Frank Emberson was wounded on Dec. 21, 1944, while fighting in Luxembourg during World War II. But when the bullet passed through his arm, a packet of family photos in Emberson’s breast pocket deflected it from hitting the Army soldier’s chest, thus saving his life. The story itself is moving, but seeing the small envelope with its frayed edges made me shudder.

You can see the torn envelope and Emberson’s story at the National Purple Heart Hall of Honor, in New Windsor, N.Y., just outside of Newburgh. This is one of those historic sites that makes one feel and think about just what it must be like to fight in a war day after day, to see one’s close comrades killed or injured, to know the razor-thin difference separating life and death, and to be your best self at a moment when your life is most in jeopardy.

The hall is tucked up on a hill away from the highway. I’ve driven by its sign dozens of times on Route 300, just at a place where the edge of Newburgh’s suburbs meets the leafy mountains in the Hudson River Valley. This unobtrusive museum, opened in late 2006, honors those who have received the Purple Heart, which is the United States’ oldest military decoration still in use and was the first to honor the common soldier.

What drew me to the museum? I hate war, as many do, but I believe that at certain, infrequent times it must be fought. I’ve studied and read about it for a very long time, though I aim for my thoughts, words, and actions to be about peace. I’ve never had to fight in a war, though my uncles fought in World War II. Primarily, as I go on in life my feelings for those our nation is sending to wars become even deeper and more acute. I protested against the decision for the United States to go into Iraq in 2003, and I ask more questions about how my ways of living might influence the choices that the country makes about whether to go to war.

In the U.S., we witness men and women currently sent off to two different wars, in Afghanistan and Iraq, going on many years – seemingly endless wars. I see the pain of the families who have lost someone, the returning soldiers fitted with prostheses, those suffering traumatic brain injury or PTSD. So I was especially drawn to a place that honors and documents the lives and experiences of soldiers who have sacrificed their lives or been wounded.

Revolutionary War Roots

The hall’s location is intentional for it has an important link to the recognition of the common soldier and the birth of the Purple Heart. As commander-in-chief of the Continental Army, George Washington decided to reward acts of bravery and merit by granting a promotion in rank or a commission to deserving individuals under his command. The Continental Congress, however, ordered Washington to cease this recognition for soldiers because funds were lacking. Washington wasn’t deterred. In 1782, he stipulated that a soldier who committed a singular act of meritorious action, so recognized, shall receive a Badge of Military Merit, “a heart in purple cloth or silk edged with narrow lace or binding” to be worn over the left breast.

At New Windsor, General Washington, his troops, artisans, and some of their families established their final winter quarters of the Revolutionary War in 1782-1783 – a cantonment, a military enclave. (The Purple Heart Hall of Honor sits on the New Windsor Cantonment State Historic Site,  which has exhibits and activities.)

In a chapel and meeting hall, officers met to consider candidates for the Badge of Military Merit. The military did not award any of these badges after the Revolutionary War, but the federal government and military leadership revived and reinstated this honor some 150 years later, in 1932. The Purple Heart is now given to a member of the military who is killed or wounded in action, who has died as the result of war wounds, or who was held as a prisoner of war.

Since I first visited and was moved by the Civil War battlefield places of Virginia in the late 1970s, I’ve found it ironic that former battlefields and war sites are now some of the most peaceful places in existence. So it is with the National Purple Heart Hall of Honor. The simple wooden building, situated on a knoll, is welcoming and in a lovely spot. Looking through some gray clouds and fog from its walkway, I could see the mountains of the Hudson Highlands.

The entry gallery, along a hallway, has a time line that shows every conflict in American history through present times. Each wooden slat lists conflicts both massive and small, from the Civil War and Korean War to the occupation of Mexico in 1914, along with the number of those killed and wounded in each. Stepping alongside of this gallery and reading off the numbers one by one somehow reinforces the unrelenting, horrible human cost of war – and how important it is to avert it if at all possible.

Machinery and Mankind

As I walked into the main hall, I looked to my right and saw a huge machine gun exhibited to my side, a Maxim MG08/15, and I felt startled by how huge it is. It felt as thick as three guns. German soldiers used these weapons in World War I.

As the literature notes, visitors see a number of “harsh, impersonal” images and implements of war – and this is where the hall is most powerful. It juxtaposes the terrible machinery and difficult images of war with the personal experiences of individuals who had to fight it. The hall is somewhat like a sanctuary, where several large columns that contain images of soldiers tower above the exhibits below. It is war both as massive force and up-close through individual lives.

This central hall feels peaceful and somber, and its side windows let in light and give views of the outdoors, so I never felt far from nature. To the left in the main hall are three very large, rounded drum-like stands, each with the surface of an aircraft, a bunker, and a ship. They are divided by the stories they tell: how the wounding happened; how it “changed my life,” meaning the soldier’s; and those who died.

Within each kiosk, a visitor can use a touch screen to select and then watch and listen to videos of soldiers and their loved ones recounting their experiences. The walls also contain letters and other artifacts from soldiers and families. The questions asked of the soldiers in the interviews elicit the personal: How did your family react when they found out you were wounded? Were you frightened while in battle?

Sitting in one of the drum-like structures to watch a video segment feels intimate. On one, Army soldier Chad Burnhart explains how he was hit with “superficial shrapnel” while in Iraq but then later found out that his ear drum was “blown out.” He spent the next year going through two surgeries and recovering in Walter Reed Army Medical Center.

In another video, John Iwamoto, an Army soldier who was in the Korean War, tells of a time he could hear someone in the enemy forces crying and how, speaking in a common language both sides could understand – Japanese – he coaxed the soldier and more than a dozen of his comrades to surrender.

The communications of soldiers that pre-date the era of video provide immediacy, too. On one wall is Capt. John J. Donnelly’s handwritten letter to his mother during World War I, which talks of the difficulty of killing another human being. One can envision him writing this note while with his soldiers on the front, a peaceful act in the midst of chaos. The word “trenches” is repeated so much on one page that it feels dominating and inescapable as that physical reality. Donnelly tells his mother, “However, it is not the trenches that we like, but the ideals that we are fighting for.”

The Roll of Honor

The facts of what happened to soldiers such as Donnelly are part of the “Roll of Honor” database that the museum is compiling. It’s seeking to list and fully document in a registry all Purple Heart recipients from all branches of service for all wars in which the honor was awarded. To the side in the main hall, interactive computer terminals allow visitors to access the Roll of Honor. To date, the hall has enrolled 82,000 Purple Heart recipients (it estimates that 1.7 million Purple Hearts have been awarded).

As I walk out of the hall of honor, I take a quiet moment and a deep breath, thinking of the stories and images of the soldiers. The overcast conditions have broken up, and pinkish-silver clouds are moving quickly across a blue-gray sky. Flags are waving in the wind alongside the silhouettes of the trees. It’s peaceful. I’m filled with a sense of never taking a minute or our freedoms for granted.

Note: The National Purple Heart Hall of Honor is located at 374 Temple Hill Road (Route 300) in New Windsor, N.Y, several miles from both Interstate 84 and Exit 17 of the New York State Thruway (Interstate 87). You can get directions here or find information about registering a Purple Heart recipient in the Roll of Honor here. The museum’s staff was gracious, knowledgeable, and accommodating during my visit. Those who go to the hall also have the opportunity to view an approximate 20-minute film, For Military Merit: The Purple Heart, which tells the story of the Purple Heart. The museum’s Web site also provides a history of the Purple Heart.