FROM BOY TO MAN
On this Veteran's Day, fresh in my memory are scenes from the recent Ken Burns documentary titled, simply, "The War". I cannot remember a more spare, moving and gripping account of America's endurance, pain and spirit during Word War II. I could expect to smile, wince, gasp and usually cry at some point during each episode. Young boys from across the nation turned to men overnight, overcoming horrific odds in many cases, but uniformly stepping up to face the call of duty which had been laid upon them. Many times I was embarrassed at my own lack of historical knowledge as the stunning details of many different battles were recounted by the men and women who were there. All these years later, still easily moved to tears when revisiting, or perhaps for the first time, visiting, memories of crushing events. Most of us born in this country know someone who was there. My late father served in Berlin and seldom spoke of his experiences until much later in life. Just this past week, in our own town, a local gentlemen who was born and spent his life in this town, passed away. At his funeral service, a man who had traveled from Chicago for his service spoke. "He liberated me from a concentration camp in Austria. I was 15 years old, in the 'death room' weighing only 57 pounds. I did some research to find out where he was and we had kept in touch. I would have come from across the world to pay my respects."
No less valiant our the servicemen and women who serve today. In Iraq, Afghanistan, it doesn't matter where they are, these are the people who still understand the need to defend freedom. They understand the sacrifices of those who came and went before them, and have written that same blank check to the United States of America, payable with everything up to and including their lives. To have this day come and go without giving their cause due thought is unpatriotic, though many across the country will do so.
There are so many stories within stories when it comes to those who have served, that one could fill volumes with them and never pass a dull word. A year or so ago, the Union Leader did a piece on the history of the Macnhester, New Hampshire airport, officially named Grenier Field. The airport's history is of interest to me as I did many practice takeoffs and landings there while earning my certificate years ago. The story explained how the field had been built specifically to train pilots for the war. An older man who had flown in the war and trained there recounted how he survived the crash course in piloting. For guys like me, who don't "solo" the airplane until having received extensive ground school and typically 20 - 30 hours with an instructor beside you, the story was riveting. I remember very well the first time I flew the plane with nobody in the right seat. It's a moment you don't forget. I had never considered the thousands of flyers like this gentleman, whose "training" included a week or so with a manual. These trainers had no second seat. He told how they would study the book, get some ground instruction, and then up and away you go. Powerful planes that were tricky to fly, and they lost many men long before they got to battle. It was just the way it was. There wasn't time for extensive training programs unless you were in something big, a B-24 or 17 or a Mitchell. I remember how this tale stuck with me and left me shaking my head in amazement each time I would remember it to myself.
Across the land, in nearly every home, there is a dust-covered tale to be told somewhere in the family history. It is incumbent upon the rest of us to remember them well, as it was a time we should reflect upon, perhaps oddly, with some envy. We were all a different breed then but you can't help but wish we had that kind of unity today. It would be hard to imagine America accomplishing all she needed during that critical time having had to dodge the obstacles we have today. Hopefully, we can all still agree on one thing, that those men and women, those families who lost loved ones, deserve a moment of reflection more than once each year.
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