Grandfather - War History

My grandfather wrote a history about his service as a foot soldier in France, in WWI.  He tells about his enlistment and receiving a Patriarchal blessing before he left:

"Your life shall be precious in the eyes of the Lord. You shall be upheld and sustained and preserved from danger, both seen and unseen, and though many may fall around you, upon the right and upon the left, in the front and in the rear, God will preserve your life, for your days are numbered and your years shall never be counted less. Whether by land or by sea your Guardian Angel shall watch over you, and your life and liberty shall be precious in His sight."

Later he wrote the following account:

"They opened up a heavy barrage on our lines. The second shell struck in the line I was in - just a couple of feet from me. The flash was terrible. The pieces flew, but (to my safety) they struck the men just in front of me. A piece, that seemed more like the whir a bayonet would make as it flew through the air than a piece of shrapnel, flew just past my ear. The concussion was so terrible it blew us backward. When I began to turn I noticed I was on my back and my pal, Bolam, was on top of me. I said to him, "Are you hurt, Bolam?" He answered, "I don't know, but I am bleeding." I began to feel around to see if my feet and legs were on. I must have been numb for so long, because Bolam and I (in fact everyone who could) moved forward. I had to step and jump over the men that shell had killed and wounded.  My, it was awful. I learned that it killed or wounded fifteen of my company pals."

This is a small sample of many pages he wrote, describing similar battles, when he witnessed the death of those around him, and yet his own life was preserved.

Other memorable parts of his war journal include stories about later responsibilities he had, to sensor and deliver the mail (he received this assignment after having a foot problem).  These stories make me smile:

"Talking about the Christmas boxes that were coming in from home - one day three large bags of mail came in loaded with nothing but boxes of candy, etc. As Bolam and I took boxes from the top of one of them we ran across a few pieces of butterscotch. Bolam said that was just the kind he liked. All the way along there were stray pieces, so we ate them. Bolam said the fellow whose box that is will surely miss it. When we came to the bottom of the bag there was the broken box. As Bol lifted it he exclaimed, "It's mine!" Well, I just rolled and laughed, but it was no laughing matter to him.

Finally in March 1919, we left St. Georges. But the night before, I had to get rid of a package I had saved. It belonged to a Danish sailor who had been drafted in Seattle but had not wanted to remain with us. He had protested. His papers had been a long time getting through. He trained with us in Camp Lewis. He went across with us and remained until just before we went into the front. He had all his civilian clothes in a sack hoping to get his release and use them. His release came after he had stored his clothes. So he had gone to Denmark, and I had his clothes with no address.  Before [I left France], Bolam and I took the [Danish sailor's clothes to the] old man Provost [a Frenchman we had come to know], and dressed him up from head to foot - hat, shoes, collar, tie and all.  It was surely funny to see the old lady [the French man's wife] dance around him. We had a lot of fun for an hour, then I told the old man they were his. You have never seen anyone so happy in your life. That was the best outfit he had ever owned."

Finally, he wrote this about his return home:

"I remembered a letter Libbie had sent to me after I had arrived in France. She said when I was in New York, she dreamed I was to sail on July 12th. That was the exact day I stepped on the Olympic for France. Now I wondered if the same spirit would warn her of my sailing for home.

...It wasn't long in coming and our wives were in our arms. I don't believe any but those who were in the thick of the fight, as we two were, can quite appreciate the thrill of seeing those one loves again."

As part of this Memorial Day weekend, I pay tribute to my grandfather, my father, my son, and all other men and women who have given, or continue to give their lives; for honor, for their families, and for freedom.  And I remember with appreciation, those who wait at home for their return.

Pearl Harbor - Sacrifice

The meaning of real sacrifice, and the fragility of life, became personally significant when we visited Pearl Harbor.  Here, on December 7, 1941, Bill's father arose and was headed to breakfast, when chaos and terror erupted aboard the battleship West Virginia (right next to the place the Missouri Battleship is now mored).  His was located three decks down when the first torpedo hit the side of the ship.  His fight for escape and survival is one he pondered and relived the remainder of his life.  He wondered why he survived such a horrific scene of twisted steel, burning oil and strafing airplanes.  Years later, he shared that the only sense he could make of it, was that he was supposed to get married and have children.

We found a quiet spot, and Bill read aloud his father's story.  As his father jumped from the ship, into water covered with burning oil, he proceeded to swim around two languishing battleships.  He saw another struggling sailor and helped him get to Ford Island.  Many years later, this fellow found and thanked him for saving his life.

His father was a member of the band, on the West Virginia, having been assigned there just three months earlier from off of the Arizona.  And the night before the attack, he had participated in the "Battle of the Bands", with his former shipmates.  Their total loss was devastating to him.  Another friend, who was a diver, found and retrieved his trumpet in the days that followed.  The blackened bell visually reminds us, daily, of the gift of life he was granted.

Bill's father remained on duty, at Pearl Harbor, for the next several years.  Besides his regular duties, he helped clean at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, and he continued with the band, welcoming in the submarine crews, and playing with visiting musicians and entertainers that came to entertain the troops, such as Bob Hope.  During his free time, he spent many hours on Waikiki Beach, surfing.

I find it interesting and profoundly meaningful, that both Bill and I have very personal ties to these islands.