Hitting Send

Memorial Day is a United States Federal Holiday commemorating U.S. men and women who have died in military service to their country. Originally known as Decoration Day, the holiday was established in Waterloo, New York on May 5, 1866. The date was later changed to May 30, as the original date didn’t coincide with the anniversary of any battle. The date was later changed, once again, to the last Monday in May in order to create a three-day Holiday weekend. Many people observe this holiday by visiting cemeteries and memorials. A national moment of remembrance takes place at 9 p.m. US Eastern time. Another tradition is to fly the U.S. flag at half-staff from dawn until noon local time. Volunteers thoughtfully place an American flag upon each grave site located in a National Cemetery.

This Holiday led me to calling my grandfather to ask him about his service in World War II and learned that of the 1,000 soldiers with whom he fought, less than one hundred are still alive today. After being rejected by the Air Force, due to less than perfect vision, he was quickly drafted by the U.S. Army on September 24, 1942. My grandmother was three months pregnant with my mother when he was shipped to Indio, CA. He was then sent from base to base around the states, before being shipped overseas on a passenger ship, the Cape Town Castle, bound for England. It was there that he received further training for duties in a Tank Battalion, before being sent to assist in the liberation of France. Here is what he has written about being sent to Omaha Beach:

We would be attached to the First Division, an experienced outfit that had won its spurs in North Africa and Sicily. Though we didn’t know it at the moment, the destination for our people was Omaha Beach.

I had few thoughts of being placed in great danger as D Day approached, for my job as message center sergeant would place me in the rear area with the division headquarters, not up on the front with the combat units. With a location like that I should suffer little stress, and worry only about long range artillery, or air strikes, but not be concerned with the shorter range weapons such as mortars, machine guns and rifle fire.

On June 6 it was announced over the radio and in the newspapers that the invasion had begun. The long waiting was over. Now we only had to learn what had happened to our Battalion of medium tanks. The light tanks were still with us.

It was not until we had been shipped across the channel that we finally discovered the extent of our losses. This event took place some four or five days after D Day, since the big question of whether or not the beach could be held was not answered until that time.

We went over in what was called an LST, or Landing Ship Tank, the same sort of vessel that had been used to ferry our tanks across the water on June 5th and 6th. It was a cumbersome ship, that handled poorly in the choppy waves that were still churning up the channel, following the big storm that had come right after the landings.

We docked at what was called a Mulberry, a huge floating dock that had been towed across from England and installed at the edge of the water on Omaha Beach. It was now receiving the thousands of reinforcements that were being poured into the beachhead, as well as we noncombatants.

Upon arrival I was struck by the solemnity of the men who were awaiting us. Their demeanor was sad, and the strain of the past four days showed mightily on their faces. The bad news came quickly, as we learned of the disaster that had over taken these men in the first hours of the landing.

There are two beautiful tales my grandfather shared with me about his experiences of his time across seas. The first occurred when he entered Paris after the Liberation. He recalled that the joy and appreciation among locals there was something to behold. French people were running up to the American soldiers to offer them wine! Yes, this I can well imagine their doing. The second tale was of his return to Paris exactly fifty years later for the celebratory parade, as his Regent had been invited to participate. It was an evening parade winding through the streets of Paris, ending at City Hall. Now, my grandfather met up with those with whom he fought annually, and would not miss this event either. It is unfortunate that somebody stole his wallet during the parade, but he celebrated and enjoyed despite that. Grandpa, you do us all proud.

I hope that you will all take a moment to honour the soldiers who have given their lives to fight for this country on Monday. In rememberance of their bravery, Blessed Memorial Day.