A Few Veteran's Day Thoughts

I must confess that this year I had planned not to write anything for Veteran's Day. Seemed to me anything I said might just be a repeat of what I had said in earlier posts. However, today my thoughts turn to my hero . . .  my Dad!  The more I learn about his war time experiences the more impressed I am.

My father was a member of the USAAF during World War Two from 1942 until 1945. As a member of the 35th squadron of the 315th Troop Carrier Group, 52 Troop Carrier Wing, Ninth Air Force he flew routine and combat missions into "Fortress Europe" from both England and North Africa. He took part in Operation Torch, Neptune and Market Garden where he dropped elements of the 82nd. Airborne. His last major Para drop was Market Garden where for five straight days he dropped elements of the 82nd. 504 PIR at Grave, Belgium, elements of a British PIR and finally Polish PIR. Two of those five days were landings in a Belgium field to offload ammunition and food and then fly wounded soldiers to England for treatment. For all these efforts he received the AAF Air Medal with Oak Leaf  Cluster.

Once the Para drops were pretty much over he flew ammunition and fuel to General George Patton's Third Army . . . often into loosely secured LZ's. When time permitted he would fly wounded soldiers back to England and later France. I was privileged to see his plane leaving a makeshift airfield in Southern Europe loaded with British soldiers who had just been liberated from a German prison camp.

While in England he was stationed at Spanhoe Air Field just north and west of London. It was while there that he met the English lady who would become his wife and my mother. 

My mom, who was a Londoner, had received word in 1942 (just before my dad arrived in England) that her fiancé, a fine English chap, had been killed in action at Dunkirk. Somehow during the following year (1943) they met and their wartime story began. I'll  not recount it here but it was quiet a story as the "flyboy" from Hickory Creek, Texas fell for the Lady from London. Suffice it to say he once told me, "it was the smartest decision he ever made when I asked for her hand in marriage." I agree, if for no other reason than it produced me.

Now having said all that I need to say his story is the same story a lot of other soldiers from his day could tell. They all did their jobs. That's probably what makes them such a great generation. They heeded the call of their country, gave their full devotion to the task as assigned, and when they got home they went to work and built a nation. It takes men like the one at he right to really appreciate the meaning of the poppy in the lapel. These are the men and women who have seen, smelled, felt and seen the results of war up close and personal . . .  men like my Dad!

However, let me add that for every one of the men like my father who carried the fight to the enemy there were hundreds of others who kept the supplies flowing, feed the troops etc. And then there are those who have "keep the peace."

I know in my family, and I've said this before: We have had folks who have fought in every major war this country has been involved in. Frances fought in Washington's Continental Army, Robert in the War of 1812,  my Dad and his cousin (Robert Key who was killed in Natal Brazil) both in the USAAF flying C-47's, Robert in Korea (KIA), Ron and Charles Leo (KIA) in Vietnam and others in Iraq and Afghanistan. Add to that the many peacetime soldiers. In my book Hero's all.

So today, I tip my hat to all living veterans and proudly wear my poppy in my lapel for those who died in battle or who have otherwise passed into eternity.

But for me, the veteran hero I wear a poppy for today is my Dad. Thank you for being the man you were. For answering the call to duty; for faithfully executing that duty; and, for living the values for which you fought.