Dear Al and Jack:
Wow, guys, in just a matter of days June 6th will be upon us again and we’re already beginning to hear the flattering term "Greatest Generation" bantered about. Who’d a' thunk it back when we were kids? But “D-Day" gets a lot of print by the clueless media when 99% of ‘em don’t really know what it was about, how critical it was. But then, so many Americans don’t really know much about our history. That’s understandable ‘cause their teachers and professors don’t know either. We used to think our teachers were clueless. Hah!
But good buddies, I'll never forget what it cost. More importantly, not many days pass that I don’t think of you.
Jack, I’ve still got the German bayonet you sent me on the wall and somewhere around the house I’ve got the newspaper clipping of you my mom clipped from the 1944 L.A. Times. You should have been on a recruiting poster in your full battle gear with that 101st “Screamin’ Eagle” patch on your shoulder. We never learned exactly how you were killed. Was it the single German bullet or the artillery round later that day that landed on the makeshift medical tent? I guess it really doesn’t matter. We lost you. The How is academic.
Al, I regularly clean the carbine you were aiming when the FW 190 strafed Omaha beach (and sadly, you). I haven’t ever had the bullet-clipped front sight repaired 'cause it indicates you were firing at the German aircraft when you were hit. How’d I get hold of it? Your barracks bag was returned to your dad with all your personal effects (they apparently gave Senators who'd lost sons special considerations). Your dad understandably didn't want the rifle and gave it to my family. After the war, I wound up with it.
And speaking of rifles, you remember Calvin. You were already gone by early 1945 and wouldn't know his B-24 was blown up over Europe. When he enlisted, he handed me his favorite possession – his Daisy BB gun -- and said, “Will you take care of this for me till I get back?” He and I had saved our money and, in 1936, I bought a “Red Ryder” BB gun and he bought the Daisy. As I write this, and after all these years of looking after it, his “Daisy” is still leaning in the corner of my closet with his BBs in it. I can’t find any of his kinfolk to pass it along to. Maybe I’ll have to deliver it in person?
But back to D-Day. Below is an aerial photo of the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial on the shores of France, the final resting place of 9,386 young American's who died during the brief and bloody Battle of Normandy. It always gives me a strange feeling to realize your names are on two of those tiny white markers. The enormity of the setting would ordinarily lend impersonality – if I couldn’t see in my mind’s eye the two young guys I knew so many years ago. It’s absolutely of no solace whatsoever but to me you’ll always remain young and zany, while I’ve been turning old and gray. And jeez, guys . . . can you believe seventy years have flown by!
I often wonder what you’d look like had you lived. I especially wonder what you’d think of the results of your sacrifices. What would you think of the 180-degree turn in what we once called “patriotism?” I remember you both nearly broke your legs hurrying to enlist when you turned old enough. In contrast, over the ensuing generations the young people nearly broke their legs hurrying to Canada or otherwise avoiding something as dangerous and uncomfortable as serving their country. You wouldn’t find it easy reconciling with the selfish, immoral attitude of a large percentage of our population. You surely would wonder why you had paid such a dear price to create a nation now ruled by morons and thieves. Guys, you wouldn't believe the country you paid your lives for . . .
I can’t properly express my sorrow at the fact that all your dreams were ended prematurely. Often I feel guilty that I have had all these additional years of life with its experiences and opportunities. There can be no fairness in that. But rest assured, I love you guys and all the others sleeping beneath those crosses. We owe you more than we can ever repay. Sleep well, guys.
Your buddy,
--Ron
--Ron
NORMANDY AMERICAN CEMETERY AND MEMORIAL
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