The Professor and the Doughboys

A bit more than 20 years ago I was a student in a class on World War One at the University of Washington. The class was taught by a masterful instructor who presented us with equal parts knowledge and enthusiasm. At the end of the semester, the professor required all the students from the several sections of his classes on The Great War to convene for a “Great War” sing-along. Yes, the culmination of our history course was a participatory musical extravaganza.

Most of us weren’t really sure why we were going to Dr. Bridgman’s gathering, but we were happy to play along. It was different, intriguing, promised even the possibility of being fun. Besides, it would be good for our grade. And Dr. Bridgman was so enthusiastic we just couldn’t let him down. And frankly, we were curious. No other professor had ever asked us to SING to wrap up a History course.

The first thing that I noticed when I entered the auditorium that evening was that there were a lot more people in attendance than I expected. Not only were there more students than I cared to count – there were a significant number of other folks from the University and the community. We hadn’t realized that this was going to be such a big deal.

Dr. Bridgman arrived, enthusiastic as always, song sheets in hand. He handed them out randomly to students he passed by on his way to the front, sharing a greeting, laughing, gesticulating as he often did to convey his zeal. The piano began to play, and the singing began, softly at first but soon ebullient in response to the professor’s encouragement. Dr. Bridgman conducted vigorously as we worked our way through songs we had heard, but never really sung ourselves. “Over There.” “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary.” “Smile, Smile, Smile.” “Keep the Home Fires Burning.” The impact of that evening was so significant that the tunes and words come back to me easily, even 20 years later.

After we had been singing for a while, Dr. Bridgman motioned for silence and began the introduction of our guest of honor. The man on stage with the professor sported a full head of very white hair. He worked to rise from his chair and he walked with a cane, but his energy and excitement were obvious nonetheless. I am sorry to say that I cannot recall the name, but our speaker was a member of what was, even then, an increasingly rare group. He was an actual combat veteran of The Great War. Approximately 90 years old and happy that the young crowd before him still cared, he told us stories – stories that emphasized commitment and patriotism and a time and place worth remembering.

We all know that war is ugly, and World War I was uglier than most. Millions died in this war that, in retrospect, seems quite avoidable. But the soldiers who fought did so for noble reasons. They were good, courageous men who put everything on the line for their countries and their comrades in the greatest conflict the world had yet seen. It was tough for them. Obviously conditions on the front were abominable. As if the danger of being killed by the enemy wasn’t enough, there was the ever present threat of disease, the extreme discomfort of life in the trenches, and the constant worry about those left behind.

One of the things that helped these courageous defenders keep their spirits up was music. When they heard “Keep the Home Fires Burning,” they felt closer to their loved ones back home, and they remembered to stay positive and strong in spite of the apprehension and weariness they felt inside. When they sang “Over There,” they felt empowered and confident of their ultimate success.

Dr. Jon Bridgman, 2001

 When Dr. Bridgman had us sing along with the soldiers of World War I, he led us unsuspecting into the minds and emotions of the people – in the field and back at home - of three generations earlier. Having taught us the facts and the chronology of the war over the course of the college term, he put us in a position to experience, in a small way, the emotions that went along with the facts. Over the course of a semester, Dr. Bridgman gave us knowledge; in the sing along, he made it real by involving us personally.



Ensign Jon Bridgman, c.1952



Our guest was an invaluable part of the entire experience. He didn’t talk long, but he did speak to us. The precise words he said are less important than the fact that he was there, with us, and we with him, reliving the positive aspects of a difficult experience with him, participating from over seven decades later in the world-changing events in which he had played a part.

I will always remember with gratitude how Dr. Bridgman and our World War I veteran combined to literally expand our historic understanding, our human compassion, and our world view, all in one remarkable evening of song.

I hope that, as a history teacher myself a few years later, I was one tenth as inspirational as Dr. Jon Bridgman was.

Charles Choules, c.2010

I hope that as a U.S. military man, I was worthy of the heritage of the ‘doughboys’ of the Great War, including one whom I knew only for one evening, and another who survived more than a decade into the 21st century.

The passing of Charles Choules yesterday, last surviving combat veteran of World War I, marks the end of a chapter in the history of our world. The young English sailor who witnessed the surrender of the German fleet in 1918 became the last man on Earth of the 70 million who fought.  He represents a time, a place, and a courageous effort that are worthy of remembrance and honor. 



Charles Choules, c.1918

 
To the Great War veterans I have known, whether an elderly relative when I was too young to understand, or an older gentleman who came out at age 90 to sing with a bunch of youngsters, or the subject of a news story who represents the last of his time:
We Will Remember. Thank you.

Gryphem

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For more about Professor Jon Bridgman, from a former student and a university article, visit http://jdgrose115.tripod.com/nrotc/bridgman.html and http://dailyuw.com/2009/4/28/historic-treasure/

For more about WWI Veteran Charles Choule see http://www.cnn.com/2011/WORLD/asiapcf/05/05/australia.ww1.veteran.dies/index.html?hpt=T2 and http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/military-obituaries/naval-obituaries/8494591/Chief-Petty-Officer-Claude-Choules.html