In a cemetery section reserved for people from an old institution, a lone flag marks the grave of one who served his country.

I never knew George Henke, but I make a point of visiting his grave every year around Memorial Day.

I know that he was from Ohio, that he served in the US Army in World War I, and that his discharge rank was Private. This information is carved on the stone that marks his grave. The stone is easy to find since every marker in this part of the cemetery is identical, except for one. George Henke. The markers are identical because this part of the cemetery was reserved for people who lived in an institution for those with the disability known for most of George’s life as mental retardation.

The World Wars

The question of who does or does not have a disability and, more important, what difference it makes, is nothing new. But it is particularly instructive to look at the question in terms of the national desperation of wartime. The August 17, 1917 edition of a local newspaper, the Jefferson County (Wisconsin) Union, lists 179 people from the area who were drafted into military service that week. Most were listed with their street address; but for three men on the list, that address reads only “Feeble-Minded Home” and the city in which the institution was located.

While precise numbers are unknown, it is estimated that thousands of citizens with developmental disabilities served in the military during the first World War. Measures of IQ, functional and adaptive skills, and the overall determination of disability looked much different in the early 20th century, but in his 1983 book, A History of Mental Retardation, teacher and author R.C. Scheerenberger points out a great irony. Following the war, many soldiers who left institutions to enter military service, and served with both honor and success, were returned to (and in some cases “re-committed to”) those same institutions upon their return to civilian life. Soldiers like George Henke.

More than merely serving, those who entered the military tended toward success.

A 1946 article by Rebecca McKeon titled Mentally Retarded Boys in War Time features a group of young men with disabilities who had been enrolled in special classes in the 1930s. The report revealed that they made significant contributions as soldiers during the war. In fact, McKeon found that, by 1943, almost 55% of these young men were on active duty with the military, while another 15% were working in defense-related jobs or were waiting to be drafted. In her conclusion, McKeon described the young men as “a self-respecting group who had responded in creditable fashion to the war emergency.”

Lessons Learned

In any study of history, there are inevitably voices that we can hear speaking to us today. Shortly after World War II, author Thomas R. Weaver published a study that assessed the military performance of 8,000 people who had been classified in the official, albeit offensive, category of  mental defectives. He found that about half the group “adjusted successfully; performed their jobs well; gained new skills… and became functioning members of the military group.”

It is Weaver’s concluding remarks, though, that get our attention. Keep in mind, he wrote this in 1946:

“…a peacetime society and industry can no longer consider the mental defective as useless.  What a potential force of manpower now returns to civilian status! It is our hope that society and industry can recognize the importance of understanding, fortifying, and utilizing to the ultimate, a human being whose assets heretofore have been considered expendable items.”

More than 65 years later, we are still striving to meet the challenge that Weaver set forth.

Memorial Day provides us with an opportunity to remember all those who served, of course. But I invite you to join me in recognizing the dignity, honor, and courage of these noble citizens in particular; remembering that those whom we serve, once served us.