Thoughts on the war to end all wars, mustard gas, Uncle Will, and remembrance.

Preface / Introduction
This Memorial Day for two years now since the clock struck eleven on the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918, the day of Armistice, there are no known World War I veterans extant. The last U.S. veteran, Frank Buckles, died in 2011 after celebrating his 110th birthday. He served as a U.S. Army ambulance driver in Europe, rising to the rank of corporal before the war ended. Then there was just one more Florence Green died in 2012 at age 110, just two weeks before her 111th birthday. She joined the Womens Royal Air Force in September 1918 at the age of seventeen. She went to work as a waitress in the officers mess at RAF Marham in eastern England, and was serving there when the war ended in 1918. With these two deaths, now they are all dead, in their millions, the men and women who fought to make the world safe for democracy, theirs the war to end all wars as President Woodrow Wilson earnestly asserted and solemnly pronounced to a world which, after its great sacrifices, wanted so very desperately to believe him, no one more so than William Edward Marshall, my Great Uncle Will.

Thoughts on the war to end all wars, mustard gas, Uncle Will, and remembrance.

Thoughts on the war to end all wars, mustard gas, Uncle Will, and remembrance.
Authors program note. This Memorial Day for the first time since the clock struck eleven on the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918, the day of Armistice, there are no known World War I veterans extant. The last U.S. veteran, Frank Buckles, died in 2011 after celebrating his 110th birthday. He served as a U.S. Army ambulance driver in Europe, rising to the rank of corporal before the war ended. Then there was just one more Florence Green died in 2012 at age 110, just two weeks before her 111th birthday. She joined the Womens Royal Air Force in September 1918 at the age of seventeen. She went to work as a waitress in the officers mess at RAF Marham in eastern England, and was serving there when the war ended in 1918. With these two deaths, now they are all dead, in their millions, the men and women who fought to make the world safe for democracy, theirs the war to end all wars as President Woodrow Wilson earnestly asserted and solemnly pronounced to a world which, after its great sacrifices, wanted so very desperately to believe him, no one more so than William Edward Marshall, my Great Uncle Will. How an Archduke changed the life of a gridiron hero, the most handsome man in Henderson County. The Great War, as its survivors dubbed it, began when a zealous young Slav nationalist named Gavrilo Princip shot the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the throne of Austria-Hungary, and his morganatic wife Countess Chotek at point blank range . They both died at once while Austrian authorities proceeded to break Princips body like so many pretzels. Thus did Princip, just 20, become the first man of millions who yearned for home and peace, finding premature death instead. And so he died starting the invidious process that killed tit which then had to kill tat who outraged, had to kill tit yet again. Why did he plan to murder, to assassinate The Heir? For only the highest and best reasons you may be sure reasons for which over 60,000,000 people around the world died, every day that trail of blood and mayhem emanating from the slumped body of His Royal and Imperial Highness grew broader and broader still. His dead eyes asked a single question, the question hitherto unquestioning millions would ask in their turn Why? The answer is to be found in part in William Edward Marshall, citizen of Stronghurst, Illinois, 21st state of the Great Republic. To understand World War I you must understand how Will Marshall, as everyone always called him, gave up everything he knew and valued to go fight on behalf of faraway people he didnt know and would never meet, knowingly risking life and limb, remember for total strangers. About Will Marshall. William Edward Marshall achieved the highest rank his country could confer the moment of his birth, for then, the very instant he was born he was Citizen of the Great Republic, a title, style and dignity unknown in most of Europe whose opulent princes had subjects, not citizens. Here Will Marshal, for all that he was not a prince or count, was better off and knew it. Thus his belief in the Great Republic, its whys and wherefores, came as easily as breathing. He was a free man in a free country, a man whose right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness was assured by the Constitution of the United States. These rights came from his relationship to God, not because of some calculated gesture of a Machiavellian prince who might later rescind what he rued to give. William Edward Marshalls rights were sacrosanct for him. and every other Citizen. This was http://www.20WaystoProfit.com Copyright Patrice Porter - 2013 3 of 7

Thoughts on the war to end all wars, mustard gas, Uncle Will, and remembrance. America in 1890 the year Will Marshall was born, the land of the free and the home of the brave. Football hero, farmer, respected man of peace. Will Marshall was called without irony the handsomest man in Henderson County. That and two bits will buy you pie and coffee, even his deflating father said. Will didnt mind the raillery; after all, tall, well made, fleet of foot and master strategist he was that most American of local heroes from whose agile moves came a lifetimes respect from those who would tear the goal posts down after they had seen Will Marshall run past them again. Such feats are cherished everywhere in America, but nowhere more than in the tiny hamlet of Stronghurst, Illinois; population still under 1000 souls in 1914 everyone of them knew what a good man Will Marshall was how hard-working, how public spirited, how well he must stand with his God. And so things might have continued but for the murderous meeting between an archduke on a sunny July day and a zealot determined to exterminate him. Will Marshall goes to war, to France, to his destiny. Will Marshall was not a warrior, not a man of marshal attitudes, uniforms, poses and gestures. Farmers, tillers of the land, bringing forth its bounty by their own incessant labor, seldom are. They know how difficult it is to create life, to spend any of their limited time on this planet destroying it. Will Marshall abhorred war, yet went to war, the greatest and most destructive war ever, because the Great Republic and its affairs needed him and that was that. The Yanks are coming. Thus, Will Marshall became part of the American Expeditionary Forces (AEF) and in due course found himself one of over one million citizen-soldiers stationed in France, over half of whom were at the front lines, including him. There as the increasingly desperate German imperial forces grew more desperate yet, considering, doing every single thing they could do to snatch victory from increasingly certain defeat, Will Marshall met his fate, in a cloud of poison gas. Mustard gas. Contrary to popular belief, gas as a weapon was first introduced by the French army. However it was the Germans with their customary organizational genius and chemical skills who perfected the process. For the defence and glory of the Fatherland anything, even the most horrid thing, was contemplated, considered and ultimately used. Some apologist somewhere would no doubt advance a comfortable rationale And so one ordinary day an ordinary German solider lobbed the mustard gas that sent William Edward Marshall, citizen, descendant of the great Chief Justice who helped shape the new nation, one of natures gentlemen, to his knees, brought low by the toxic beauty of gas; stealthy, silent, serene. But there, you see, is the rub. For gas is one of the cruelest weapons ever created. During the actual mustard gas attack its manifestations may not be seen, will not be seen for hours, even days. Then the gas you inhaled, perhaps without knowing it, became the pernicious agent of your end the gas rules you and decides whether you live or die, what manifestations and disabilities may be yours and torment you for years, for life. Thus, starting from the day he was gassed until the day he died, Uncle Will lived a life where his sight degenerated . Remedies were tried. Doctors consulted. Prayers by one and all given for his recovery, for he was a popular man. All to no avail. The effects of that gas cost him at once one eye. The second deteriorated year by year until in 1934 he could see nothing at all. Light, for him, had ceased to exist. http://www.20WaystoProfit.com Copyright Patrice Porter - 2013 4 of 7

Thoughts on the war to end all wars, mustard gas, Uncle Will, and remembrance. Uncle Will and Me. When I was growing up in the fifties, my family visited Stronghurst every so often. We never failed to visit Uncle Will and his charming wife Alma. My father made sure we behaved properly. He was especially keen on the handshake, Firm, NOT limp! And how to walk across the parlor properly, so Uncle Will knew how many steps you took. In this way he calculated how tall you were and how much youd grown since the last visit. The room was quiet, sound muted, light filtered. Uncle Will sat in a great, sturdy chair, its size necessary to contain the football player of old. I looked closely at his face; this was the face of a man of resignation and calm acceptance. He remained handsome, even noble right until the end. He never complained. Never said a word about that day so long ago. Never was anything but gentle, polite, good humored and glad to see you. He had fought his war, done his bit, paid the terrible price and could look the world in the eye, his pride deep, profound, abiding. The Great Republic has besought his help. He had given in full measure, and for him it was Over, over there, not a bitter reality revisited daily. Now not only Uncle Will but every veteran of the Great War is gone. Now they no longer die by thousands each day but, far worse, are forgotten in their thousands each day; men and women whose lives were utterly and completely committed to us, now not even a moments thought by us. Yet we are all the children of their unequalled gifts and should always be glad and glad to say so. They ask so little now, but we begrudge them even that, satisfied to take, satisfied to give them nothing, not even heartfelt recognition of our eternal debt. May God forgive us. Authors closing note. Like so many of his buddies, Uncle Will loved Over There, a jaunty tune written by George M. Cohan in 1917.. Find it in any search engine. Turn up the sound and remember. By Dr. Jeffrey Lant About the Author Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today at http://www.20waystoprofit.com/associates

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Thoughts on the war to end all wars, mustard gas, Uncle Will, and remembrance.

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