In Memory of Gordon Bunker II, 1923 – 1985

There’s a National Cemetery in Santa Fe, New Mexico. I have driven by it countless times and each time have been moved by what I see. There are hundreds of tomb stones, all white, lined up in precise rows covering a hillside. The order of it is haunting, in such stark contrast to the madness we call war. For some, there is satisfaction in this. To me the graveyard is a poignant reminder of how fallible we are and the horrible things we do to each other as a result.

My dad, Gordon Bunker II fought as a pilot in World War II, Korea and Vietnam, flying B-17’s bombing Germany and cargo and troop transport missions in later conflicts. He hardly had a thing to say about his participation in the wars, but did tell me how troubled he was one particular Sunday morning flying high above a German city – Hamburg, possibly Dresden – and dropping tons of bombs. Looking out the window he got thinking about people down there at that moment were likely getting out of church. He was visibly disturbed in telling me this. It had to be the tip of an iceberg, the rest of which he carried in privacy.

The wars go on. Some believe certain killing is just. Whether we agree or not, we all pay dearly and the costs reach far beyond the obvious deaths and dollars. There are the lasting effects of violence on the surviving victims and perpetrators, in so many cases squelching their life potential; and perhaps the greatest is violence perpetuates violence. Human nature is a funny thing. It encompasses the very best and worst of what we are capable of doing and being. We all seem to be intelligent enough to know, at least on some level violence is bad, yet we lack the will to stop it.

Today in remembering my dad, I hope I can exert my will over the small corner of my nature that is violent. I hope others make a similar effort. In doing so, some day, perhaps a long long time from now we will not have war.

Gordon Bunker