My father was the youngest of four brothers: my Uncle Sidney was the oldest. My dad and Uncle Sidney were the only ones who went to college, and my dad had to take off a “work” year, so he could afford to give money to his family, and save money for college. During his four undergraduate years, he worked a midnight to eight o’clock shift at a paper company, so he could pay for his tuition, books, and expenses, and continue supporting his parents and two of his brothers, who at some point came home, and couldn’t get jobs.
I’m not sure of the dates when my father and his brothers enlisted or served in the military. I know that one of my uncles was in a Korean prison camp (during that war). But, my dad wasn’t called up until after his college graduation. And, what he wanted to do was become a member of an elite flying squad, and he was chosen to do that that.
On his way to the base, his train passed through Riverside, CA, and he got off for a few hours, married my mother, participated in the festivities, and got back on the train. I am thinking that marrying then (I never thought to ask), may have been my mother’s decision, because knowing my father, he wouldn’t have thought it was responsible to possibly leave her as a widow. But, maybe not. They were madly in love then, and throughout their entire lives.
Unfortunately, I can’t remember all the details, but I do know that my father excelled at all the technical stuff, but washed out of training because of air sickness. His family was poor, and he never had been on an airplane before. At the time, he evidently was devastated...but decades ago, awhile before he died, he showed me a photography of himself and his platoon, and quietly said he was the only one who survived. The rest were all killed.
Oddly enough, perhaps because of his college education and his mechanical aptitude, he stayed in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, during his service, to teach other soldiers about how to use radios, and other technical devises. My mother, who grew up with a chauffeur and three in help, joined him, lived in a bedroom in a woman’s house, and worked as a secretary at the base (she had graduated as an English major from college).
My father, with my mother at his side, stayed in the military for an additional 18 months after his enlistment was over. They moved to a base in Texas because the military chose him to help GIs who returned home, adjust to their lives as civilians. I still have the letter from dad’s superior officer, who wrote about what an excellent job he had done, and what an outstanding person he was.
On this Memorial Day, I feel so much pride that my dad (and my mom who stood by him), his brothers, and my mother’s sister’s husband (my uncle Sandy), did their duty for our country.
When I think about the former Coward-in-Chief, whose father bought him five draft deferments, and all the Republican hawks who sought deferments, and then cavalierly sent other men and women and their sons and daughters to die in other wars, it sickens me.
Today, as I memorialize my father, his brothers, and my uncle, I feel a sense of the pride and honor they felt when they volunteered to save our democracy back then. And, I hope that everyone who supports democracy (despite some of our current alliances (I am Jewish and still am repelled and horrified by what is happening in Israel), and other morally reprehensible decisions throughout the decades, will vote for Democrats in November. And, I hope we all will write to our elected representatives in support of veterans, and military families, whose needs are not being met.