thedrifter
06-19-07, 10:40 AM
VOICE OF THE DAY »
Thank WWII heroes at every possible opportunity
I recently met a hero, whom I will refer to as "Earl." He came to my office to discuss a legal matter, but our discussion quickly changed to other issues. Earl is in his mid-80s and lives alone. He is a quiet, dignified person and was guarded in his speech until our conversation turned to our respective military careers. For my part, there wasn't much to say, but Earl's story left me in awe.
He and two brothers (he was the sixth of 11 children) joined the Marines on the day after Pearl Harbor. In a casual, matter-of-fact tone, Earl explained that his first taste of combat came during the first amphibious landing and assault on Iwo Jima. He observed the raising of the flag on Mt. Siribachi and was a friend of several of the men shown in the famous picture, all but two of whom were subsequently killed on Iwo Jima.
Earl told of many fascinating stories about Iwo Jima and his three years in the South Pacific, including a plane crash in the New Guinea highlands where he sustained serious injuries. This was uncharted land solely inhabited by fierce looking, uncivilized natives who terrified Earl, especially in his defenseless condition. However, contrary to the horror stories that he had heard of these people, he found them to be gentle, friendly and extremely intelligent.
There was one elderly man who especially befriended Earl, who stayed by his side, treating his wounds and providing him with food and water until he was ultimately found and rescued. This old gentleman knew nothing of Earl, his language or his culture, yet he worked unconditionally to save Earl's life and went through great personal hardship to do so. During the days of hoping and waiting for his rescue, Earl spent much of his time thinking of the irony of his situation and the world that he presently inhabited. He was in an unknown land, in the custody and control of people he previously considered to be bloodthirsty cannibals. He also thought of the comparison between these gentle, caring people, as opposed to the island of horror, blood and mayhem from whence he came. Earl was forced to consider the inescapable issue of which of these societies truly was "civilized" and which ones still had some work to do.
I have no idea how long we talked, only that it was too short. When we finally had to say goodbye, I shook Earl's hand and told him what an honor it had been to meet a true American hero. Unfortunately, my words seemed to have the unintended effect of making Earl quite uncomfortable and I could see tears welling in his eyes. After a brief interlude, he finally spoke, stating, "Nobody ever said that to me before, but I'm not a hero. The heroes are my buddies, the boys that didn't make it home." Of course, it was vitally necessary to set Earl straight on this idea. I responded, "No, Earl, make no mistake about it. You are a true hero." With no further words spoken, our handshake became a hug and we, two grown men of different generations, heretofore total strangers, cried together unabashedly.
World War II veterans like Earl are presently leaving us at a great rate. Let's never forget that the hardships and sacrifices of these heroes made it possible for us to enjoy the quality of life we all enjoy today and too often take for granted. Before it's too late, please take the time to tell one of these great men or women how grateful you are. Heroes are not always on television or in the movies. Sometimes, they are much closer than you may think. You may even have a hero in your neighborhood. I was blessed to find one in my own office.
Douglas Greene is from Willard.
Ellie
Thank WWII heroes at every possible opportunity
I recently met a hero, whom I will refer to as "Earl." He came to my office to discuss a legal matter, but our discussion quickly changed to other issues. Earl is in his mid-80s and lives alone. He is a quiet, dignified person and was guarded in his speech until our conversation turned to our respective military careers. For my part, there wasn't much to say, but Earl's story left me in awe.
He and two brothers (he was the sixth of 11 children) joined the Marines on the day after Pearl Harbor. In a casual, matter-of-fact tone, Earl explained that his first taste of combat came during the first amphibious landing and assault on Iwo Jima. He observed the raising of the flag on Mt. Siribachi and was a friend of several of the men shown in the famous picture, all but two of whom were subsequently killed on Iwo Jima.
Earl told of many fascinating stories about Iwo Jima and his three years in the South Pacific, including a plane crash in the New Guinea highlands where he sustained serious injuries. This was uncharted land solely inhabited by fierce looking, uncivilized natives who terrified Earl, especially in his defenseless condition. However, contrary to the horror stories that he had heard of these people, he found them to be gentle, friendly and extremely intelligent.
There was one elderly man who especially befriended Earl, who stayed by his side, treating his wounds and providing him with food and water until he was ultimately found and rescued. This old gentleman knew nothing of Earl, his language or his culture, yet he worked unconditionally to save Earl's life and went through great personal hardship to do so. During the days of hoping and waiting for his rescue, Earl spent much of his time thinking of the irony of his situation and the world that he presently inhabited. He was in an unknown land, in the custody and control of people he previously considered to be bloodthirsty cannibals. He also thought of the comparison between these gentle, caring people, as opposed to the island of horror, blood and mayhem from whence he came. Earl was forced to consider the inescapable issue of which of these societies truly was "civilized" and which ones still had some work to do.
I have no idea how long we talked, only that it was too short. When we finally had to say goodbye, I shook Earl's hand and told him what an honor it had been to meet a true American hero. Unfortunately, my words seemed to have the unintended effect of making Earl quite uncomfortable and I could see tears welling in his eyes. After a brief interlude, he finally spoke, stating, "Nobody ever said that to me before, but I'm not a hero. The heroes are my buddies, the boys that didn't make it home." Of course, it was vitally necessary to set Earl straight on this idea. I responded, "No, Earl, make no mistake about it. You are a true hero." With no further words spoken, our handshake became a hug and we, two grown men of different generations, heretofore total strangers, cried together unabashedly.
World War II veterans like Earl are presently leaving us at a great rate. Let's never forget that the hardships and sacrifices of these heroes made it possible for us to enjoy the quality of life we all enjoy today and too often take for granted. Before it's too late, please take the time to tell one of these great men or women how grateful you are. Heroes are not always on television or in the movies. Sometimes, they are much closer than you may think. You may even have a hero in your neighborhood. I was blessed to find one in my own office.
Douglas Greene is from Willard.
Ellie