A cluster of U.S.
soldiers struggles to hoist Old Glory on a Pacific-island mountaintop in the
final months of World War II. Now think
about this iconic American image. Can you name the men? Do you know where they
came from? Do you know what happened to them?
|
www.iwojima.com
flag raising at Iwo Jima; photo by Joe Rosenthal |
These young Marines and a Navy medical corpsman became
symbols as soon as U.S. newspapers published
Joe Rosenthal's photo showing them
lifting the U.S. flag atop Mount Suribachi, in the midst of a hellish battle on
Iwo Jima. What these young men did became immortalized in bronze, on postage
stamps and in history books. But for many, the men themselves became nameless,
forgotten, less than human.
People focused on the flag. Not the men. What is the lesson
for journalists? We take away people's humanity when we clump them together and
transform them into symbols.
Readers need for us to bring the forgotten alive by making
them human beings. James Bradley, the son of one of the flag raisers, brought
these young warriors back to life when he wrote the best-selling book "Flags of
Our Fathers" in 2000.
How many people in the communities we cover become "The
Forgotten" because we write about them as symbols? My list includes school
children, the elderly, soccer moms, the homeless and those young soldiers from
small-town America
who are 80 percent of the American dead in Iraq.
I saw one of these young soldiers return to his family recently when I flew
into Omaha, Neb. He was in a casket. Everything on that side
of the Omaha airport stopped when he arrived. Strangers peered out of the
windows to get a glimpse of his flag-draped coffin. Veterans saluted. Women,
who had no idea who he was, cried. Yes, including me.
A six-member honor guard transferred the casket from the plane to
the bier. His family welcomed him home. He left the airport with a police
escort, his family in tears.
When was the last time you told the story about such a young
soldier, his family, his friends, the people in his community? And what about
others in your cities or towns? When did
you last quote a school-aged child in a story about schools? How about a
teacher, or a parent? When did you last quote a commuter or a mom about the
ever-increasing gas prices?
People care about people. They relate to people better than
they relate to institutions, symbols, icons and monuments -- no matter how
prominent.
I love visiting the Iwo Jima memorial
adjacent to Arlington National
Cemetery in Arlington,
Va. Now, because of Bradley's book, I visit
men that I know by name. They are friends.
Harlan Block, 21, bends over, placing the bottom of the
flagpole in the rocks. His mom identified him only from his backside when the
photo first appeared. No one believed her. Next to him stands John Bradley, 21,
the most identifiable face in the photo. Bradley became a funeral director in
Appleton, Wis. He seldom spoke about the flag raising, or the war, or his
Silver Star.
Franklin Sousley, 19, holds a rifle. He knew he would never
return to his home in eastern Kentucky. Then comes Ira Hayes, 20, from the Pima
reservation south of Phoenix. The flag leaves his outstretched hands. In May 1946, Ira hitchhiked 2,600 miles from his
reservation to Weslaco, Texas,
to tell Harlan's dad that it was indeed his son in the world famous photo. It
took the U.S. Army another year to finally get the identification right.
From the photo, you barely see the hands of the last two: Rene
Gagnon, 19, Manchester, N. H., a former New England mill hand, and Sgt. Mike
Strank, 25, Franklin Borough, Pa. Mike always looked after his boys. You can
see his hand just above Franklin's, helping.
How many of them died in Iwo Jima? Mike, Harlan and Franklin perished, along
with nearly 7,000 other young Americans during 36 days of brutality, death and
fear in February and March of 1945.
Look at the people who have become symbols in your
community. Whose story do you need to
tell? Who needs his or her humanity returned? Who are your "Forgotten"?
