University of Virginia Library

ADDRESS OF CAPTAIN A. D. BARKSDALE, PRESENTING THE MEMORIAL TABLET

Thousands of miles away upon the friendly bosom of a sister republic
lie these heroic sons of Alma Mater. Filled with the loftiest ideals known to
mankind these modern Argonauts sailed three thousand miles to engage in
the mightiest conflict since the creation, and with their fellows they cast
their deciding weight into the balance on the side of humanity.

In that vast cataclysm which so recently enveloped the earth many
there were who made sacrifices, who gave of their time, of their means, of
their blood—but these have given their all; they have given their lives.
Only a few short years have passed since they in the fullness of their strong
young manhood were capable of standing here as we stand and feeling that
thrill which contact with this noble old Jeffersonian structure always inspires.
It seems as if it were but yesterday when they moved among us,
and made life brighter by their presence. But to-day their places are vacant
and we are gathered to honor their memory. From far and near we have
gathered to print their names in everlasting bronze upon the walls of this
Rotunda. But nothing that we do here or can ever do will add anything to
their glory. Their names have been ineradicably enrolled upon the great
American Roll of Honor. Those of us who knew them will always bear their
memory fresh in our hearts until we are called over yonder. But our days
are numbered and as we grow old and fulfill our allotted span we shall wither

Tablet Memorial Unveiled on Second Day of Centennial

as the grass. "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." When we are gone generations
yet unborn will honor them. I know of no more priceless heritage to
one entering these portals than to be able to point to this tablet and say,
"I am descended from one of these."

In the early days just after America had aligned herself upon the side
of freedom and right, throughout the land there was a feeling of uncertainty
whether or not we Americans untried in war were capable of withstanding
the fierce onslaught of the Hun. The whole world stood anxiously watching
to see how Americans would stand the test. How they went through their
trial by battle, how they underwent their baptism of fire is now writ large
upon the glorious pages of the history of the world. And we are gathered
here to-day to place upon the walls of our University the names of her sons
who gave their all that their country's honor should be unsullied and to
show the world that Americans could still die for their country.

Since we cannot fathom the infinite we can never know why the grim
reaper as he stalked over the battlefields and army camps chose these.
Sometimes it seems as if it were all wrong; that only the best were taken;
that there must have been some great mistake somewhere up in the infinite.
But I think not. One night on the bank of the Meuse just after dusk, when
the guns were roaring and the shells were crashing everywhere, and the
whole world seemed in an uproar and confusion, I chanced to turn my eyes
upward and in the heavenly firmament above, countless myriads of stars
shone down upon the earth beneath; each one in its accustomed place unmoved,
unperturbed and imperturbable. Then over me surged the consciousness
that somewhere there was a Supreme Being who ruled over the
battlefield, who guided the destinies of mankind, and directed everything
according to His infinite plan, and although at times it seems that since the
war both nations and people have grown more selfish and subject to petty
jealousies, surely such sacrifices could not have been for naught. If we keep
faith with those who lie beneath the poppies, surely the world will be a better
place because of their sacrifices.

It was my privilege to serve with one of those whose names are written
on this tablet, Robert Young Conrad. In a few minutes his daughter, who
has never known the depth of her father's love and whose little body will
never be held in her father's strong arms, will assist in the unveiling. Together
we marched through the black night of October 7, 1918, to our position
in advance of the French lines from whence we were to attack at dawn.
The gloomy, drizzly night which disspirited many rather heightened than
dampened his spirits. "The very night for us," he said, "we can get ready
without being observed." Arrived at our position we lay down for a few

hours' rest on the wet hillside. Before the first rays of morning light he
called to me that it was time to place our troops in order of battle. As the
day slowly broke I could hear him calling to his men and placing them in
their respective positions. At dawn the roar of our barrage and the shrieks
of the shells overhead burst upon our ears. At zero hour he moved off in the
midst of his men and I could hear him calling to them with words of encouragement
and cheer. When the shells of the enemy's counter barrage
began to fall I could see him here, there and everywhere strengthening and
encouraging his men. Finally he disappeared over a hill and I never saw
him again. Hearing that one of his platoons had been halted by a murderous
machine gun fire, without a moment's hesitation he hastened to lead them
in the charge and fell mortally wounded. He was carried unconscious to
the rear and died in the little village of Glorieux, near Verdun. Aye, at
Glorieux, he met death gloriously.

It would take too long to recount the daring and unselfish exploits of
all of them, but whether they were called when soaring above the clouds as
Jim McConnell or while in the execution of some more prosaic task, in the
death of each one of them surely there is a glory incomparable. Free from
all that is mean and petty they went to meet their Creator inspired by the
noblest impulses known to mankind. They were taken at the high tide, at a
point where regard for self sunk into nothingness, and devotion to the cause
reigned supreme. "Don't bother with me, go ahead," murmured one of
them with his last conscious breath.

Although they loved life they did not fear death. Doubtless all of us
when filled with the romance of youth have read with bated breath of heroes
who met death with a smile and wondered what sort of divine clay they
were molded of. But we need wonder no longer, for here is the roll of Virginia's
sons, our brothers, in whom were inculcated the principles of right
and justice and duty, so that when the call came, they did not hesitate but
hastened cheerfully to lay down their lives, and if they had any regret it
was for those they loved and left behind.

Death is always a solemn thing and perforce sad, but for these, our
fallen comrades, we should repress our tears and rather let our souls swell
with pride in the glorious heritage they have bequeathed to their Alma
Mater. No one of these generous unselfish souls would ever wish sorrowful
tears shed for him. I believe that Alan Seeger, that valiant American who
also lies over there, expressed the wish of each of these when he said:

Mr. Rector, we present to you for the University this tablet "in memory
of the sons of this University, who gave their lives for freedom in the World
War." May its presence here always be an inspiration to Virginia's sons
and may it stand forever as a proof that amongst the sons of this University
'tis counted a glorious thing to die for one's Country.