My Father’s Patriots Month

Memorial Day in our family marked the beginning of what my dad called “Patriot’s Month.”  It included Memorial Day, DDay Invasion Anniverary on June 6th, Flag Day, June 14th and Independence Day, July 4th.  The flag flew on our front porch for that entire month.

Memorial Day
As I went through the pictures my dad had of WWII, I noticed a name and then an additional note, killed, a date and the location.  I know it was for those buddies he shed a tear, every time he said the Pledge, or heard the National Anthem. I would  see him bow his head, take off his glasses and wipe the tears away.  For many years I didn’t understand.  While in Luxembourg we went to the American Cemetery there.   As we walked through the gate, facing the graves was a line of men my father’s age, quietly kneeling with heads bowed.  Dad silently joined them.  I could not even imagine the horrors of war they had all experienced.

DDay, June 6th
I had heard stories about my dad, driving his Model T on the sidewalks, filling a guy’s gas tank with water and many more ornery stories.  That was not, however, the man who returned from the Army after WWII in the in fall of 1945.

Upon the bombing of Pearl Harbor, he and all young men he knew in Konawa, Oklahoma, went down to enlist in the Army.  Most of his friends were accepted, but weighing 145 lbs and being 6 feet tall, he was told to gain some weight and come back.  In the next few months people would spit on him and ask him,”Why didn't you go to war?”  In his frustration he went to his good friend, Roy Stevens, who he had worked for at the service station.  Roy knew someone on the draft board and he assured Dad he could get him into the Army, which he did.

Within a few months he was off to Basic Training.  He left thinking he would never return, since most who had left for WWI had never returned.  Knowing my dad, he must have thought that he was off on the greatest adventure of his life.  He had never been out of the state of Oklahoma and now he was off to see the world. The thing I most remember him saying about WWII was, “It was the best, worst experience of my life.”

Training in Ft. Benning Georgia.....Dad is the one looking back int he dark hat.  Mosquitos stories....

Omaha Beach, 1944.  The 455th Battalion went in on July 6, 1944, a month after the initial invasion but still under fire.

He told stories about “the” war every day of his life.    One story I remember was of his platoon finding a house, in  “U” shape connected to a barn on the river in Germany.  They asked the resident if they could stay in the barn.  The center of the “compound” had a huge pile of manure.  They went into the barn and started to check the place out.  While checking it out, Dad found a picture of the male resident of the house in a Nazi uniform.  They radioed for back-up, then took the man into custody. The man had defected from the Germans.  While in Germany I saw this house on the Mainz river that I imagined could have been the  same place, it wasn’t of course....but it piqued my imagination.

The U shaped house I saw in the Mainz River.

                                           The house.

The Barn.

 The windows on the house.

Flag Day
In 1973 my parents and I spent most of the summer touring Western Europe.  We had been traveling for several weeks and had just arrived in Rome.  As we drove to our hotel, the driver told us all to just sit tight, we would be held up in the bus for a few minutes.  There was a communist demonstration going on in the street that we had to wait to pass.  It wasn’t violent,  just lots of signs and shouting.  When it turned onto another street we went on our way.  As I turned to look out the front of the bus, the first thing I saw was the American flag flying in front of the American Embassy.  It struck me that I hadn’t seen the flag in several weeks, I got goosebumps and felt a lump in my throat.  At the same time I noticed the talking on the bus had stopped.  I looked around the bus....it seemed everyone had been stricken with the same emotion as me at seeing the flag.

July 4th
When we lived in Beaumont, the city park was on the Neches River.  The park was fenced to the river on each side.  There was one way in and out, under a little walking bridge.  The land, shaded with large oaks, sloped gently down to the river’s edge.   The city had a barge they docked in the river at the middle of the park.  On the barge was the Beaumont Symphony along with a choir made up of people from various churches and school choirs from all over town.  Around 4 PM the symphony would start to play.  Various people and ensembles sang and in the beauty of the moment, just about everyone joined in.  Virtually everyone in town came to the celebration.  We listened to music as the sun set behind us. As darkness descended the fireworks lit up the sky from across the river.  It was magic.  It was as close to being on the Charles River and listening to the Boston Pops was we could possibly get.

I think Dad had a great idea about his Patriot’s month.....so in his memory there will be bunting on my porch, and my flag will fly every day.....thanks Dad!