Memorial

copyright Kanzensakura – my father, far left, Paris, 21st birthday

Memorial
“The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war.” – Douglas Macarthur

My father, aged 21, in Paris. He had left the horrors of Omaha Beach behind him. This was his 21st birthday and his two best friends celebrated it with him. I look at his smile, insouciant, not showing the future of night terrors he had until he died. The flag was folded and given to my mother at his funeral; it was inherited by me when she died. When I think of sacrifice, I think of those bodies floating in the bloodied water that he said they walked on to get to get to shore, when they landed on that horrible beach. When I think of memorial, I think of those of us left behind who remember those we love who have traveled on before us.
Memorial Day –
the sound of Taps floating
across the cemetery

dVerse Poets Pub and NaPoWriMo14

copyright kansakura

The prompt today is from dVerse Poets Pub is “brother”.  The prompt for NaPoWriMo14 is conversation. I have combined the two.  In this conversation, my father speaks to us and to me. He is the young, cocky kid on the left. Deceptively slow moving and good natured, he won awards for his marksmanship – he was a sniper. He rarely spoke of WWII and never spoke of Gypsy and Pete without weeping.

“…We few, we happy few, we band of brothers, For he today who sheds his blood with me shall be my brother…”
William Shakespeare “Henry V”

魂の兄弟魂の兄弟 – Tamashī no kyōdai – Brothers of the Soul
Who could tell our future
that day in Paris,my 21st birthday .
Standing beside the two of you,
Gypsy and Pete,
Looking into the camera
smiling, assured.
We trained together
and survived Omaha Beach –
When one fell,
The other two would reach down to
raise him up,
Our guns blazing,
Muzzles hot to the touch
and smells of the ocean,
Of blood, of human waste, of death
all around us.
The three of us pushing our way to safety –
Stepping over bodies
and slipping on puddles of blood
on the sand,
and sleeping that night
entwined like puppies
at peace after a day of romp.
Would we have wanted to look
into the future on my birthday
and know that within two weeks
Gypsy and Pete would die.
That I would die at 60 –
My heart exploding in my chest
and sending deadly shrapnel
throughout my body
to kill me within minutes.
That day years ago
the two of you died,
My heart broke within me.
My brothers,
more dear than those left behind
in that small town,
on that poor farm
in Virginia.
that since that day,
Only at the birth of my daughter
would there be someone I would love as much.

Veteran’s Day: Thank you

My father lied about his age so he could join the Army and fight for our country’s freedom during WWII. He was a sharpshooter and made the landing on Omaha Beach. He spoke of walking, in the water, on the bodies of fallen comrades as he made his way to shore. He wept, deep wrenching sobs. He was a frightened boy from the Virginia countryside but he moved forward to try to keep more of his comrades from dying from enemy fire. He rarely spoke of the war and he always cried when he did. He was awarded the Bronze Star for valor. My father felt he didn’t deserve it and that all those who died around him should have been given the award. They gave all they had.

Thank a veteran today. If you see a service person in line in front of you, buy their lunch, breakfast, coffee. Say thank you. They are giving you all they have.  If you have the freedom to disagree with our government, protest against wars, speak your mind about anything, then thank a veteran.

June 6, 1944 and My Papa

Many words will be spoken and written about this day. Mine will be brief and personal. My papa was part of the Normandy Invasion. Years later, he barely spoke of all that transpired and that happened to a soft spoken country boy who lied about his age and volunteered for duty. He was 16 but claimed to be 18. Papa’s band of brothers all had names for each other. His was “Country” but not “Country” in a down-putting way. It was a tribute to his slow, Southern speech, his generous heart, and his stubbornness and will to survive. I wrote about some of this in my post when I accepted the Inner Peace award in his memory (http://kanzensakura.com/2013/06/15/inner-peace-award).

He was a sharpshooter. A mild title for a brutal job. The few of his buddies who were able to come to his funeral spoke of him and how his ability often saved their lives, how his sweet smile and prankish behavior saved their souls by making them laugh and forget the hell around them, if only for a moment.

The picture of him (handsome guy on the left) was taken on his 21st birthday in Paris. His two best buddies in the picture with him, died within the next two weeks. We are rapidly losing this Greatest Generation as age and time takes its toll. We have much to thank them for. When we honor our vets, don’t forget to include these men and women in those ceremonies. I have much to be thankful for, but on a personal level. I always think of my papa and am thankful I am his daughter. I have been told I look like him. I’d like to hope I am also share some of the traits that made him such a loving and loveable person. To the Greatest Generation – thank you and God bless you.

Inner Peace Award

Bronze Star Medal; Decoration of the U.S. Military (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

AjayTao and Clowie nominated me for this award and it is with great joy that I accept this award on behalf of my beloved Papa.  My papa was 16 when he lied about his age and joined and became part of the Third Army during WWII.  He was a sniper and earned high honors for marksmanship and a bronze star for valor.It is not however, his actions of battle, but rather his action of compassion that merits this award.  It was bitter cold in France.  Many of the soldiers had inadequate food, clothing, boots……because Papa, “Country” as his buddies called him, was one of those gentle, kind, funny, deceptively slow moving youngsters, he became a great favorite with all.

One day, he was in the mess tent grabbing a quick bite.  In front of him was a thin, shivering young man in a wet uniform, limping his way through the line.  Papa looked down and saw he was wearing wet, ragged socks.  During war and especially in winter, your feet are all important to guard and care for.  Papa asked the young man where his boots were and was shocked when he was told, “I haven’t had boots for several weeks, just socks.”  Then and there, Papa left the tent and went to the quartermaster and begged boots, dry socks, dry pieces of uniform.  He returned to the tent and gave to the young man who began to cry at the gift.  He asked Papa’s name and thanked him.

A few days later, Papa was going through a field of wounded soldiers for “clean up duty”.  He looked down into the dead face of the young man.  At the body recovery tent, Papa was called in and given a small bundle.  It consisted of a handkerchief, a bar of soap in army issue soap box, a stub of a pencil, and a New Testament stained with blood.  Inside, the young man had written that his belongings were to be given to my father.  “I have no family and he was more than a brother to me.”  I still have these items today, just as Papa handed them down to me.

Years later, Papa finally told some of the war stories.  He only told this one once and he wept the whole time.  He shook with sobs as he said, “At least his feet were warm.”

My Papa survived hell but with a tear in his soul that never fully healed.  In spite of this, he was a loving man.  Serene, gentle, funny….at peace with the world his God had created.  Birds were not afraid of him, all animals fell under his spell, babies reached out their trusting arms to him.  He spent his life loving and taking care of those who could not care for themselves.  His sapphire blue eyes reflected heaven and in spite of everything, you could look in his eyes and see peace and gratitude.

So this award is really for my Papa.  It was given to me by Ajay and Clowie – two other gentle sousl. T thank them for this award. I thank God’s grace for giving me the peace of knowing His love is constant, just like my earthly Papa.

May you all find peace within.