The most insignificant unassuming, skinny, scared and reluctant occupant of the landing boats that day has more prestige than I could ever even dream of. What they did when those doors opened, in the face of a rain of lead, changed the world for the better. Nine thousand of them never left the beach that day. I had an Uncle wounded there. He ended up healing up enough to join his comrades at the Battle of the Bulge. Never talked about it, but then he didn't really have to. The work and toil he put into "his" VFW (he was a carpenter), said everything that needed to be said. Comparing the camaraderie of our humble group to theirs is an insult to great men, and yet ours is pretty darn strong.
I've had the pleasure to thank many WWII veterans in my profession over the years, but there are very few of them still around. Two stick in my mind more than others.
- One was a Merchant Marine who sailed a wooden boat from NJ to England to take part in the initial sweeping of mines that fateful day 70 years ago. These guys went in armed only with pistols to clear the landing areas prior to the assault. They had a 70% casualty rate that day. How brave were they?
- Another vet missed that day but was shot down over Italy 4 months before the fall of Berlin. He was taken prisoner by the Germans. He ended up losing 70 pounds even though he was treated well by the guards. The Germans in charge had no food either, and suffered as much as the Americans. All could not wait for the end of Hitler in the Bunker.
So thanks to everyone who served that day, and any other day for that matter. Writing this frivolous blog is only possible through the heroics of otherwise ordinary people like them.
And here's a British gentleman with "balls bigger than pickle jars". God bless him.
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| On the ferry to France. Ladies Man. |
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