Every night at dinner when I was young, my dad fought World War II all over again. He'd parachuted into Normandy with the 101st Airborne on D-Day, went on to fight in Holland and Belgium, and he loved to tell war stories.
Read more here:
70 years after D-Day, she hears dad's stories anew
I read the article and enjoyed it.
And I thought that some of you guys would like it also.
Some of the guys from the Greatest Generation had, and still have, some great stories to tell about things that really happened.
Reading that made a lump come up in my throat. It reminded me of my father-in-law, who was in the Navy in WWII. Unlike this man, Bill (my father-in-law) didn't talk about his time at war - until one late night a few months before his death. I still believe that the only reason he spoke that night, was because my boys wanted to know about Paw Paw, and he wanted them to know as well.
Before that night, the only think I knew about his service time was that he would never wear shorts because of the burn scars on his legs that he got while in the Navy and he wouldn't go swimming. And, I had seen his uniform in the closet with the Silver Star, with Oak Leaf Cluster, the Bronze Star with the V for Valor and the Purple Heart, with two Oak Leaf Clusters. I found out, that night, how it all happened.
For one of his decorations he was on deck during a kamikaze attack, and barely survived. His ship was lost, with most of his buddies. He stayed at his post, until he was blown overboard from an explosion. Prior to that, he saved many lives (which is when his pants were burned off of his body) by walking through the flames and removing guys to the inner passage ways that had fallen in the attack and then went back on deck, took to a 50 cal that the crew had been knocked out to return fire before finding himself in the water with his ship sinking beside him. He talked about the suction pulling him down and him swimming as hard as he could and that the water was on fire all around him and that breathing was painful from the smoke, fire and bunker oil in the water. He would never go into our pool, he said, because of two reasons: he was embarrassed of his burn scars, and he couldn't stand the thought of going under water again.
He talked for hours, softly and quietly, with what I can only describe as a hesitation to not glorify his service out of reverence for his lost friends. He described many battles. Many times that he would only feel anything after it was all over.
He tried to tell me and my sons that he was not a hero. That what I had done, and was still doing at that time, in SOF was more brave than what he had done. That what he did was nothing but just doing his job. That he didn't think he should be honored.
Unlike most things he would say, he was wrong about that.
What he and thousands of others of that generation did was more than heroic. It was more than bravery. It was more than dedication to duty or dedication to country. It was the freely giving and freely offering of their lives for the generations to come as what they saw as just what needed and had to be done. That mentality and cultural norm of selflessness and inherent trait of "do what ever it takes to protect and advance" as well as "honor first and last" has changed. Having stories like this, especially to be able to hear them in the voice and words of those that lived them, is priceless and should be treasured by us all. These heroes lived through two events that we can never imagine - the Great Depression and a true World War where good was fighting for its life against real evil.
I try every day to emulate my father-in-law, and instill those values in my sons. He will never be forgotten, nor will his sacrifice that he lived with and suffered with, the rest of his life.