Student Reflection

Over the past several months, as we dove into Staff Sergeant Edward Vincent Maloney’s life and legacy, our view of World War 2 shifted from distant historical facts to a solemn demonstration of personal sacrifice and the true price of freedom. Piecing together his story gave us an appreciation for both his service and the significance of the war at large, fostering a connection that textbooks rarely capture. Comparing the notices of his death, correspondences between the military and his father, with the breadth of information we found about his family and early life through ancestry.com was undoubtably valuable. It enabled us to not only connect to him as a soldier, but to recognize the humanity behind that valor, the man behind the uniform. However, it was similarly fascinating to study his military records in the context of his unit’s milestones, which suggested the significance of his sacrifice and his role in shaping history. If we could speak with him, we would first express our profound gratitude for his brave contributions and for safeguarding the future we now enjoy. Then we would ask him how he was able to reconcile the harsh realities of battle with hope for a better future? We would also be curious about what gave him the strength to continue after losses and setbacks. Or even, what gave him the courage to make the final sacrifice. If given the opportunity to converse with him, we would be honored to listen to his story, whether it be of his experiences before the war, during the war, or in the final moments leading up to his heroic, selfless death. This project has redefined gratitude for us by transforming it from general thankfulness into a true recognition of every battle, every sacrifice that has secured the freedom we take for granted today. This project is an important reminder that the liberties we cherish were hard-earned, and that remembrance is a duty we owe to heroes like Maloney. Never forget. 

"For the Fallen" - Lauren Binyon

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,

England mourns for her dead across the sea.

Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,

Fallen in the cause of the free.

 

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal 

Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,

There is music in the midst of desolation

And a glory that shines upon our tears.

 

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,

Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.

They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;

They fell with their faces to the foe.

 

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: 

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

 

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again; 

They sit no more at familiar tables of home;

They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;

They sleep beyond England's foam.

 

But where our desires are and our hopes profound, 

Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,

To the innermost heart of their own land they are known

As the stars are known to the Night;

 

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust, 

Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;

As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness, 

To the end, to the end, they remain.

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