The story of Gerald Clement’s army service is from The Spirit of Notre Dame: Its History, Legends and Lore Web site by Dorothy V. Corson. The photographs of Gerald were provided by Margaret Clements Moore. The photograph of the Memorial Door is by Robert Ringel ©.

From September, 1913 through June 1915 Gerald resided in Sorin Hall in one of the tower rooms. His roommate was Joseph Gargan. Rose Kennedy, the mother of President John F. Kennedy, was his Aunt. When his mother died he and his sister were raised with the children of Joseph Kennedy. The following year, in 1916, Gerald’s three companions, (on the famous "Walk to Chicago")  Edward Marcus, Russell Downey and Wilmer Finch received their degrees and went on to careers in journalism and advertising.

In June of 1915, Gerald Clements graduated with honors in law from Notre Dame University, Valedictorian of his law class. He practiced law in the law firm his father had established which was renamed, Clements & Clements in honor of his eldest child. Gerald had practiced law for 2 years. He was described as a brilliant young lawyer.

In 1917, as soon as World War I was declared, “he exhibited a single minded determination to go to the Army.” Two children had died in infancy and another at four years old. His mother threatened to go to bed “and not get up” if he enlisted. But he had made up his mind, he did enlist in the Army. His mother was devastated but she did not carry out her threat. He was sent to Fort Benjamin Harrison for his basic training, and in September, 1918, he was sent to Camp Sherman at Chillicothe, Ohio where he received general training for overseas duty.

His father wrote to him on September 27, 1918 advising him that “The Spanish flu may hold our shipment of troops back. Don’t see any reports from your camp of any trouble. Hope it doesn’t strike Sherman.” A week later Gerald was stricken with the dreaded 1918 influenza epidemic that was sweeping the civilian and military population of the United States.

Elizabeth Harmon’s geneology describes his last days: A telegram from Camp Sherman informed his mother and father of his serious condition. “They left at once by train . . . Later, they would describe the rows upon rows of stricken soldiers, many dying. Gerald was sick only a few days. At times his fever was so high that he became delirious. In his delirium, he thought he had already gone to France. After their arrival, his mother and father were at his bedside constantly, and they were with him when he died.”

“His last words were: ‘To me, the war is over, and I am going home.’ In one week he would have been twenty-four years old! Ironically, the war really was over only a month later, when the Armistice was signed , November 11, 1918.”

There is yet another irony about the sad untimely death of Gerald Clements. It surfaced in the form of a thought-provoking "Food for Thought"  essay he wrote about the war in 1915, before he graduated and returned home to begin his practice as a new lawyer in his father’s law firm.

“The black his mother put on for Gerald’s death and burial, was never laid aside. She wore only black from then, until she died. She made no exceptions for any occasion, including the weddings of her children and grandchildren. She was fifty years old when Gerald died; and she was utterly crushed by grief. For his father it was also a terrible blow. Gerald, his eldest son, had been his daily companion, his partner, and ‘crony’ to talk over everything with.”

When Gerald graduated from Notre Dame in 1915, his father formed the law firm of Clements & Clements. He never changed this designation though Gerald died in 1918. Later his son, Fred, joined the firm, after his graduation from Notre Dame in 1926. They practiced together until La Vega’s death in 1938.

His father’s unforgetable personality continued to guide the family. He died twenty years after Gerald’s death. He had just announced that he would be a candidate for Circuit Judge and had given a speech at the Knights of Columbus Home. After retiring early he was stricken with a heart attack and died before a priest or doctor could get there. He was 70 years old. Elizabeth Harmon describes an interesting story about her grandfather. Many years after his death she said she was visiting her Aunt Lucinda in a nursing home and an old lady came up to her and said about her Aunt Lucinda, “She looks like Mr. Veggie Clements, doesn’t she? When I was young, I used to see him walking down the street, swinging his cane, whistling, saluting ladies by tipping his straw hat and greeting men with a handshake and children with a smile. I thought he was a great man, a real gentleman. (He had been dead 47 years; but she hadn’t forgotten him.)”

Elizabeth writes, “He was ‘one of a kind,’ a legend. He was like a comet streaking across life and then gone. I will never forget him either. He taught me to love reading. He took me on his lap and told me stories, taught me the names of all the Indian tribes. He gave a wonder to all he told. He said, ‘If you read, worlds will be opened up to you.’ I was 9 years old when he died.”

Rev. John W. Cavanaugh, President of the University of Notre Dame paid this same kind of “unforgettable” tribute to Gerald Clements shortly after his death. His words also represent his profound respect for all the young men who gave their lives in service to their country since World War I -- the war to end all wars.

By the
REV. JOHN W. CAVANAUGH, C.S.C., D.D.
President of the University of
Notre Dame, Notre Dame, Indiana

Whenever I think of Sergeant Gerald S. Clements and the untimely death he met, I have a fresh realization of the terrible price men pay for war.

Patriotism, like religion, it would seem, demands for its sacrifice the unblemished lamb. Among all the men who have gone out from Notre Dame holding aloft the banner of freedom, there have been some who have made the supreme sacrifice. Among our thousands of Notre Dame boys in the war, there were, of course, some more select and distinguished than others; but I marvel when I remember that among those who were called in the morning of their promise to give up their lives for human liberty and civilization, there was not one called who was not of the first quality. As I pass the list of names through the fingers of memory, it seems like a rosary of brilliants.

Gerald Clements was one of the noblest, strongest, purest, truest of them all. A face as shining as a child’s; a manner as gentle as a convent girl’s; a breeding as delicate as that of a refined woman; and, yet, an eager quick, challenging and tenacious mind; a vigor of thought, a subtlety of analysis, a balance of judgment this was Gerald Clements.

Let no one wonder that the president of his old University writes so warmly of him. At universities one sees the best men and sees them at their best. It is, of course, the place of study and of labor, but it is also the place of growth and wonder and joy. There young men dream dreams and see visions and plan miraculous achievements for the future--many of which, of course, never mature. It is the home of idealism and in its genial atmosphere the young idealist thrives amazingly.

Gerald Clements was a rare blend of the idealist and the practical man-of-the-world. After he had come into his full power through years and experience, he would have adorned the lecture platform in any university. Equally, he would have been a shining light and a glorious leader in civil or professional life. Always he would be the lovable and faithful home man, the loyal friend, the ideal citizen, the consistent Christian.

He has gone, but he has not died. Men like him never die. As long as there are those who love him and remember him, he is still at work in the world through his spirit, his virtue, his example. God rest his gentle soul.

The name Gerald Clements, is among the names of other sons of Notre Dame who perished during the first World War. Their names are enshrined forever on Memorial Plaques flanking the East Door of the Basilica of the Sacred Heart at the University of Notre Dame. In the foyer of the East Door is also a light fixture made of the World War I helmet of Rev. Charles O'Donnell, a chaplain during World War I and later President of the University.