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Veteran's Day Tribute

IStock_000001828106XSmallToday is Veteran’s Day.  It’s a day on which I don some thick leather workman’s boots for a slog down Memory Lane, in tribute to my Grandpa Dave, a WWII vet.

I don’t know many details of his time in the service.  Every now and then he’d open up about his time in the war… then he’d go quiet again for weeks on end.  He never begrudged a question about the war, but the length and depth of his answers were highly variable.  

Because I was a boy, of course my most vivid memories are of his most gruesome tales.  Grandpa Dave exited the service with an abiding hatred for war.  He didn’t try to shield us from its horrors: he told what he could manage to, with thoughtful pauses wedged between the tougher sentences.

Grandpa Dave served in the African Theater, primarily.  Casablanca.  The deserts.  One time he and his buddies were relaxing in a bar in Casablanca.  Once they were liquored up, an entire round of drinks brought to the table was found to be highballs of pure kerosene.  Someone was trying to poison them.  I don’t know exactly what happened next but the bar wound up being shot up.  In a movie, that might look pretty cool.  In real life, it was a memory that haunted him, I think.

Then there was a time when he saw a soldier’s head plucked off his shoulders by stray artillery fire on some dockside.  Then there was the time when a grenade launched into a foxhole blew him into the sky and scarred his legs forever.  That last encounter sent him home… where, for years, the tough Jewish street urchin who had marched off to war spent the next several years ducking under cars or into doorways whenever he heard a plane fly overhead.

Grandpa Dave went on to become a hospital administrator.  His wife, my Grandma Ada – whom he met at 14 and married just before shipping out – was his one, true love.  They raised two fine sons.

People talk about the Greatest Generation.  And it’s true, the Americans who saw us through WWII were great.  But having been so close to my grandfather, I also saw how painful those experiences were; he wasn’t trying to be “great,” he was just trying to get by.

On Veteran’s Day – in-between the self-absorbed blogging, twittering, facebooking, etc. – I try to find time to remember that there are Americans fighting in a war in the Middle East.  Soldiers like my grandfather, battling through sand, blood, hatred and heat, just to get by.  I wish them well.

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Comments

Thank you.

Thanks Todd- As an Army brat of a Green Beret veteran and family history of serviceman, thank you for your posting. It's good to reflect on what some people are willing to do with their lives for the good of others. It's not only the service members that make the sacrifices, the spouses and children do too.

Todd - this is a great post. My grandfather also served in WWII as a pilot, and it was amazing to read the diary entries he has from D-Day. He too was often quiet about it - but was always very proud of the time he served - as is his family. But I was lucky to see some of his fascinating photos and diary entries before he died, and it was amazing to know that he was apart of something so historical, that many of us only remember reading about in our grade school history text books. Here's to those who made and are continuing to make history :)

Todd,

What a beautiful post. Thank you for sharing your grandfather's memories. I've seen many signs wishing the world "Happy Veteran's Day," and I can't help to think of the irony in those words. While America celebrates and people enjoy a day off from work, I feel that we forget the pain that many of our soldiers are experiencing. We forget what it is that we're commemorating. On this day, I could only wish that our nation's veterans, and our friends and family overseas, can find happiness in knowing that the ones who love them keep them in their hearts today and everyday.

My dad was in the Big One WW II, Philippines, then thanks to Truman, he was among the first wave of occupation troops in Japan. He didn’t talk much about it, only to say it was all like a dream. He lasted til he was 57. That seemed old to me back when I was a kid, now at 48, it is just around the corner. He had leukemia, who knows if walking around Hiroshima had anything to do with it, but he had more to be thankful for than hundreds of thousands of others in that war.

You mentioned in your post that Grandpa Dave didn’t try to shield his family from the horrors of war. I wonder what Grandpa Dave would say about wars today. Is the media shielded from getting the story? Have they too become part of the divide and conquer political agenda that they seldom present the issues objectively. I prefer my news a bit longer, less editorializing and more say Joe Fridayesque, “just the facts mam” Here’s a take from the Frontline Club, an organization in the UK comprised of independent journalists who cover war zones. http://tinyurl.com/39wazp

Did you see the Ken Burns’ series The War? I wonder if there is that same sense of unity, same sense of purpose today. I’m sure there must have been those opposed to WW II, but 70 years later I couldn’t mention one person or group. Now that I think of it Joe Kennedy comes to mind.

Did you see the movie Rollerball? I wonder if guys from the greatest generation would think that war has turned into sport with our team of volunteers over there and with us taking it in from a distance. No impact to our lives, no rationing, no changes in production lines.

Here is one list to bring you closer to those in service of their country.
http://dir.yahoo.com/Government/Military/War_in_Iraq/Weblogs_and_Diaries/

I experience the war by listening to the News Hour, not watching it but listening, they have a podcast. I listen to the show during its live broadcast while making dinner. At the end of the program they show the photos of those killed in action that were recently made public. When you are listening to the show, you hear the intro then nothing. And because you don’t know how many they will honor that night, you don’t know when the silence will end. Because you are not watching it, there is nothing to take up your mind, no caption to read, image to process, just silence. Veterans day is over, but soldiers become veterans everyday.

This issue seems closer to me because my son just turned 18 this week.

Todd,

Thanks for writing this. My Dad served a stint in Vietnam stationed in Saigon when he was only 19 years old. I marvel at the fact that he was able to come through the experiences that he did at such a young age. It is people like my Dad and your Grandfather that provide us with the liberties we enjoy today. We owe it to them to take a breather every once in awhile and recognize what they have made possible. Thank you for doing that here.

--Chris

Dear T,

As one of the “fine sons” mentioned in your piece I want to thank you for the heartfelt tribute to my Dad. He was a wonderful, sweet, caring man whose family was his life; the center of which was Grandma Ae. He would be so proud to see how his only Grandson turned into the remarkable young man you are.

Too often we get caught up in our daily lives & forget the sacrifices that were made to preserve our way of life. Our Veterans, past, present & future, are the real heroes. While they may be trying only to get by & get through it, they do it unselfishly & at great sacrifice to themselves & their families. We owe them a lot & I thank you for remembering one very special guy.

Great post, Todd. My grandpa (who just passed away last month) wasn't in WWII, but he was in Korea so we would sometimes hear bits and pieces of his time there over the course of my life.

I was shocked when he came to visit me in SF and I thought I'd be clever by taking him to an Ethiopian restaurant - as we're sitting there, he says to me, "back when I was in Addis Abada ..." which led to additional stories of his time in Casablanca and elsewhere. You're right - it seemed like it was right out of a movie; that is, of course, until he started talking about pulling his best friend Joe out of a foxhole after he'd been shot.

For some reason, we (Americans) tend to glorify the "old wars" and so it's easy to forget that when today's soldiers are in their 60s, 70s, 80s, and hopefully even 90s, they'll be telling similar stories to their grandkids. Your post brings that into perspective for me.

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