When I say we here at The NSP love telling your stories, I really mean it.
One of the things I like about this job is that you never know when you’re going to happen along one of those stories.
Case in point: this week’s story on Pvt. Fay Gene Teter.
Last Friday morning, our ad rep, Theresa Blackledge texted me. She said Jim Kuhl with the Eldridge VFW had stopped in and told her the VFW was going to be doing a military funeral at St. Ann’s. He didn’t have a lot of details, but he thought it might be something interesting, and if we had time, maybe someone could stop out at 10 a.m.
Mark was out of the office for the day, and it was a gorgeous morning for a drive, so I thought, “Why not?”
I pulled up by the cemetery and walked over, without any real expectations of what might come out of it. I stood close enough that I could hear Father Joseph Wolf, but far enough away that I didn’t seem like a weird interloper, snapped a few photos, and mostly watched the VFW guys.
There’s really something moving about a miliary funeral. I think they have a quiet dignity, and the rifle salute followed by the mournful sound of taps can send shivers down your back.
Afterwards, as the VFW members were collecting their brass to present to the family, I stopped over to say, “hi.” As the family were thanking the VFW, I started to overhear something about World War II and DNA identification, and I quickly realized this wasn’t just any military funeral.
It turned out to be one of the most improbable things I’d ever heard.
Pvt. Teter’s family members were incredibly gracious and forthcoming with the story, but they were also clearly so truly grateful to have him back. For nearly 80 years, he was all but gone. And now they have him, tangible and near, buried next to his mother.
Back at the office, I fired up Google, and VFW quartermaster Brad Striegel texted me a few other links about Teter. There was actually quite a bit of data to sort through, but there are also some very dedicated people out there, committed to ensuring that missing veterans don’t go unremembered. So, in addition to learning Teter’s story, I also got to learn about organizations such as History Flight and the Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency that are doing amazing work recovering missing veterans from all over the world.
Also, I had to brush up on some World War II history. Although I’d heard of battles in the South Pacific like Guadalcanal, I’d honestly never heard of Tarawa.
One of the links Brad Striegel sent me was about a film the Marines made called “With the Marines at Tarawa.” I watched it on YouTube; it’s about 20 minutes long and it’s on the U.S. National Archives channel with a bunch of other military films. The Marine that filmed it, Norman Hatch, literally had a gun in one hand and a 35 mm camera in the other, and he was as close as 15 feet away from the enemy at times.
It's about as grim and raw as you’d imagine. It’s certainly nothing an audience in the 1940s would have seen before.
As I watched, I was struck at the contrast between the battlefield and that Friday morning in the Long Grove countryside. It occurred to me how loud and terrifying Pvt. Teter’s last moments had to have been. How the last sounds he heard, far away from home, just 17 years old and alone, were almost certainly violent and jarring.
For nearly 80 years, he remained there, lost. For many of those years, the atoll was abandoned, and he was thought to be unrecoverable.
But then some people came along, determined to find him and reunite his remains with his loved ones.
And he got to come home, and it was quiet and peaceful. Just birds chirping and one or two cars breezing down St. Ann’s Road, unaware something completely remarkable had just happened.
Three rifle volleys and then a bugler’s call.
Taps has been used as a bugle call since the Civil War. Officially, it’s a military signal for lights out.
Unofficially though, it has lyrics. And while there are some variations, there is one particularly popular set of lyrics:
Day is done, gone the sun,
From the hills, from the lake, from the skies.
All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.
Go to sleep, peaceful sleep, may the soldier
or sailor, God keep. On the land or the deep, Safe in sleep.
Love, good night, must thou go,
when the day, and the night need thee so?
All is well. Speedeth all To their rest.
Fades the light;
And afar Goeth day,
And the stars Shineth bright,
Fare thee well;
Day has gone, night is on.
Thanks and praise, for our days,
'Neath the sun, Neath the stars, 'Neath the sky,
As we go, this we know, God is nigh.
Safely rest, Pvt. Teter.