor the men whose names are inscribed on this tablet. Let us, then, do them the simple honor of honesty. This war was a long, lonely, dirty job, as these men seated here behind me can attest. They fought it with courage and fortitude and the hope of better days, and what they did cannot and will not be forgotten. But there is nothing glorious about killing one’s fellow man, or being killed by him, or passing many, many days in hatred and misery and fear. And whoever says it is a matter for glory lies in his teeth.

We like to say that war is cruel. But no one knows how cruel it is – how deeply, monstrously cruel – unless he has himself walked through the fire and felt it sear him. The men recorded on this tablet have done that. Many of them died horribly, some of them needlessly. Yes, needlessly. Because what is most hideous about war is its waste: destruction of goods and homes, waste of life and hope and that the dream of individual dignity we cherish as the particular achievement of America. A country’s treasure is in its young men, and their loss is terrible beyond measure because it is irreparable. It is as shocking as the loss of innocence, or self-respect. And more often than not it is the good man who goes: the large act, the spendthrift heart. The medic who goes out to bring in the wounded man, the automatic rifleman who covers his patrol’s withdrawal, the officer trying to prevent panic, the gunner who throws himself on the grenade menacing his friends.

There they are, arrayed on the face of the stone.  All that is left of their eager faces, their dreams, their inviolable souls. They are dead now. They were singularly trusting. They asked no collateral on the prompt surrender of their lives, they demanded no social privileges, no distinctions, no seats of power of influence as they walked steadily into the valley. They demanded nothing. What about us, the beneficiaries of such profligate bounty? Will we be so callous as to scheme and despoil for these things again – and mock their death, their slow, immeasurable agony?

Power.  We have it now. In our two hands. A new world, a clean slate. These young men have made the down payment on it – and it was a bitter payment, I can assure you. Bitter as gall. And they did not make that payment for a world of rockets and bombs and barbed wire, or for a world of overseas markets and a favorable gold balance and the wolfish gutting of what we are pleased to call the underdeveloped nations. Old friends, we can build a new Jerusalem – but we will reach only what we seek.

Let us remember, then. They would want us to remember – if only because it may cause us to strengthen our resolve not to sow the dragon’s teeth again. The naked sword we hold so proudly is two-edged: it is as dangerous for the wielder as for the recipient.

We stand at an immense fork in the road. One way is the path of generosity, dignity and a respect for other races and customs; the other leads most certainly to greed, suspicion, hatred and the old, bloody course of violence and waste – and now, God help us, to the very destruction of all the struggles and triumphs of the human race on this earth. My old friends and fellow townsmen: which will it be?

Forgive me, if you can, for so somber an address on this beautiful September day, when the whole land echoes with cries of triumph; but I am weighed down with losses – I am constrained to cry, like another soldier sick of slaughter and folly: The weight of this sad time we must obey; Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say …”

Sam Damon’s Officer’s Code of Conduct

1. Leadership & Bravery

• Lead from the front whenever possible
• Make personal sacrifices
• Make difficult decisions
• Take on enemies and challenges regardless of size

2. Loyalty

• Be a patriot, motivated only by flag and country
• Hold the needs of the enlisted man in the highest regard
• Never forget the men who died or were wounded while under your command
• Never abandon a friend

3. Honor

• Never go back on your word
• Never use your rank or position to better your circumstances

4. Professionalism

• Commit yourself to a life of learning

5. Forthrightness

• Speak truth to power
• Speak what you feel, not what you ought to say

6. Humanity

• “Act with honor and hope and generosity, no matter what [the lot in life] you’ve drawn”
• Be humble in all things
• “Pass your days as a good man”
• Be racially and religiously tolerant in your beliefs

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