Okay, Dad, you must help me here. Why did you enlist in the Navy?
You were raised on a farm smack dab in the middle of Central Texas close to the San Marcos River. Black land soil dedicated to raising cotton. That’s all you know – cotton and the farming cycle.
And of all the branches it was the Navy? On a troop carrier in the Pacific Theater of WWII.
Here’s what I do know:
- WW II was raging in Europe and Asia.
- You are patriotic, a citizen of the USA.
- Other men in the community have already been either drafted or volunteered.
- Your two brothers-in-law serve in the Army Air Corps.
What does it feel like seeing so many men leaving their homes, their families to fight in far-off lands? And you are safe in Texas?
AT 35 you were exempt from service. You have two young children and that would have made you exempt. Yet you volunteered anyway.
So you marched into the Army recruiter, volunteering. But as soon as the examining physician sees your horrible abdominal scar that the ruptured appendix you suffered as a child, they turn you down.
“No way you will be able to march miles and days in battle.”
I know you were crushed, but determination is your middle name. Nothing or no one could stop you from serving.
Quickly you go directly to the Navy recruiter. And guess what? They take you! Now you have good news to tell. Your determination and courage stood you well that day.
You never doubted going into the Navy, if that was the best way you could serve your country. You would sail the ocean blue and never look back.
Strange thing – you were never seasick in your life. You rode the waves during storms and attacks like a seasoned sailor.
What you experienced during WWII in the Pacific Theater; I’ll never know everything. You never really talked about it. In face you rarely shared your experiences with Mother.
Later in life you shared a few things: you saw the raising of the flag on Iwo Jima from aboard ship, experienced a kamikaze nearly hitting your ship, and saw Japan from the ship after the war. But all the other experiences I can only imagine, seeing the troops you carried, perhaps making friends along the way. But your ship also carried the wounded back to the hospital. Horribly disfigured, in deep pain, and perhaps even dying before reaching the hospital – you witnessed it all.
Your determination and courage stayed with you even during the worst of it. Even as you encountered disease later in your life, you never flinched. I’m thankful you gave me your determination and courage. And your gifts keep on giving to my children and grandchildren. Thanks to you.
But your greatest gift was teaching me to love baseball. I can hear you now: “Go Stan the Man! Go St. Louis Cardinals!”