Memorial Day Past Thoughts

Times are tough right now in America but they have been far worse, more severe than our simple lives could ever believe. In our time children are no longer born at home but in hospitals where any problem that develops can immediately be taken care of with a highly educated medical staff. Not many folks in generations gone by could boast about that precious gift and yet they survived to see another generation come up behind them, and yet another one after that.

My Dad was a World War II Veteran and Korea Veteran and entered the Navy at the ripe old age of seventeen. Commerce High, here in Worcester, gave him and all the other boys diplomas before they left for active duty regardless of the fact that they never finished all the required work to get one. Many of those boys never made it back home and there is a small memorial at Britain Square in the city to remember them all. Most people don’t even see it and yet one neighborhood woman goes out of her way to make sure it is well cared for and presentable for the public. Nobody asked her to do it, she just does it. She probably does it because she remembers what it was like to lose so many boys to a war we didn’t start. She was probably just a young teen age girl at the time, maybe she lost a brother or two or three in the war. She doesn’t talk about it, she just pulls the weeds and plants the new flowers every year.

As a young man I found it ironic that my father was so proud of his own military service and yet when any of his own sons discussed joining the military he would go off the deep end with rage. His reasoning, the horror he endured, survived, and was scarred by was never given as an answer as to why not, it was just his word. Jack never wanted one of his sons to ever go through the hell he did and when you think about it, what parent would? He only talked about his experiences in his later years and the horror he went through as a young man was beyond words.

As of this date 5/25/09, we have had 4,300 people die in Iraq and Afghanistan. All of these kids bravely signed up for duty, went into combat as volunteers in service to our nation. Some on their fourth or fifth tour of duty. Every single one of them is a hero in my heart and my prayers go out for each and every single one of them. Same goes for all the men and woman still in the field of battle and most folks forget about them.

Memorial Day has come and gone and most of us back here at home spent it having fun times with family and friends and that is a blessing we owe to the people that served, died, and paid the ultimate price generation after generation before us. Our barbecue weekend introduction to summer is a good time for all and we just need to think back as to why it is all possible. No offense to my German or Japanese readers but I’m glad that I can’t understand a single word you say. Thank you Dad! God rest your soul Dad, I love ya and thank you for all the Marines you patched up as a Navy Medic in WWII.

Somewhere in Iraq, Afghanistan or wherever our troops are deployed is a young kid wondering if he or she will be remembered too if they happen to pay the ultimate price for America? I hope so. Can the next generation come to the task of what our parents or grandparents endured and passed on? All I can say is that they are going to have to.

You will never be forgotten as long as I have a single breath in my lungs. Fox News did this tribute up right back in 2006...

Video Link



Papamoka

CURRAHEE'S 3 MILES UP, 3 MILES DOWN; THOUGHTS OF VETERANS' DAY

BY MICHAEL LINN JONES



I'm sure most everyone who writes of things political undergoes a form of what I call blankness. It's not any form of "writer's block." It's more of a reaction to an accumulation of evidence that the political process has become so defunct, so corrupt, so self-loving that one can reach a point of asking, "What does it all matter, anyway?"

Of course it doesn't take but a day or two of looking at news stories to put fire in the gut, and a writer must walk that tightrope of venting their spleen without offending readers with the expletive language our "leaders" deserve.

A couple of times a year, though, I take a mental respite to dwell on other subjects that may not be exactly pleasant, but at least can leave you with a good feeling inside. Such diversions are necessary for a balance; we get to contemplate a different time, with different people who didn't talk all that much but definitely walked the walk.

A recent visit to Toccoa, Georgia brought home to me several things that frankly I hadn't thought of before. That always happens when visiting places with a history. You go seeking one thing and come away with a lot more than you intended.

Toccoa is a small town in the northeastern part of the Peach State. In the downtown area is the Stephens County History Museum and the Currahee Military Museum. I went there because after watching the "Band of Brothers" series I wanted to see what was left in place there from the 1940's.



The museum is housed in the former train depot. It was at this spot that all the troops arrived by train, and also where they departed. The building was added on to in order to house the quantity of material available to the museum. Within the museum are the stables used for housing enlisted men in Aldbourne, England both prior to and after D-Day.

There is much in the museum pertaining to the "Band of Brothers" but also many individuals' items from around the country. One is quickly reminded that Easy Company of the 506th Parachute Regiment was but one of many, although now the most famous.

Seven or eight miles away is the site of the original Camp Currahee. Today the land is owned by the Milliken Company. The only remaining structure is the chow hall from the 1940's. Viewers might recall the scene where the sadistic Capt. Sobel ordered spaghetti for the men and then announced they were climbing Mt. Currahee immediately.

The road itself to the top of Currahee is still there. It's unpaved, and a fairly steep drive. At my age I was fatigued just by the DRIVE up there, and can only imagine....even with youth and health on your side....how daunting a chore it was to run those 3 miles up the mountain and the 3 miles back down.

Toccoa/Currahee is well worth the visit. The staff at the museum were as nice, polite, and helpful as could be.

As I left the area I thought about what I'd seen. On Veterans' Day we are supposed to remember veterans...that seems simple enough. World War II is the main focal point for such remembrance, but with the greatest respect not the only conflict. We all KNOW that but other wars don't hold the imagination like WWII.

And that's a shame, because even the Currahee Military Museum exposes patrons to items that date back further than the 1940's. There are World War I exhibits, as well as items from the Civil War, to mention a few.

It is perhaps proper that we focus on those who fought, and died, in combat. But, we don't let the light shine very brightly on the other people. I'm speaking of the service troops...the men who served even if not in combat. Or the ferry pilots who flew aircraft across the Atlantic whatever the weather...and many of those were women.

I extend my purview of Veterans' Day to those who served not in uniform at all, but did their duty....and still do. They are the invisible veterans...the wives and husbands, the fathers and mothers of those in the armed services who wait...and pray. Many times their prayers were not answered, but they carried on their lives anyway.

The spirit of those young men who ran up and down Currahee in the early 1940's can be found a century before, and a century after. Although as wars go Korea and Vietnam don't hold the aura of World War II, the men who fought and died in those places were no different than the men of Shiloh or the men and women of Baghdad.

Studying veterans...their actions, their motives, their way of thinking....is as fine an antidote to the grinding frustration of politics. We have to have faith in something earthly, a belief that people are at their core decent and good. Much evidence today indicates otherwise, and that is where one must be careful in discerning between fictional heroes and real-life ones.

Everyone who has served is human, with frailties and faults. But frankly, if I were asked to choose which gift is greater....a grant for billions from Washington, or the blood of a soldier who bought me and my heirs a little time to make the world right.....I'd have no hesitation in embracing the latter.

It's all well and good to thank veterans each year. It's wonderful and I applaud anyone who does.

All I ask is that you consider carefully what you're thanking them FOR.
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Cross-posted at Michael Linn Jones.com
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Kindly featured at MemeOrandum

Loss of the Greatest Generation

Picture courtesy of Dinoto Funeral Home

I hate to steal the line from Tom Brokaw but I admire his work and his tribute to the many veterans of World War II. For some of us World War II is a history that many never have the chance to understand from the point of view of those that served during the war. For that matter, many of the brave men and women that served never talked about it. They did what our nation asked and returned home changed but lived an amazing life none the less different for it.

Our veterans from World War II are fading into the final adventure that is part of life and I think it only just to pay tribute to them for the sacrifices they made when not only our nation needed them but the world needed them. I’ve posted several lost military service people here on Papamoka and I am proud of what I have posted on their behalf. I am truly thankful for all of our military people and when they have a loss so do I in my heart.

I grew up knowing my father served in World War II and in Korea. He never spoke of the horrors of his service till his later years. His later years took him from me but all the books and events he never missed when it came to veterans he passed on to his youngest son. My father and my friend was always a family man first. He lived for his family first and the past was just what it was. Jack O’Keefe didn’t bring the war home to Manor Road, he brought family to Manor Road. As much as my mother made us feel that home was our entire families home, Dad made sure that it was just that by just being our Dad. He wasn’t perfect but he was not a push over for any bull that any of his seven children could pass on at any given time.

While the pages of Military persons that are dying in Iraq or Afghanistan are filling up on the internet I find it kind of ironic that the people that fought to defend the atrocities in Europe are being laid to rest by the thousands every single day without any tribute. If any man or woman that served in any battle or war there is no generation that we as a nation should be more thankful too than the WWII Veterans.

Life is funny, my father never pushed any one of his sons into the military unless we were completely out of control. He cried when he came back home to sign my older brother up for the Navy. He didn’t regret it though. What the child he signed up learned was respect and to this day he knows what that means. If Jack didn’t make that step, our families future and that child’s future would have been very different. That was a very difficult decision and given our fathers experience during war time that he never wanted to see any of his sons experience what he endured that became a life time of pain for him.

Enough of that stuff and here is a tribute to just one other WWII Veteran. I hope and pray that his family does not mind that I post his obituary here.

Over at the Worcester Telegram they have this WWII Veterans obituary…

Robert Thore Gustafson, 88, died Friday, August 24th, at home.

He is survived by his wife of 57 years, E. Marcia (Hooker) Gustafson; his two children, The Rev. Lisabeth M. Gustafson and Donald P. Gustafson. Bob was the son of Thore and Clara (Benson) Gustafson. He is also survived by his sister, Margaret Engwall, formerly of Worcester, now residing in Beavercreek, OH. He was predeceased by his sister, Ethel V. Nelson and brothers Walter, Roy, Carl, Ralph "Nick" and G. Herbert Gustafson.

Mr. Gustafson was a lifetime resident of the Worcester/West Boylston area. He grew up in the Quinsigamond area of Worcester. After graduating from South High School in 1937, he joined the Navy, serving throughout World War II. He was serving on a cruiser during the attack on Pearl Harbor and then transferred to submarine duty in the Pacific for the remainder of the war. After returning home from the service, Mr. Gustafson went to work for the New England Telephone Company where he worked for over 37 years. - Worcester Telegram

Thank you Robert Thore Gustafson for your service to not only your nation but to your family as well. My personal thanks to his family and my condolences on his passing. Our nation and the world is a far better place to live in thanks to the people like him that did what they had to do and did it damn well!

Papamoka

Feel Free to thank a Veteran here...

Memorial Day With A TWIST

Contributed by Michael Linn Jones

About two hours drive north of Paris there is a small village; la Neuviille-Houssett. Not far from this village is a farm, dissected by a small lane. This is old country, originally civilized by the Romans and witness to centuries of the horror of warfare. Across the lane from this farm is a Cross, with a small retaining wall holding a bronze plaque.

The monument, standing about 15 feet high, looks out upon a rising field, facing a hillock where on a cloudy night in 1944, an American bomber crashed at nightfall. The aircraft split in half, and all the crew were ejected. Local men dragged the men away from the flames. They were carried to the farmhouse. Three men survived, and the other four died. One was a young man from West Virginia. He died on a kitchen table, with Last Rites being read by a local priest. Aware of the fact that the dying man was Protestant, this priest did not care; a man of God performed his duty. This particular priest turned out to be the kind of man who did a lot of things not expected of him.

The West Virginian in question was the bomber's tailgunner, a SSgt. Wetzel Kimball. Several years before he had fallen in love with a girl from Jackson, Tennessee named Camille Owen. Camille had to accept the loss of her husband, a common experience in those days.

The village priest, Father Heroux, dedicated himself to bringing closure to the families of the dead airmen. In 1946 Fr. Heroux raised the funds necessary to erect the original Cross, at the same site where it stands today. He travelled to the U.S. after the war and met Camilee and other family members of the crew.

In 1948 Camillle opted to have her husband's remains returned to the United States from his resting place at Epinal in France. He was finally laid to rest in Hollywood Cemetery in Jackson, Tennessee.

In 2001, the local people of la Neuville-Houssett learned the details of the old Cross along the farm lane. Without government involvement or support, a huge amount of money was raised, and the result is what you see in the photograph. It is, if I may say so, as much a testimony to the gratitude and good hearts of good people as it is a remembrance of dead soldiers.

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Near the southern border of the Netherlands is a small town named Margraten. Nearby is an American cemetery from World War II. Please watch this short video; it'll only take a moment of your time. It's important that you do so because within the clip is a short mention of the fact that the people of that area regularly visit the graves of the 8,000 men buried there.

What the video does not show is that following World War II, and also 9/11/2001, a system of "adopting" American graves took place. These people waited their turn to have "their" American to lay flowers upon at every American holiday, such as the 4th of July, Thanksgiving, and so on. They WAITED to have the opportunity to express their thanks to men who died long before many of them were even born.

Camille Kimball never remarried. She died a widow in 2003. After 59 years, she and her husband were finally reunited at the Hollywood Cemetery in Jackson. The love of one person for another can be most powerful, and in this case stretched for decades.
The story of the Kimballs is an interesting and poignant one. But you don't need to dwell upon them. In any city or town in this country there are cemeteries, and in each of them lies some man or woman who served us up gifts that we love but take for granted.

Sad to say, yet I'm proud to say, certain human beings in France and the Netherlands do not take these gifts for granted. It is part of their tradition that whatever frustrations they may feel in trying to figure out Americans, their gratitude is more than just talk. They walk their walk and, as in the case of Margraten, compete to do so.

Perhaps without knowing it, they are simply responding to the request of a dying Captain Miller in "Saving Private Ryan." He said, "Earn this. Earn this day."

If people an ocean away can do this, why cannot we start a similar tradition? On this Memorial Day, before you go off to your well-deserved rest or fun, take a moment to do something you've probably never thought of doing. Pick up some flowers...anywhere, it doesn't matter. Find the grave of a veteran and do no more than say "thanks."

You'll have a whole year to think about what you've done to earn that gift.

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