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As a 16 year old kid, I was taken under the wing of Sales Car Manager. He was a big man and strong. I would struggle taking off a rusted bolt from a license plate after a sale and trade, and he would with one strong twist free the bolt. He was a quiet man. He was always in a near drunken stupor, but he hid his drinking. He took a liking to me. I never knew he was a vet. It simply was not something people talked about who served in WWII and Korea. They never wore it on their sleeve. You had to pry for information. It was a slow night and all the sales people had gone, and we were in the process of shutting down the car dealership for the night. He had been drinking, and suddenly he started talking about Iwo Jima. He had been an 18 year old kid who landed on that beach. For one hour I listened in horror seeing his near physical pain describing the events and his experience. He stopped, we closed the dealership, and I have lived my life thinking about what the man had experienced.
My father in law was a slender quiet man. He was a concrete man. He would work like crazy until about 1pm, and then get out of the heat and drink at a local bar where construction folks gathered. He drank too much and always seemed to be even keeled where people could not see how much he had been drinking. He never talked about the war. Never wore it on his sleeve. I tried repeatedly to talk about his experience in the Phillipines, but he resisted. When I finally got him to open up, he too talked about an hour. The pain was visible. He was a quiet man, he never raised his voice......but the pain was so obvious. We never talked about it again, and about five years ago he passed. I remember his 80th birthday where we had a picture of him and his dog on the porch of his house as a 10 year old.......these two times were the only time I saw this man tear up.
We enjoy so much we take for granted because of the sacrifices of others. War is never right. However, those who served us are rarely wrong, and on one day a year when we celebrate their service, I think about these two kids serving their country and the weight they bore the rest of their lives. I am blessed to have known these two men, and even more blessed that they shared their story.
My father in law was a slender quiet man. He was a concrete man. He would work like crazy until about 1pm, and then get out of the heat and drink at a local bar where construction folks gathered. He drank too much and always seemed to be even keeled where people could not see how much he had been drinking. He never talked about the war. Never wore it on his sleeve. I tried repeatedly to talk about his experience in the Phillipines, but he resisted. When I finally got him to open up, he too talked about an hour. The pain was visible. He was a quiet man, he never raised his voice......but the pain was so obvious. We never talked about it again, and about five years ago he passed. I remember his 80th birthday where we had a picture of him and his dog on the porch of his house as a 10 year old.......these two times were the only time I saw this man tear up.
We enjoy so much we take for granted because of the sacrifices of others. War is never right. However, those who served us are rarely wrong, and on one day a year when we celebrate their service, I think about these two kids serving their country and the weight they bore the rest of their lives. I am blessed to have known these two men, and even more blessed that they shared their story.
