"We pray thee..."   These words made an extremely profound impact on me as I visited the cemeteries for thousands of American and German soldiers whose eternal resting places are just a few miles apart of the former battle lines south of Rome and far from their home and their loved ones.  I used to think of history solely in terms of  black and white statistics.  Five thousand Allied soldiers died in Normandy on D-Day; eighty thousand Japanese civilians died in a fire bomb raid on Tokyo; three million one hundred thousand German soldiers names listed in a graves registry...numbers pure numbers.  

When I was younger, American history was rather simple and our country's fate was obviously predestined.  We were always the 'good' guys and anyone who fought against us the 'bad' guys.  The bad guys got what they deserved.  Simplistically, in 1776 and in 1812 the British were bad guys; in 1836 the Mexicans were the 'evil doers' and in 1861 so were the Confederate states.  The American Indian tribes were evil as both our TV and history texts presented and the Spanish needed to be attacked for sinking the USS Maine.   I was a stubborn 'hawk' during the Vietnam war, blindly accepting statements by our government about the reasons for the war and our 'acceptable' casualties.

Later, I found out the USS Maine was destroyed by an accidental internal explosion caused by coal dust during refueling, not by Spanish treachery.  The Mexicans provided no real cause to be attacked by the Texans.  We broke almost every treaty with the Indians and virtually hunted them to extinction.  Both sides in our Civil War were arguably correct in their convictions.  However, it was the revelations about Vietnam, the falsehoods and the distortions from the highest levels in our government, that disturbed me the most. Perhaps this is the reason that the Vietnam memorial, the black slab listing the names of the dead, has such a strong emotional impact on those who fought in our country's cause when they visit to see and to touch the names of their fallen comrades.

On July 5, 2001, I visited the American Military Cemetery in Anzio Italy  (containing 7,861 graves, 3,724 missing in action) and took these pictures as a remembrance to those who gave their lives for my freedom against the Nazis.  I discovered that servicemen from every state in our Union and the District of Columbia are represented here and there were 20 instances of brothers, buried side by side.  Brothers In Arms is the centerpiece sculpture at the American Cemetery and is in the courtyard of the small chapel.  It depicts a soldier and a sailor, walking arm in arm in a common goal against the enemies of freedom.  They are stepping out as if in a great crusade and knowing their importance to us, the American people.  It is a very upbeat portrait of our servicemen and one that is designed to show that these men died with their friends and their comrades by their side.

 On my way to the chapel,  I happened to stop in front of one of the graves to read the inscription.  I was stunned to read my surname "Cunningham".  His full name was John M. Cunningham  from Missouri.  He was with the 141st Infantry Regiment 36th Infantry Division and died on May 30, 1944 having been awarded both the Silver Star and the Purple Heart (posthumously).   I never knew him.  Neither did I know Robert Cunningham, a 2nd Lieutenant in the Army Air Force (AFF) from Illinois from the 91st Reconnaissance Squadron also buried in the same section of the cemetery.  Nor did I know Calvin (2nd Lt, AAF 464th Heavy Bomber Squadron) or Matthew (SSgt, AAF 515th Heavy Bomber Squadron)  who were both  listed as missing in action.  I looked up from Johns' marker and saw a bouquet of flowers to another fallen soldier, who also had made the ultimate sacrifice.  These were no longer statistics from a dull history book. Rather, I was looking at each grave marker as a remembrance of the loss of an individual whose life was painfully cut short.  Each death shattered at least one family, a grieving mother and/or wife and perhaps even a small child who the soldier never got the opportunity to hug.  I was surprised to find that even after all these decades, some family members would come to visit and to mourn those who lie here.  It was a bright, sunny day.  The cemetery was very peaceful, with each blade of grass carefully trimmed by large John Deere lawn tractors as a gentle breeze blew off the Mediterranean Sea.  I trusted that the families would have some solace from the fact that their sons, their brothers or their fathers fought the good fight and gave their all for us to have freedom and liberty.  Even so, I stopped; I cried.

I discovered that there was another cemetery on the road to Rome, in Pomezia, where the German solders were laid to rest.  I went there a few days later to see how the relatives of those 'evil doer' Nazis remembered their war dead and was again stunned by what I saw and what I felt.

That day was dark and gloomy -  befitting the atmosphere within the German cemetery for these were the servicemen who died for a regime that was responsible for wars of aggression and the deaths of millions of people.  There was little solace for the families of these men.

Unlike the neat and well manicured American cemetery, whose design and upkeep are paid for by the American military, this little plot was funded and maintained by an organization set up by the families of those who lost their loved ones.  Germany was in financial ruin at the end of the war and it was up to the individual families to find funds to remember their dead.  There were no neat, one person per grave markers.  Some markers tried to identify up to ten soldiers on one plaque inscribed on both front and back, as they were buried one on top of the other.  There are a total of 27,443 souls buried here.  Many markers had multiple lines of  inscriptions "Ein Deutcher Soldat"(a German Soldier) or "Zwei Deutchen Soldaten" (Two German Soldiers); these the unknown soldiers of Germany.

I saw a large Catholic votive candle, just lit.  I have no idea if it was for Rudolf, who just turned 20, or Werner, also 20, or perhaps for Alfred, the oldest at 24.  One of their families was obviously Catholic; their relative was probably just a soldier who was doing his duty for the Fatherland just as John was doing for America.

However, the monument to these soldiers has a very different tone as it was commissioned by the relatives of those who died.  This is in definite contrast to the Brothers In Arms.

Both the soldier and the airman have a mournful look, knowing that they will never see their family or the Fatherland again.  On the left, the airman's wife or perhaps already his widow is trying to console him with her hand on his shoulder while their child grasps at her arm.  From the right side, the angel of death is reaching out to claim this soldier who is looking away with a vacant stare, helmet in hand.   The unfinished look of the sculpture is very much in keeping with the prematurely terminated lives of these men.  The relatives can not take consolation in the fact their loved ones died for a 'just cause', rather these soldiers died needlessly for a leader who waged a war of aggression, disregarding their welfare and that of the country they served.  The German soldiers here were no less brave than our American soldiers.  

War is an extreme and violent act of political will.  The individual soldier does not decide when and if he will fight.  Yet, each is willing to do his duty for his country and, in this case, each man here paid the ultimate sacrifice for his country's cause.  The 27,443 men who lie here placed their trust in their Commander In Chief, Adolph Hitler.  Their trust was betrayed and they paid the price with their lives.  Much as I cried for our dead, I could not help but stop and cry for these men too.  They were also the victims of the same war of aggression.

What prompted me to finally write this story?  Our servicemen and our servicewomen, some currently in harms way, have placed their lives in our trust and that of our Commander In Chief.  They expect that he will not not sacrifice their lives in vain   We owe these men and women our gratitude for our freedom.  I think that each of their lives is very valuable, much more than any material resource.  Each life that is extinguished, such as the 23 year old Hopi Indian single mom killed this year leaving behind two small children, leaves both pain and anguish that can never be totally extinguished.  We need to protect our freedom; we also need to protect our troops from those who would harm them both from without and from within.  May their sacrifice always be acceptable!