MEMORIAL DAY FOR THOSE WHO SUFFERED

Tags

Abu Ghraib, Albemarle, AndersonVille, Argonne Forest, Bagram, Blackshear, Camp Bucca, Camp Chase, Camp Delta, Camp Douglas, Camp Ford, Camp Pinckney, Changsong on the Yalu, Charlottesville, Danville, DAR, David Kennedy, Dysentery, Florence Stockade, Fort Delaware, Fort Pulaski, Kangdong, Lost at Sea, Medal of Honor, Memorial Day, MIA, Ohio Calvary, P'yong -yang, POW, Providence Spring, Pukchin, Sargeant York, Valor, Winchesterr

My thanks to Stephanie Lane who posted one of the clearest messages on what it means for others to suffer in our name. Thank you, once again, Stephanie for the inspiration to add some of my own feeling. Please visit Stephanie’s post linked below. The following photo is from her post.

http://stephanielane2012.wordpress.com/2012/05/24/in-memory-andersonville-ga/ 

A MEMORIAL

It was two full days before Memorial Day,

“Decoration Day” as we children would say,

It was necessary that I check my old folk’s grave,

Clean up the stone, trim grass and stay brave.

 

And when I was through I looked far around,

There were many stories that lay in the ground,

I can’t tell you, personally, that I knew them true,

But I have some time to tell you about a few.

 

There is Richard, “Died in nineteen-forty three,”

The memorial words say he had been “Lost at Sea,”

And there is Jason, “Jay Bedford laid here to rest,”

Also written “He fell in the French Argonne Forest.”

 

York, Holderman – – – they and Whittlesey too,

Also fell there, other heroes, not simply just a few.

“Medal Of Honor” deep chiseled on each stone,

All men of valor, everyone made of flesh and bone.

 

There are Prisoners Of War many never returned,

Bones in an ash pit, remains twisted and burned,

Others came back, with many experiences unspoken,

Memories horrible, personalities temporarily broken.

 

The Andersonville horror spoken of so eloquently,

By “David Kennedy, Ohio Calvary”, firm yet gently,

“It takes seven men to make a shadow – Dear Statesman,”

Starving prisoners you never see, do you really hate men?”

 

Dysentery, water rare, leaves skin and bone,

Twelve thousand died only 460 “unknown,”

Providence Spring broke the “Dead Line Gate,”

Clearly marked now, but then; too little, too late.”

 

Charlottesville, Albemarle, and Winchester too,

In the Revolution were three, to name only a few,

Union’s Camps; Douglas, Chase, Fort Delaware,

Elmira Prison, a disaster, no one seemed to care.

 

Hell-hole, Andersonville, with daily burning sky,

Outdone by Blackshear, Danville, and Fort Pulaski,

Camps Pinckney, Ford, and the Florence Stockade,

Through human waste and bodies, one had to wade.

 

Allied camps, Axis Camps and UN Prisons,

Strange sounding names, unforgettable visions,

Korean camps named “Changsong on the Yalu,”

P’yong-yang, Kangdong, Pukchin to name a few.

 

Continue; Bagram, Camp Bucca, and I am afraid,

Camp Delta, internment, shame at Abu Ghraib,

As I continue my walk through the cemetery so green,

There are many more reminders everywhere to be seen.

 

There is “Bill” with a flag, “Joseph” remembered by DAR,

And a memorial for Jaime Green with a six pointed star,

A crucifix on the majority but everyone donated in equal,

Our heros, our POWs, and our MIA’s were all people.

 

There are two sides to every war and story,

They seem to start with power, “For Glory,”

But people who died, or suffered, in prison camp,

Remind us a State’s ego we never rubber stamp.

 

© Copyright – Waldo Tomosky

JOHN BESSAC’S TIES TO FRANCE ARE SEVERED

Tags

Aaron Squire, Anah Bessac, Anah Nichols, Baptiste, Barte, Bertrand, Canadian French, Canadian Indians, Captain Aaron Squire, Chenango River, Chenango Valley, George Park, Jersy City, Lost at Sea, Martel, New York Harbor, Protestant, Quercy, Tories

John Bessac, prior to his move to the banks of the Chenango River, had sent letters to France.  He received letters from his friend Barte and his brothers Bertrand and Baptiste. John even received a nice letter from his father inquiring about his well-being and informing John that he should come home.

John had not, to this point, told anyone about his marriage and his children. Probably with good reason; he was not sure how his family would accept his wife Anah, a Protestant, into the family. John decided that at fifty years old it was about time to face up to this difficult problem.

John sat down and wrote a letter updating the family about everything that had happened since his brother Baptiste had departed America. Included in this short history were his businesses as a merchant in Jersey City, the raids of the Tories, his movement to Hudson, New York and his circuit trading with the Canadian French and the Indians of Niagara. He informed them that he was now living as a farmer in the Chenango Valley.

John saved the news of his marriage and children until the bottom of his letter. He told them of his wonderful wife Anah, about her father Colonel Nichols, and of course his eight children. He informed his father that although he had married a Protestant he would remain a true and faithful servant to the church.

All communications from his relatives in France ceased after that. John was puzzled because his father had, in previous communications, assured John that he was dearly missed at home. John continued to write Baptiste and Bertrand but without results.

John was afraid that his mother had died. He was sure that if she were alive she would prevail upon his father and brothers to respond to his letters. His only thoughts were that she had passed from this earth and that his father forbade his brothers from writing to him because he had “united his destiny with a heretic.”

Finally, in 1822, he tried one more time. The letters were given to his son-in-law, George Park, for delivery. George, a meticulous diarist, made note of the date and addresses on the two envelopes.

For France.

     Messieurs Jean & Baptiste Bessac

          en Quercy.     Martel

 

For France.

     A Monsier le Cure on autre PasteurEcclesiastic de la Parousse de Montvalant.

     en Quercy.          Martel.    

 

The two letters were entrusted to Captain Aaron Squire of Norwalk, Connecticut. Captain Squire was the master of a vessel headed for Nantz, France. He was instructed to place them in the post office upon his arrival. The ship, the crew and Captain Squire were never heard from again after leaving the New York Harbor. They had been lost at sea.

John’s immediate family was all he had remaining. His wonderful wife Anah and the eight children gave him great joy.

And, of course, the mountains and river that he had come to so dearly love.