Dad considered it an honor to play his trumpet for freedom

It's hard for me to imagine, but my serious-minded dad was once the charismatic leader of the Davis High School dance band. According to my mom, Gorin Steed was quite a trumpet player.

All that changed when they married after his first year at Weber College. No more dance band — he had to earn a real living.

Their lives changed even more a few years later when Dad joined the Navy during World War II. He was assigned as a radio man on the USS Lindsey, a destroyer in the Pacific.

Destroyers were deployed close to island shores to cover combat troops as they landed on the beaches. Each conquered island was one less stepping stone for the Japanese and one more for the United States.

As a result, destroyers were a choice target of Japanese kamikazes. On April 12, 1944, the Lindsey was swarmed by kamikaze planes, and two struck Dad's ship.

In his words, this is what happened next:

"I was on the bridge in the radio room taking messages. The second plane that hit the ship was headed for the bridge, but our guns knocked one of the wings off. It then hit the twin gun mount on the front of the ship and ignited about 500 rounds of 5-inch ammunition. The deck of the ship twisted upward and protected the bridge where the radio room was located. That saved my life."

The destroyer miraculously stayed afloat even though 60 feet of its bow had been blown away; 57 men were killed and another 57 wounded. Towed first to the island of Kerama Retto and then to Guam for temporary repairs, the Lindsey then undertook a dangerous journey to Hawaii, then through the Panama Canal to Virginia for refitting.

It was a tender mercy for us that my dad came home unlike the more than 400,000 Americans who did not. I will never forget standing at the Hamm Cemetery in Luxembourg looking at the sobering sight of 8,411 white crosses lined up row after row marking graves of Americans who died there. I understand Normandy has the same heart-stopping effect.

When Memorial Day was scheduled on a Monday, it became a three-day weekend and the gateway holiday to summer. Over time, the focus of the day changed from one of appreciation for those who gave their lives to one of. "Party on, dude."

In May 1999, in an act of national unity, Congress established the National Moment of Remembrance. Everyone was to stop at 3 p.m. for one minute no matter where they were or what they were doing and observe a true Memorial Day remembrance.

Like many returned servicemen, Dad had a lot of nightmares when he first returned. I don't know whether it was the war that sobered him or just choosing other interests, but he never played his trumpet much while I was growing up.

However, I do remember him practicing and then playing taps at the Farmington Cemetery each year until we moved to New Mexico when I was 16. He considered it an honor to stand and play those poignant notes for all who gave the ultimate sacrifice for freedom.

e-mail: sasy14@gmail.com