Memorial Day

Today we honor the veterans who fought hard to continue our American freedom. In this spirit, I honor the memory of my grandfathers who participated in World War II. They taught me about our freedom and respect for the American flag.

My paternal grandfather landed at Omaha Beach two days after D-Day. He fought under Gen. George Patton, who he respected immensely. He never talked about the war until after I telephoned him after having watched "Saving Private Ryan." My grandfather helped build roads and bridges and also participated in the Battle of the Bulge. He said Gen. Patton was rough and gruff, but he made everyone participate in religious services on Sunday. My grandfather and grandmother were active in the Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW), the Eagles and their church. We would sometimes accompany them on Memorial Day as they made their rounds of the cemetaries, putting flowers on the graves. He was also a member of the Color Guard. One of my favorite pictures of him appeared on the Omaha World-Herald's front page Memorial Day 1987. He was standing at attention, holding the American flag with the color guard unit during a ceremony at one of the local cemetaries. My maternal grandmother sent it to me as I was away at college. It crushed him when he could no longer participate in the color guard: He was hooked up to oxygen because his lungs were failing - from a Camel cigarette habit developed during the War. (When he first went on oxygen, he used to unhook himself and walk outside for a smoke. Eventually he had to quit as he couldn't do much without the oxygen.)

My maternal grandfather was embarrassed about his war participation as he never saw overseas combat. He felt he wasn't as worthy as the fighter pilots he trained. My family often teased him about being a "chicken colonel." In my naitivete, I thought it was because he wasn't able to go overseas. I only later found that was actually the slang term for colonel - that "chicken colonel" stems from the eagle that represents the rank of a full colonel. Unfortunately he died when I was 19-years-old. I was never able to fully question him about his experiences. He participated in the Army reserves for many years after his WWII service. I also heard my uncle mention that my grandfather was asked to help during the Korean combat, but he refused. I don't understand that - how can one refuse military orders? My favorite picture of him is in his lieutenant colonel's uniform, sitting on a cannon overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

Bless our troops! Without them, we would not have this great land.