Veteran's Day

Originally Posted by Bagger Lance
Thanks also to Yoda for your service to our Country. It shaped who you are today.

As have countless thousands of Americans before and after me, I gave time...four years (1966-70). In the same period and in what would become a controversial and divisive war, many gave much more...their lives. Young Americans today are making the same sacrifice.

For me, my Dad set the example 25 years earlier. In 1941, on the eve of World War II, he graduated from Texas A&M in its Reserve Officer Training program and joined the Army Air Corps (later to become the U.S. Air Force). He earned his commission, married and almost immediately shipped out overseas.

Over the next four years, he served in campaigns from Northern Africa to Sicily to Normandy. He returned in 1945 after victory in Europe...and Baby Yoda made his appearance a year later.

Dad died in 2001, and I was faced with the challenge of writing his obituary and delivering his eulogy. Fortunately, he had penned a rough draft of his own several years earlier -- good ol' Dad! -- and I used many of his 'line items' as a guide for my own. I was also charged with assembling his personal effects and distributing them to the family.

As I dug through the files, I came across his war diaries. They chronicled his years away from home, and almost every day had an entry. Some pages dealt with the often routine existence of a soldier in wartime, but others were so personal that, with tears welling, I simply had to turn them unread. I felt an intruder into his innermost thoughts, and in respect, I could only leave them to himself.

I also came upon an untitled file containing documentation of a commendation he had received, along with a small, nondescript blue box. I opened the box and found the Bronze Star Medal. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bronze_Star_Medal

How could Dad have forgotten to mention the Bronze Star Medal in his own obituary draft?

The truth is he didn't forget. With so many of his comrades lost, he may have felt unworthy, but he didn't forget. He had done his duty, and that was enough.

A mighty proud son I was then.

And on this Veterans Day 2007...

A mighty proud son I am now.

Originally Posted by dcg1952
My Dad also served in North Africa (Army) and was also in Sicily, as well as landing at Anzio.

...The only time I ever saw my father cry was when he described to my brother and me (as little boys) what it was like to walk through the water that had now turned red and see dozens of bodies floating around him as he scrambled to the beach. Told us stories of men vomiting intermittently through the night before an invasion or quietly weeping---certain that they would be killed the next day.

...Alzheimers has now taken its toll on his 90 year old mind, and I feel deep remorse that I never got to take him to the WW II Memorial in Washington, D.C. But my brother and I knew he was our hero even before a monument was built.

At age 20, my Uncle Bennett landed with the first wave of U.S. Marines on Iwo Jima.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Iwo_Jima

In fierce action lasting 35 days from the inital assault to the final Japanese charge, the Allied forces suffered 27,909 casualties, with 6,825 killed in action. The number of American casualties was greater than the total Allied casualties on D-Day (estimated at 10,000). Of the over 21,000 Japanese soldiers, 20,703 died and 216 were captured during the battle. It was combat in the most rigorous circumstance imaginable -- often hand-to-hand -- and always to the death.

Over a quarter of the Medals of Honor awarded to Marines in World War II were given for conduct in the invasion of Iwo Jima. The Marines, both active duty and reservists, were commended with 24 Medals of Honor. An additional five Medals of Honor were bestowed upon five Navy servicemen and reservists.

Uncle Bennett survived and went on to build a successful oil business in Houston, Texas. He fathered six children -- all girls -- and named the last one Bennette.



He never talked of the war.

Never.

But even as a child, I noticed he had an odd habit: He was always changing his socks, usually about a half dozen times a day.

"Why?" I asked my Dad. "Why does Uncle Bennett do that?"

"Because, at Iwo Jima, his socks were always wet, and now he must keep them dry."