Memorial Day

As my family was visiting my parents and my sister yesterday in Prescott, AZ I had no idea that my 10 year old son would unfold a blog topic on Memorial Day for me. Life can do that for you, give you something from a source that you really don't expect on a topic you hadn't planned on writing about.

My Dad is a member of that rapidly dwindling club, WWII veteran. His piece of hell was on three islands scattered throughout the Pacific. Kwajelin, Pelilu and Okinawa to be exact. He was age 17 - 19. He was and is a Marine. He doesn't brag or fondly remember those days. He will just say he had a job to do and just did it.

Part of the celebration for my twins belated birthday with my folks and my sis was my sister giving the kids poppers. Those confetti spraying devices that contain a small amount of gunpowder and emit a small flash. So the kids were pumped up to say the least, and shooting those things off.

I really didn't think anything out of the ordinary until I looked at my father. he had this peculiar pained expression on his face. Not overt mind you, but something I could read with him being my father. It was the look in his eyes, those same eyes that have meant so many things to me over the years, that really shook me. it was like he was looking back in time. Looking back some 60 odd years.


My father has shared some stories of the hell he and others endured in the Marines. There are quite a few that I intend to put in a book some day. I'll share two with you that somehow seem to capture the essence of Memorial Day for this writer.

He was hung up on a reef during low tide while invading Pelilu. He made jokes to his nervous tank crew, after all he had been through this before and they hadn't. He was a combat veteran. He was 18. They had to wait for the tide to rise for their amphibious tank to lift off that damn reef. All the while the Japanese were shelling and mortaring his tank and two others. At last the tide obliged and the tanks headed towards the shore.

As all three tanks felt solid ground beneath them there was a blinding flash to his right. The tank adjacent to them had taken a direct hit killing all of its occupants. One of the occupants of the tank was a brother to one of my fathers crew members. My dad cradled that young, hysterical man in his arms while his other crew members literally collected what they could of the people that were in that tank. The image of my very young father offering solace to someone also so young and in so much pain who could only keep repeating, "I want my Mom, I want my Mom......", will stay with me today.

Wars build and reinforce hate. It is a by product of such a horrifying event. My last story is not about hate in action but of hate diminishing. My Dad drew, much to his ire, occupation duty as Japan was defeated. He thought he should have been shipped home after his combat experience. His combat experience secured him a spot for occupation duty since it was a big unknown going into Japan. Need less to say, he wasn't in the best of moods.

As they set up their camp, they noticed there were no civilians around. None. He figured they had been told that they would be killed so they were laying low. The next day he saw a small figure near some deserted military installation. He kept an eye throughout the course of the day as the figure drew closer. It was a small boy, perhaps 6 or 7 years of age.

The boy drew closer. He was very slight and solemn. My dad figured this young boy was in charge of finding food for what was left of his family and was determined to do just that. My dad gathered up some extra C rations and walked over to the little boy and kneeled down and gave them to him. The boy took them and walked back the way he had come. This continued for some days.

With the passage of time, the boy became a fixture at their camp. He would often sit on my Dad's lap and eat the chocolate that he would give him.

When you talk about war you also talk about hate. My dad has told me that the hate drained out of his soul as he helped that little boy and his family also survive the aftermath of war.

So this Memorial Day take a brief part of your day and remember those whose lives ended in a blinding flash and otherwise. They gave so much. They gave all of their tomorrows.