On the last Monday in May, when Memorial Day arrives each year, I always remember the day Bernie and I were attending my cousin’s funeral at Arlington National Cemetery. James A. Palmer had been an Admiral in the U.S. Coast Guard, and this was my first visit to the historic national cemetery, our nation’s first. I was overcome with a sense of humility and pride to see 400,000 tombstones of veterans and their dependents lined up like soldiers, row upon row.

We were driving slowly behind my cousin’s casket which was carried on a Caisson driven oh so slowly by two horses when I noticed a section off to our left, and a tall white marble statue of a woman in a long cape and dress. Bernie and I stopped on the way back to examine this unique site. We found a bronze plaque beneath the statue read, “This monument was erected in 1938 and rededicated in 1971 to commemorate devoted service to country and humanity by Army, Navy and Air Force Nurses.”

The 11’ tall statue of white marble was created by sculptress Frances Rich in an art deco classicism style, and it represents the “Spirit of Nursing.” She seems to gaze reverently upon the 653 deceased nurses that lie before her.

I’d never met an army nurse until several years later, when I had the pleasure of meeting a nurse veteran at an American Legion Hall in Hampton Bays, where Bernie was speaking. I sat next to her in the audience and at first, she gave me pause. Here was a little bit of a gal, hunched over a wheelchair like a flower beat down from the rain. At second glance I noticed her wispy, white hair, how wave it lay, and the angle of her jaunty, red scarf, and I wondered if in her portrait I saw a trace of a style that once defined her as a pretty, young nurse. After Bernie was finished speaking, I moved closer to her and introduced myself. A little flower petal no more, she blossomed, turned toward me, shook my hand, and began to tell me about herself.

Mary Louise graduated from Mt. Sinai nursing school, went to college and nursing school, then joined the Army as a 2^nd Lieutenant and worked for a while at Pilgrim State Hospital, where she found it difficult dealing with soldiers with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. “They just threw themselves out the windows,” she said. “I knew that I couldn’t go on doing that, none of us were prepared. The war was on, with D-Day still ahead and the persistent problem of PTSD hadn’t been covered in nursing school, nor anywhere else, either, as far as I know.”

A sympathetic supervisor found her a spot with a unit of nurses from Indianapolis, who would be sailing from New York on the Leviathan to East Anglia, 80 miles north of London. She met the other nurses at the dock and was happy to hear her ship was the Leviathan because her mother had taken her to see the impressive ship enter New York on its maiden voyage years before. By the time they landed in England, the nurses knew each other well, and were attached to the 82^nd airborne, “That proud contingent of paratroopers that played such a pivotal role in the war,” she said.

“I’m a veteran and a widow of a veteran,” she added, “and I’m a member of the local VFW and the American Legion.” Mary Louise said the local paper had written an article about her. Oh, how wanted to learn more about her duties with the paratroopers, but time ran out. And as we left, I knew how lucky I was to have met this special lady, if only briefly; a woman who served her country during World War II and lived to talk about it.

Our war veterans, both men and women, have stories to tell that are a priceless part of our history, experiences that should be written down or recorded, lest they be lost forever.

On December 15, 2000, the U.S. Congress officially designated 3:00 p.m. local time on every Memorial Day, for all Americans, voluntarily and informally, to observe in their own way a moment of remembrance and respect, pausing from whatever they are doing for a moment of silence or listening to Taps.

The next time you watch a Memorial Day Parade, or hear Taps played, don’t forget to remember the nurses who played such a vital role in supporting our military personnel. That’s the least we can do.