Please...Walk on the Grass
On March 18th, 1945, Private William D. McGee, a medical aid man in the 304th Infantry Regiment, made a night crossing of the Mosel River in Germany with his unit in an effort to capture the town of Mulheim. When two of his comrades were wounded crossing a minefield, Pvt McGee voluntarily entered the minefield to save their lives. After carrying one man to safety, he returned for the second. McGee stepped on a mine and it exploded. Despite his injuries, he ordered his fellow soldiers not to rescue him and risk their own safety. Pvt McGee died the next day from his injuries and was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor.
Flash forward 78 years. It’s spring break for our two 8th-graders and we’ve decided on a trip to Europe—our first return to the continent since we moved away from Germany almost fifteen years ago. Matt and Josh have never been there.
Our daughter is stationed overseas in the service and we’re meeting her in Luxembourg, then relaxing in the Belgian countryside before she and my wife will run the Paris Marathon together.
It’s in Luxembourg, at the American Cemetery and Memorial visitor center where we read about Pvt McGee’s story. Our sons study the large maps displaying the WWII battlefields in Europe and learn where their grandfather navigated his B-17 across the English Channel, and where their great-grandfather dropped bombs from his B-25, flying north from Italy to Germany, low-level though the Alps.
The maps are interesting, but after hearing about Pvt McGee, Matt and Josh want to see his grave. We scan the crosses, looking for the gold emblem marking a Medal of Honor internment. Behind us, we hear a voice in broken English.
“Please. Please walk on the grass.”
I feel guilty. I’m unable to speak French and the security guard is obviously doing his best to keep our family off the immaculate green grass surrounding the markers.
“Sorry, sorry,” I say. “We’ll stay on the walkways.” Matt and Josh tuck in behind me, not wanting to be the ones in trouble.
“No.” The guard shakes his head. “You don’t understand.” He points out to the sea of markers, and I realize his English is not broken at all. “You cannot pay them respect for what they have done from this walkway. You must walk on the grass to see their graves.”
And we do. We find Pvt McGee’s marker and talk about his story. We find another Medal of Honor recipient Sgt Day G. Turner, and recall his citation describing how his 9-man squad captured 25 enemy soldiers after losing 6 of their own because Sgt Turner refused to surrender. We pause at the marker of Harry P. Palmer, from Colorado. We don’t know Palmer’s story, but we talk about what it would be like to know someone from our state who died in battle.
Our boys’ memories of London Bridge, the Eiffel Tower, and an awesome Indian restaurant in Belgium may eventually fade. I don’t think they will forget their visit to the Luxembourg American Cemetery.