Wars are never won - even the winner loses

Another tale of talent from the class of Roosevelt High in the 1930s

There was one student in our class who was ugly as sin. He was short and beneath most students' notice. He occupied space - he had no friends. If anyone even knew his name, he was simply "George."

Until one day at one of the regular student assemblies we had to showcase student talent.
I was sitting in the bleachers way up in the corner. George came out on stage. He was so short he had to fiddle with the microphone and barely could get it down to his level. There was no orchestra or band to back him up. He was out there alone.

All of a sudden the most beautiful Tenor singing voice rang out - filling the auditorium with a sound so pure we thought it was part of a Celestial Choir singing down from heaven.

He first sang Una furtiva lagrima - and everyone sat in stunned and appreciative silence until he was finished.

We gave him a standing ovation. So he sang another song.

'Sometimes I feel like a motherless child'

I was able to hide my tears being so high up in the bleachers. I had been orphaned at the age of 7. I had lost both mother and father. I'm sure he had no idea that was my favorite song. I don't know why he picked it.

From that moment on he had a thousand friends. Everyone knew him. Everyone made him feel important, greeting him with smiles in the hallways. George with the Golden Voice.

High school students are a tough audience. We recognized his ability and honored him for it. He reached us through his music.

The next we heard about George, he was Killed In Action (KIA) during World War II.

I wonder if he had gone onto the battlefield singing, if the Germans could have known how rare his gift was, would the soldier who shot him still have pulled the trigger?

A little guy like George with a voice that could make the walls tremble and a high school student cry. I have heard all the greatest Tenors and his voice was equal to any I've heard.

There have been times when I wondered if he had sisters or brothers or other relatives. Did they know how much he touched us before he died? I wish I could tell them how beautiful he was despite his outward appearance.

Some men talk about how war made them important - as heroes, or officers or leaders of men.

Wars take such a heavy toll - taking away men before they have had their chance to make a difference. Men who could have changed the world with the rest of their lives - as inventors or scientists.

When we add up the cost of winning, how can we actually say we won anything?