is just me, after spending ALL of my free time today trying to do the promised "real post". Yes, Sue... I really was going to do one! And Shanda? You were a part of it. But I cannot get connected to your site to get what I need to do my post. I can't get connected to MOST of the blogs that I usually visit, as a matter of fact. I'm not sure if it's IE, or my computer, or a fallen angel laughing in a corner. But, I decided to drop back and punt, knowing that all situations can be worked out for the good when you love God and ask for His guidance. "Memorial Day".. He whispered. "Don't forget.. NEVER forget..". So, I dutifully gathered up several old photos and artifacts with a really nice post in mind, scoffing at the roadblock thrown up by whatever force in blogland. ONLY to discover that something has gone amiss with my scanner, too, and it will NOT "convert the file" for anything that I've tried to scan. Darn, darn.. dagnabit! Oh, if you could only see my face right now... ! Well, actually, I'm laughing, so you'd just see crow's feet big enough to swallow a small child (or several chihuahuas...). Really, how funny IS this? I actually WANT to do a blog entry and can't get it done! I know God must want me to go in another direction; I just haven't figured that one out yet.
So, for now, I'll do the Memorial Day entry, sans visuals. I just wanted to put a picture of my dad, in uniform, on the site. And one of the pamphlet I found in his "stuff", titled "Galaday--A Historical Brochure Commemoration". It was given out at the dedication of Wheeler Field Airdrome and Post Office (really.. and POST OFFICE.. must have been a big deal at Pearl Harbor!), on August 7, 1941. Hmmm. that would be exactly FOUR MONTHS before Wheeler Field and Pearl Harbor were bombed mercilessly at what was the start of WW2 for the U.S.A. And my dad? Well, he had been at Pearl for over a year. As a matter of fact, I also have a packet of letters he'd written to his Aunt Alice, and it was pretty crazy reading part of what he wrote on May 27, 1941:
"Well, Auntie, I had surely made up my mind to get back to the States as soon as I had a chance, but when I listened to the President's speech this afternoon, it kind of shattered my hopes. The old boy is getting right down to cases now, and I was glad to hear it except for that one thing. Maybe it will get things in full swing. I don't want to have to miss out on any action by having to stay over here. I'll see plenty of action tho if the Japs get smart (I hope). (then there was some small talk about family, and he picked up again after that):
I'm listening to a rebroadcast of Roosevelt's speech now, and the more I hear it the more I like it. It's the second time I've listened to it. He really let Hitler know of feelings this time. I'm no war monger, but I think we have to clean him up now or be sorry for it after.
Wow. He was sitting at Wheeler Field in Hawaii, worried that he would miss out on the action. Little did he know that, 7 1/2 months later, he'd be holding a friend as he died in his arms. Or that he'd watch the aircraft at Wheeler Field get blown up, other than the few that made it off the ground. Or that Schofield Barracks would be bombed by those Japs that he "hoped" would get smart. He didn't know that he would go on from Pearl Harbor to Japan, England, France, and Germany; or that he would close out his combat time with a visit to a place called Ohrdruf. Before you click the link, let me warn you that there are some graphic photos and descriptions there; but what else can you expect from one of Hitler's death camps? Dad never once mentioned visiting this horrible place until about a year before he died. I think he spent the fifty years following that visit doing everything he could to forget it, because man simply isn't programmed to be able to deal with that sort of cruelty.
But one thing he never, EVER forgot was his love for the United States of America. He loved this country with all his heart; he put a flagpole in concrete in the front yard and proudly raised and lowered Old Glory each and every day. And he instilled that love and pride in me, as well. So, Dad? Thanks... for so many things. Most of all for being the warrior that you always were, whether it was for your country, your family, or your Savior. I wish my Bug Hunter could have known you, but I rest in the promise that someday, he will. Til then... I love you, Dad.
Happy Memorial Day, my friends.
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5 kind comments:
Bug Hunter will get to know him one day...just as my Littlest One will get to know my dad.
Your post displayed such a true sense of how many a man entered war back then. Filled with honor and decency and the expectation that the rest of the world would surely hold to those same standards...war is anything but romantic or pretty. Praise God for men like your Daddy who were willing to go; willing to invest blood, sweat and tears in defense of and on behalf of so many and so much throughout the years.
Sorry the "forces that be" kept you from your other post! God will turn it to good in His timing I am sure!
Sleep well my friend!
Thanks for such a wonderful post.
Well, when you decide to come back, you really come back with a doosie (sp?)!! Such a poignant reminder of a time we can only imagine. We think we know war...with Viet Nam, and the Gulf, and Afghanistan and Iraq. But we know nothing when compared to the horrors of World War II and the Holocaust. Such degradation, such violation of the human spirit, such inhumanity to man, woman, and child. The Holocaust killed more than people. It killed the very essence of everything people hold dear: home, family, country, God, hope, faith, dignity, honor. At least it tried to kill those things, and it may have succeeded temporarily for most But there were a few who retained their clarity during the indignity of that war, a few who even in the middle of the horror of the camps retained their humanity and were sustained by their faith. Those are the glory stories, the stories where God is evident even in the midst of abject terror and humiliation.
The reminder of a God that never fails, even when people do.
God was a light in the black hole of the Holocaust. The omnipresent promise of hope. And so were the soldiers like your father, the ones who were dedicated to the preservation of human life and all it entails. They were the tangible hope of the people in the camps, the hope that meant freedom was still possible. And they continue to be the hope of our country today. The hope that freedom is still possible. For us. For the nation. For the world.
For the glory of God.
Thank you for this wonderful post, for sharing your father with us, and for the reminder that while our blessings come from God, they are often delivered by men and women in uniform.
This is just a wonderful post and tribute to your dad. I am glad you decided to write it even without pictures!
Wow! What a post! It makes me think of my own grandparents. My grandpa was in the desert shortly after this involved in the first test of the atomic bomb. My husband's grandpa became a prisoner of war and was held for over a year. I'm always in awe of our soldiers. I don't know what kind of inner strength soldiers have to have to put their own lives at risk for their country. All I know is that our country wouldn't be the same without these brave men and women.
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