So today, Monday, May 30th was just a normal Monday morning as I headed out for work. Like every weekday morning, I drove down the hill to Point Cruz — it was a clear morning. I could see Savo, Tulagi and the Floridas across the sound. I stopped for my morning coffee before circling the new monument to the Solomon Coast Watchers, then headed east across the Matanikou River, through Kukum — the beach and Iron Bottom Sound on my left the whole way — and on towards Llungga and Henderson Field.
These names likely mean little to most folks here at Daily Kos. I certainly never heard them before arriving here in January — at least not than I can remember. I taught US History and Government to middle schoolers for several years, but my curriculum only covered the Revolutionary and Civil Wars. My colleague took them through the World Wars in 8th grade. So, other than Roger’s and Hammerstein’s take on the ‘South Pacific’, I have to admit that, though conscious, like most Americans, of a place and a battle called “Guadalcanal”, I really didn’t know much about the war in the Pacific. (In sixth grade I remember the Safety Patrol bus driving around the Iwo Jima monument, and somehow I always knew JFK narrowly escaped a PT Boat episode — whatever a PT Boat was?)
But these names mean a lot to the 60,000 allied ground, naval and air forces who served here in 1942-43 and their families. Most days, they are just names of places I drive past… hell, Matanikou, Llungga, Poha & Tenaru (names of rivers — and battles & skirmishes on their banks) are House names at my school. But today, Memorial Day in the United States — but just another day in Solomon Islands — the ghosts of 7,000+ allied casualties (and 20,000-30,000 imperial Japan casualties) haunted me.
There are only a tiny handful of Americans permanently resident in the Solomons… we don’t even have an embassy here, our US Ambassador shared with Papua New Guinea and Vanuatu. And most of the Americans are out on other islands - canning tuna or translating bibles. So, as Head of the international school here, I guess I’m one of the ‘senior’ Americans on Guadalcanal.
Today, I was haunted — not in a scary or supernatural way — but in a preoccupied, melancholy way. Where was the parade? The 21 gun salute? The speeches and the honor guard? 7,000+ American heroes gave ‘the last full measure’ here. Men and boys — many as young as the kids I work with every day. Today, I was called by the ghosts of 70+ years ago to represent my ‘wantok’.
So, after work, today I drove up Skyline Drive for the first time since arriving here in January, and finally located the American Memorial. I was there all alone. I stood on the ridge, looking down over the Matanikou River (the ‘front’ from August to November, 1942) — looking out over Iron Bottom Sound — looking over Bloody Ridge and Henderson Field below. And I remembered.
According to the guest book at the Memorial, today… Memorial Day... I was the only one.
