Let me tell you about my Great Uncle Keith, who died in the Battle of Belleau Wood on June 12, 1917 and why he is not a loser.
William Keith Ross was born in 1900 and grew up in a small farming town in southern Indiana near the Ohio River. He was the third oldest of 11 kids and from a very early age he worked in the fields to help support his family.
In 1915, the family moved into Aurora and he went to work in a coffin factory for 17 cents an hour to help pay for the family home. In December, 1917 he enlisted in the Marines.
After basic training, he was sent to Quantico for additional training. Private Ross was assigned to a rifle company with the 2nd Battalion 5th Marines and was sent into combat in the Argonne to defend against a German invasion.
The 2/5 still exists. They are based in Camp Pendelton and their motto is “Retreat Hell,” a shortened version of the response a unit commander gave when told by a French officer to retreat. The full quote is “Retreat Hell, We Just Got Here.”
I am not sure why, but most of the men in my family write poetry. Here is a poem that Uncle Keith wrote called The Ideal of A Marine. It’s about helping fallen comrades. Yeah. (This is from a book my great grandfather put together while he was bedridden in the last months of his life. It’s got a couple of typos.)
On June 15, 1917 Keith Ross was listed as missing in action. Six months later, his death date was confirmed as June 12. Cause: small arms fire.
He was buried in the cemetery at Lucy le Bois, Aisne and after the war was transferred to plot A, row 5, grave 81 at the Aisne-Marne American Cemetery at Belleau.
His death, just a month shy of his eighteenth birthday, was deeply felt in my family, of course, but also in Aurora, where he was the first casualty of the war. The American Legion post there, which was founded 100 years ago is named in his honor.
Uncle Keith followed in the footsteps of his grandfather, my great great grandfather Jasper Ross, who enlisted in the Union Army and saw horrific combat and survived a severe injury at the Battle of Stone River in Tennessee.
Here’s his picture and the piece of metal that nearly killed him. Jasper Ross became a postmaster, civic leader and lived a good, long life. He died in 1927.
I know all this because my family has done a good job of keeping records and we’ve had a family reunion for 98 years running with all the artifacts and pictures on display.
These include a lot of photos of the trip Keith’s mother Kate took to France to visit his grave, which of course was covered in great detail by the local newspaper.
There is a deep reverence in my family for this man’s sacrifice and service. He inspired my grandfather, who served on an aircraft carrier in the Pacific theater.
Recently, one of my cousins discovered a box of letters my grandparents wrote during the war. They are a beautiful insight into their lives and the times.
My grandmother raised six kids on wartime rations. I spent a lot of time with her when I was a little kid. She could cut through bullshit like no one I’ve ever met. She almost lost her husband in the the Battle of Leyte Gulf when his ship was struck by a Kamikaze.
My grandfather’s letters, usually written after a meal while sitting near the fantail, are incredibly romantic. He really missed her.
Like his older brother, Uncle Keith, my grandparents’ two oldest boys, my father and his brother, enlisted right out of high school.
The war was over by the time my father’s destroyer crossed the Atlantic and at 18 he saw the ruin of war in England and Italy. He’s 92 now and has been writing down his memories and, of course, a poem or two. This is his ship.
In an essay he recently wrote, he said his father believed it was everyone’s duty as a citizen to serve in the military and, at some point, to run for public office. (I’m not so sure that last one is a good idea for some people.)
I’ve haven’t done either of those, but I have a deep respect for those who do and I know in my heart that the reason I’m a lifelong journalist is that the sense of duty to community runs so deep in my family.
Part of that duty is to hold the powerful accountable and to their duty to the people who serve this country. That’s why I wanted to tell you this story — to stand up for my Uncle Keith long dead, a fallen Marine unable to speak about what his sacrifice means.
He inspired people in my family to serve, and for the last 100 years every kid from Aurora who comes home from a war looks up to see his name when they walk into American Legion post.
Every grave at Aisne-Marne American Cemetery at Belleau holds more than a fallen comrade. It hold dreams lost and a life cut short and it is connected with an unbreakable bond to families of the fallen and those who serve today.
We have a right to be angry, a right to be shook, but don’t let outrage slow you or discourage you in pursuit of that bright but distant shore. There’s work to be done. Let’s be about it.
Kirk, thank you for telling this story. It's an important one for people to hear today.