Eulogy
Non sibi sed patriae. Latin for “not for self, but country”, and the unofficial motto of the United States Navy. Primum non nocere, or “First, do no harm”, the core belief of every person in the medical profession, whether they have taken the Hippocratic Oath or not. Whether he was aware of it or not, Chief Pharmacist's Mate Graham Carly Mahan lived by both of these sayings. As a sailor, he dedicated his life to serving his country. As a Medical Officer, he repaired, to the best of his ability, the wounds war had inflicted on his comrades. He was described by his commanding officers as hard working and soft spoken, diligent and intelligent. Someone you could depend on; a man who would always perform his duty with grace and efficiency. He demonstrated these qualities in the civilian conservation corps, where he worked as a teenager. In the second world war, he demonstrated them in Guadalcanal, and in Iceland. From June 6-June 9 of 1944, he demonstrated those qualities in Normandy. Graham Mahan did not storm the beaches of Normandy. He was stationed on the LST-314, and it was his duty, as well as the duty of every other medical officer on that ship, to convert the landing craft into a floating hospital. He worked tirelessly to tend to the wounds of those who fought on Utah and on Omaha, treating Allied soldiers and German prisoners of war alike, and in doing this, saw as much carnage as any of the soldiers fighting on the beaches. On June 9th, a German E-Boat sunk the LST-314 as it was making its second journey back to England, after off-loading cargo to Normandy. When the torpedoes hit, CPM Mahan was working at his station. That day, he and many of his ship-mates gave their lives so that others may survive. The memory of Graham was carried on by his parents, Isabella, the mother who raised three children in hard times and lost two of them to war, and Henry, the proud father who saw his oldest son carry out his legacy in the navy. He was remembered by his younger brother, John, who went on to raise his own family after the war, and his devoted wife, Virginia Claire, who accompanied him to his stations, from California to Virginia, and back. Now, that legacy is carried on by myself, by my teacher, and by everyone present here today. I never met Graham, but I feel that, on some level, I do know him. He was a child that grew up in a growing city, a boy who faced the challenges of Depression, and a man who witnessed the trials of War. He is someone who deserves to be remembered and thanked for his life of service and devotion. So on behalf of everyone here today, thank you, Graham. Your sacrifice is one that will be remembered. |
Reflection
The Normandy Institute was an incredibly powerful experience for me. One of the aspects of history that we really don't touch on in our classes is the personal one; how individuals deal with the events occurring in their time, and how the average person makes an impact. People sacrifice for their country every day, and while it may not seem significant at first glance, these sacrifices are incredibly important. The Normandy Institute allowed me to study someone who made the ultimate sacrifice for his country. Graham Mahan was one of thousands who fought and died for his country during a time of great need, and he was far from just a sailor. He was a person as well. This personhood gets lost in the textbooks and reports. In class you read about the casualties of World War Two and you're faced with a number, something cold and impersonal. What so many people logically know, but fail to actually realize, is that behind each number there is a name, and behind each name a person. A man, or woman, or child. And we fail to realize that all of these people have lives of their own. Graham Mahan wasn't just a sailor, or a medic, or a man with a rank and service number, and neither was any other man or woman who made a sacrifice for freedom. This institute finally allowed me to really believe that. I've made so many personal connections to World War Two on this trip, and I truly believe that I understand history in a way I never had before. |