How I Know
As I passed through the kitchen a few minutes ago my wife, who was watching President Obama’s address at Arlington Cemetery, snarled “I, I, I”, referring to the Commander-in-Chief’s favorite pronoun. I paused long enough to hear him begin a description of the tough military decisions he has to make, then headed to the keyboard to write this.
I sometimes tell my children there is a distinct and valuable difference between knowing something intellectually and knowing it “in your gut”, and as their experience grows, so will their ability to distinguish one from the other in both themselves and others. I think of this often as I watch our president recite the proper lines for any given occasion. There is sometimes the sense that he knows what he is supposed to say, but no appreciation for why he should say it, beyond preservation of his image.
On this Memorial Day I thought I would give thanks to two men who have given me something I don’t believe Barack Obama has-- that gut-level appreciation for the sacrifice of military service.
This fresh-faced kid is my wife’s father Jack. This afternoon we will be visiting him at the Alzheimer’s care facility where he resides. At twenty-one he was part of an Army Air Force outfit known as the “Hump Pilots”, men who flew unarmed cargo planes from Burma and India over the Himalayas to supply American, British, and Chinese forces fighting the Japanese. Before Alzheimer’s disease claimed his ability to clearly communicate, he told me that he had lost many friends, not to enemy fire, but to the unforgiving terrain over which they flew. Teary-eyed, he said, “That was such a short period of my life, but it meant so much.” Jack received two Distinguished Flying Medals, and was made an honorary member of the Chinese Air Force. Among the memorabilia we found in moving him from his home to assisted care were his original topographic maps showing his flight route over Mt. Everest. These are now framed and displayed in our home.
The other man was my uncle and namesake. An Army reservist working in the family dry goods store in rural Missouri, he was called to duty to train infantrymen in 1939, when war with Germany appeared possible. His first combat experience was to lead the first American troops to land in the invasion of Africa. At the vanguard of Operation Torch, the largest military operation in history at that time, his company landed on the Moroccan coast in darkness, with orders to use only knives and hand-to-hand combat until daylight, and to avoid engaging the French forces, since it was thought they would lay down their arms once the invasion began. He was killed by Vichy French artillery two days later.
Among the rememberances we have of Captain Casteel is this passage from “Where’s Sammy”, the memoires of a WWII-era news photographer:
“A hot poker game got under way. It was a swell game, that last one on board the Thomas Jefferson. Seven card stud with deuces wild. Nobody mentioned the impending landing, even though the ship seemed to be slowing down. The main topic was the turkey dinner. Each tried to out-brag the other on the amount he ate. Every once in a while somebody in the game would call across the room to Captain Casteel, who had played in some of our earlier games, to stop writing to all his relatives and pull up a chair. But by midnight Captain Casteel was still writing, and we had long since stopped calling to him. He was too serious. Each of us in the game must have thought what I found myself thinking: that we should be doing the same thing. Captain Casteel must have known something was going to happen to him. He must have felt the need to be tying up the loose ends of his life. He was killed during our battalion’s march on Casablanca.”
The other remembrance is the faded Western Union Telegram his wife received informing her of her husband’s death—a form of notification so stark that it’s impossible for me to imagine a time when these were commonplace.
Are any other Ricochet members as lucky as I am to have had the influence of these kinds of men? Let us hear about it.
- Comment (17)
- · Quote
- · UnfollowFollow (1)
Comments :
Re: How I Know
What a poignant contrast you make between our current Commander in Chief and the sorts of men we remember today.
Your descriptions of both men who've influenced you were very moving. And the passage describing your Uncle sent me to tears.
Today, I remember my own grandfather, who served in the Navy during the second World War aboard the USS Princeton, an aircraft carrier that was sunk in the Battle of Leyte Gulf in 1944. My grandfather didn't often speak about his time in the war, even though I'm sure it affected him a great deal. He just didn't see his service as something to boast about or to hold over anyone's head. He was called, and he went, without dragging his heels or bemoaning his lot. Not a perfect man, but his attitude was exemplary.
Re: How I Know
Beautiful, J. C. Just beautiful. My father served for more than three years during the Second World War on the Coast Guard Roger B. Taney. The demand for ships was such during the conflict that he found himself far, far from our own coasts, seeing duty both in waters off Africa and all over the Pacific. The most sickening sights of his life: the kamikaze attacks on the fleet during the battle of Okinawa. Staggering, just staggering to recognize that my father wasn't much older than his grandson, our oldest boy, who graduated from high school this past Friday.
My father survived the war but lost part of his lung to asbestosis, which he almost certainly contracted, the doctors told us, from inhaling the asbestos fibers that filled the air in the boiler room aboard the Taney. He died a decade-and-a-half ago, from conditions related to the asbestosis, a delayed casualty of the fighting.
Apr '11
Re: How I Know
I"ve met a man like you mentioned.
A member of the first battalion to cross the German border, he mentioned his time in WWII once saying "war isn't life....war is hell. I would rather live life."
Married 53 years. One of 8 children, 6 children of his own. I've watched him bury his 7 siblings and never seen him cry, yet, there's never been any question as to his love and loyalty to his family. He stands on his principles with unwavering strength. He raised his children to love and hold dear those close to them. To work hard and trust in God. To pray, knowing the answer will be what is best, not necessarily what you want. To fight for what is right, whether or not you can win, but because if you don't fight for right you lose. Never ask more than someone's best, but require it of them and yourself. Respect is earned. Nothing lasts or is unconditional except love. Friendships are to be treasured. If you have 5 true friends count yourself lucky.
I consider myself luckier than most.
Thanks Dad.
Jun '10
Re: How I Know
My father-in-law, a Chief Petty Officer in the Navy, fought in World War II, was at the Normandy landings, and served during the Cold War, Korean War, and the Vietnam War.
My father, an Air Force Technical Sergeant, served during World War II, the Cold War, in the Korean War, and in the Vietnam War.
Both men were forever marked by their service. Both taught me unforgettable life lessons. I was privileged to listen to seldom told tales they shared with me but with few others, because, I guess, the considered me a part of the fraternity.
I miss them.
I also miss my sister, a Petty Officer 2nd Class in the Navy, who served during the Cold War.
May '10
Re: How I Know
My veteran relatives didn't talk about their war experiences, and died before I was old enough to ask.
One grandpa was a tank commander under Patton in North Africa. After being blasted by shrapnel, the medics passed him by, believing he was dead. So the shrapnel was still working its way through his veins and out of his skin when I was a boy.
The other practiced courage of a different sort, testing the local eateries in India so our soldiers knew what food was safe and worth eating. Before learning about this, I wasn't aware India was even involved in WWII.
A great uncle was a Marine at Tarawa and many of the island battles. Unsurprisingly, he was the quietest of the bunch.
The next generation of my family served during Vietnam, outside of combat. My cousin currently serves in the Air Force, and friends in other branches.
I'm honored by them all... and by the many soldiers I'll never know. Thank you.
No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends.
— John 15:13
Jun '10
Re: How I Know
My father was part of the Second Armored Division (the "Hell on Wheels Division"). Dad and his unit landed on Omaha Beach on D-Day+3, and immediately moved forward into the hedgerows, where his unit was in action almost every day for several weeks.
After the allies broke out of Normandy, his unit went northeast, ending up near the German border in the neighborhood of Liege, Belgium and Aachen, Germany. On the morning of October 6, 1944 (ten days after his 20th birthday), his Sherman tank was taking the lead going through farmland on a cold, wet morning. Almost immediately his tank was hit by a German 88 mm cannon shell. One man in Dad's tank was killed, another lost his leg at the knee, and Dad lost about half of his upper right arm. So ended his war.
He had multiple surgeries and his arm was permanenttly locked into a bent position (like it was in a sling). I think it hurt him a lot, but I never once heard him complain. There was no hint of the victim in him.
He died two years ago, proud to have served, and a good conservative to the end.
Dec '10
Re: How I Know
My uncle was in the Army Air Corps during WWII and stayed in until he retired, after Vietnam. When he recently passed, I grabbed a plane for his memorial service in a tiny church in a small town.
It was a fine and close-knit service, almost cheery after his long life. Then the doors to the church flew open and a stomping raucous made its way to the front. It was shocking, to say the least. An Air Force Honor Guard struck and folded the Flag, presenting it to my aunt, then they stomped outside to some shade.
After the service, I thanked the Major that led the Guard and asked her if that a was common courtesy offered to long-retired personnel. She said that this case was special, as the Air Force had a high regard for the Colonel. She asked me what I knew about his service and I said I remembered some of the Cold War events and Vietnam. She told me that during WWII, he had been shot down behind the lines, captured as a POW, escaped, then made his way back to safety on foot. He did that four times. RIP Uncle Ray.
May '10
Re: How I Know
I'll second Peter's thoughts, J.C. My grandfathers were young Missouri farm boys who didn't know much of the world; St. Louis probably seemed like the end of the earth to them. Both were drafted during WWII, served and, like many others mentioned here, really didn't share much. My maternal grandfather served in the Navy at the Panama Canal, and my paternal grandfather in the Pacific theater. He was in the Philippines on V-J Day and served in Kyoto during the occupation. Absent Hiroshima and Nagasaki, he likely would have participated in an invasion force. I have his ribbons and medals.
I also have to mention my wife's grandfather, and our younger son's namesake. His stories in particular remind me that Memorial Day is a time of sadness but also of immense pride. He served stateside because his only brother was killed in action in Italy. He still has his brother's dog tags and shows them frequently. Sadly, neither of them had many memories of their own father, who died shortly after returning from service in WWI. We do not know, but suspect he was exposed to chemical weapons during combat.
Dec '10
Re: How I Know
J.C. you had greater patience because the channel was changed after the first "I"
Growing up during the 1960s and 70s was a wonderful experience and I felt fortunate and blessed to have a father who served as an instrument flight mechanic on B-24s. I had a bevy of Uncles who served during World War II and a number of friends who's fathers did too. Not to overlook the contribution of women, my mother and aunts served in a variety of jobs in and out of the military supporting the war effort. My parents both passed away within a month of one another in 2009 shortly after celebrating their 60th wedding aniversary. The rarely used a cedit card, paid off their house ahead of time (during the Carter years no less) all while putting three kids through school.
After visiting Ft.Snelling Cemetery yesterday and noticing the ever increasing number of headstones that say "World War II" or "Korean War" I was once again reminded of how quickly that generation is fading into history and how much I will miss their steady hand and influence once they are gone.
Aug '10
Re: How I Know
With a catch in my throat I read items as these and with a tear in my eye I thank God there have been so many so willing to do what was necessary to insure our freedoms, their lives forever marked - my gratitude is immense.
Those who have lost loved ones my heartfelt appreciation for the sacrifice is beyond words with humbled sincerity.
Apr '11
Re: How I Know
After reading these wonderful tributes another comes to mind.
My Great Uncle, a belly gunner in a bomber squadron, was shot down on a return trip after a bombing run. The surviving crew was captured and spent the rest of the war in a POW camp. The story ends 50 years later.......on the 50th anniversary of the day his plane was shot down a Frenchman sent a piece of the plane they were flying, when shot down, to each of the surviving crew with a handwritten letter of thanks for freeing his country from German Occupation.
I guess there's at least one person in France who realizes the sacrifice made by all those great men. No matter their country or allegiance. May God rest all their souls. May we never forget.
Jun '10
Re: How I Know
Any war heroes I've talked to like to talk about the crazy characters they met in the service, about practical jokes they played, or the rules they got away with breaking. I think, they think, if they start talking about the combat, they'll cry. They don't want to cry. So, they talk about the bootleg wine they made and got sick from.
Dec '10
Re: How I Know
Yep etoiledunord, my dad was like that. One of the few stories he told was being in a large encampment, at night, shortly after the D-Day landing, with everyone was on edge, when the sound of a lone aircraft broke through the quiet. He said, once the engine noise identified the plane as enemy, all hell broke loose as they fired their anti-aircraft artillery for all they were worth. He said they lit the place up like daylight.
The only injury Dad sustained in two years in the European theater was a persistent ringing in his ears from firing those big guns. He claimed it was one of the best times of his life. And he had a pretty good life. There's something to be said for fighting evil as your raison d'etre.
I left a short tribute on the member feed so you could see my hero.
Jul '10
Re: How I Know
Yep etoiledunord, My Grandpa fought WWII and would share no stories except: "There We were.... July 4th.... shooting... firefights... bombs....cannon fire.... the noise... My gawd the noise... chaos everywhere.... and ol' Skunk says,'I wish We had some fireworks so We could celebrate.'"
May '11
Re: How I Know
Perhaps duty runs in families. My father and his four male siblings all served in WWII. The oldest brother was a radio operator on PBYs from 1942 until the end of the war, my Dad served in the Army infantry in North Africa, at Anzio (wounded) and in the Apennines, the next younger brother was a tank destroyer commander at the invasion of southern France in Aug. 1944 (wounded), the next younger finished Marine OCS in time to serve at Iwo Jima (severely wounded), and the youngest graduated from Army OCS as Germany surrendered but made a career of the Army retiring as a LT COL after service in Vietnam in 1968.
These men set a wonderful example for me in terms of love, honor, hard work, and commitment. All of them spoke little of their service except for humor and tall tales. I learned of the service that they delivered as they spoke in love and respect of their siblings. I learned of my father's campaigns as I prepared to bury him from the DD214 required to fulfill his desire to be laid to rest in a national cemetery.
In the family tradition, I served in Vietnam.
May '11
Re: How I Know
My maternal grandfather Ross Loyst, volunteered for the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry leaving a wife and three young children in Canada. He fought in Operation Husky during the invasion of Sicily and also was involved in the liberation of Holland. He never talked about anything bad, he used to belly ache about "Them bloody Yanks" with their Coca-cola and chocolate falling out of their pockets :)
My wife's paternal grandfather was in his mid 30's when he was drafted into the Japanese imperial army, very near the end of the war, he left a young wife, two young daughters and a business that he had built with his own two hands. He never returned, my wife's family has only be able to figure out that his last orders were that he was sent to the Philippines, but that is it, they do not know where he died, or when, they did not know for many years if he was even dead or alive, this was not uncommon here in Japan.
Dec '10
Re: How I Know
Stu reminds me of the extraordinary life of a guy I worked for at a restaurant start-up while in college. He was a wiry agile guy in his 70s named Bernie. It turns out, in addition to being an Olympic figure skater and coach, he was unfortunate enough to have been in the Japan (one parent was Japanese) when Pearl Harbor was bombed and was immediately conscripted in the Japanese Imperial Army. He spoke no Japanese. I don't know the details of his experience. I only know he went on to the Olympics and started a wing restaurant which is now a national chain: Buffalo Wild Wings. I was the restaurant's first employee and, yes, I volunteered to wear a chicken suit to some OSU football games to advertise for it. Hey - we're all young and foolish once... or twice.