I recently read an article concerning an iconic picture from the Vietnam War. The picture is of a wounded Marine lying unconscious on a tank surrounded by his wounded brothers-in-arms A celebrated book as well as a major museum exhibition, have told the harrowing tale behind the image of that wounded Marine. However, both of them got it wrong, and the true identity of that young man has finally been established beyond doubt these many years later.
The most interesting part of this story is the fact that no one really wanted to know the truth. The author of the book finally, less-that-graciously, admitted his identification of the Marine might have been wrong, but was standing by his book. The museum exhibit had long been closed. It seems that once ‘history’ has been written down or become part of family legend, no one wants to know what might be the more accurate version.
I found this to be true in two instances in my life ---- one amusing and one compelling. It was my first Thanksgiving as a new bride and along with other new Marine wives we were trading recipes on how to prepare this holiday meal. One of my friends insisted that the way to a tender turkey was to cut off the tail of the turkey before baking it. A number of us questioned her on this, and she finally contacted her mother to find out why this was the case. Her mother, who had prepared her turkey this way for years, called her mother to find out why. My friend’s grandmother apparently nearly died laughing on the phone as she revealed she had cut the end off of the turkey because during the Depression she did not own a pan big enough for the whole turkey. “Are you still doing that?” She asked between bouts of laughter. My friend and I had a good laugh as well, but she reported her mother was not happy with that bit of the truth. She had been known for her savory Thanksgiving turkeys, and had felt that the cutting of the bird was the secret of her success. The truth was not particularly welcome.
Many years later, I had another occasion in which the truth was not welcome. My father had been shot down in World War II while piloting a B-29 aircraft, flying The Hump from India to China. I had occasion to meet, for the first time, with the one other person who was a child of that plane, the other young crew members having been unmarried. As we traded notes, I found out that her mother had been a twin, and her twin’s husband had been on the plane as well. Thus one family lost two people in the air above Northern China as I had lost my father. At a family gathering I thought one of my father’s closest relatives would be interested in this piece of history, and told her of my recent discovery. She told me firmly that the men on the plane were the twins, not the wives, and literally turned her back on me. Her history had been written, and it was not to be disturbed in any way. I could see this foray into reality was very uncomfortable for her, and I immediately let it go. It was enough that I knew.
Thus, this is a warning to all of us to take history, especially family history, with a grain of salt. We need to be prepared to hear the truth about Great Uncle Habakkuk even though it may be counter to long held beliefs about him. History will out eventually, and it is best to be prepared for that fact.