On August 26, 1970, my parents and their families stood on the grounds of the Salt Lake Temple taking pictures after my parents were sealed for time and all eternity in the House of the Lord. Dad had recently returned from a six week summer training camp at Fort Lewis, Washington with the Army Reserve Officer Training Corps and Dad and Mom would spend the first few years of their marriage in the United States Army.
As they stood on the temple grounds, half way around the world Dad’s cousin, Dwight Preston O’Brien, was serving our country in the 196th Light Infantry Brigade in Vietnam. Operation Elk Canyon had been launched two months earlier in an attempt to clear guerrilla strongholds from the Quảng Tín Province. On that summer day, Dwight was among the soldiers on a CH-47 cargo helicopter transporting men and ammunition that was hit by enemy fire killing 30 men, including Dwight.
I never knew Dwight and don’t remember his father well, but I love his mother and his siblings.
Dwight was the third of Aunt Myrtle and Uncle Mike’s sons to be drafted and to serve during the Vietnam War. The family was participating in the West Virginia State Fair held just a few minutes from their home when the officer arrived to share the crushing news of Dwight’s death. They were not ones to speak much of their pain but I often heard Aunt Myrtle share her faith in God and His plan. The Savior of the world knows us, He knows our suffering. “Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee. Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands;” (Isaiah 49:15-16)
We don’t deserve the gift of His life and the freedom and agency His suffering provides us. Yet He gave His life to grant us peace in our turmoil and hope for everything we cannot mend or heal. Likewise, we gratefully acknowledge that we do not deserve the unprecedented freedom and opportunity that are ours and we reverently honor those who have served, fought, suffered and like Him gave their all for us.