A Story For Veteran's Day
I'd like to share excerpts from an article that appeared in the Washington Post in 1942 [the soldier's name will be omitted here]:
"An American soldier, who had given himself up as fatally wounded after lying unattended for nearly 8 hours in an African poppyfield, who was rescued and taken prisoner by a German patrol, and regained conciousness beside a dead Nazi is under treatment at Walter Reed Hosptial...
"'I thought my days were ended, Pvt._____recalled today. One bullet had hit me in the wrist and two others were in my right chest. I couldn't breathe. Our own forces had retired and the fire of our own artillary had begun to replace the bursting German 88mm shells which had originally swept the field.
I was conscious but I couldn't do anything, although I was able to bandage my wound after a fashion and take my sulfanilanide tablets. I remained where I had fallen for seven or eight hours without water under the glaring sun. Just at dusk, I looked up and there was a German patrol. Walking ahead of it, a prisoner, was one of the men from my own company -Red Sams. "Hey Red", I yelled, getting up on my elbow so they would see me...
...on the direction of the Germans, Reds picked me up and I passed out."'
It was morning when Pvt._______regained consciousness. He found himself lying in a German pillbox beside a dead German soldier.
'"A German sergeant came up to me and gave me a piece of black bread. It was hard as a rock, but it tasted good. I tried to motion to him that I didn't want to stay by the dead German, and he fixed up a bed for me in his own hole under a rock.
Some of the Germans treated me pretty good but some were unfriendly. After keeping me there a couple of days, they finally put me on a horse and then, with one German leading the horse and another sitting up behind me...they got me to a field hospital, put me on an ambulance that took me to a hospital at Tunis. There I got some medical attention and a doctor took the bullets out of my chest. He couldn't speak English but he told me in sign language that the bullets had just missed my lungs and that I was lucky to be alive."'
There are several more paragraghs from this article...and the soldier was still in the hospital when Tunis fell and the German hospital staff were replaced by English staff.
As a young child I was perplexed by the scar across my father's chest - and it would only be a rare, hot summer day when he'd take off his shirt and I'd get a glimpse of it. Most times I tried not to stare. He said it was a "war wound" and to me it looked like a giant feather stretching across his chest. Having seen a photo of my father dressed like a cowboy and sitting on a horse - I "imagined" that he sustained the injury while battling Indians.
It wasn't until I was a teenager, while rumaging through a box in the basement...I found the Washington Post article. Anytime I hugged my father after reading the article...I always hugged him harder and told him how much I loved him even more.
Several years ago I made a copy of the article -and had decided not to share the details of my father's experience with my son until after he turned 20 [this past May]...the same age as my father was when he was wounded. I also took him to visit a War Veteran's and Memorial Wall, where my father name is listed on the "honor roll".
There are many things that remind me of my father (passed away 24 years ago) and his service and experience in WWII...not everyday, but often. He would not want me to reflect on this everyday -because he dealt with physical pain and PTSD everyday. He knew that his dedication to Our Country would lessen any suffering of his own children. He taught us to be patriotic and to appreciate and honor all servicemen and woman. And I do so while being able to reflect on what I've learned of my father's experience.
There are now many more generations of war Veteran's since WWII, and I pray for all who have served and for the safety of those who are now. I also pray that War will not have to be experienced by future generations.
Pam
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