Daddy & D-Day

My Dad has been deceased for almost seven years. He was close to 87 years old when he passed into eternal life. As I remember my Dad in the days leading to Father's Day, I also am caused to reflect on perhaps the most defining moment in my Dad's life. The D-Day Invasion of Normandy, France. It has been 65 years since that historic day. In fact, the day that my Dad participated in the invasion was five years and one day before I was born.

My Dad was a member of the 3rd Armored Division, called the "Spearhead," because it was this company of men who spearheaded the Allied forces across Europe into Germany. Particularly, his battalion was the Maintenance Battalion, and it was their job to keep the armor (tanks, trucks, jeeps, motorcycles) rolling the cause of freedom throughout the countries occupied by the Nazis. My Dad was a welder by trade, trained at Crane Company, so this was an easy fit for him. My Dad's parents were from Poland and he, himself, was a first generation American, who wholeheartedly embraced the American principles of "life and liberty." He always said that the stories he read in the newspapers about what Hitler was doing in Europe, taking over country and country, made him want to fight. He enlisted on June 12, 1941, which was six months before Pearl Harbor.

I loved to listen to his stories, whether it was about the time his unit was on the ship heading for the invasion dressed in desert fatigues when suddenly in the middle of the night they were given new camouflage fatigues. This was an way to fool Hitler into believing that the invasion would come through Africa, rather than Europe. Another story, a funny one, was about the time he was testing a motorcycle after repairs. He was speeding (Dad always had a heavy foot), crashed and ended up in a hospital in Belgium. He said he was waiting to see those cute army nurses, when he found himself surrounded by monks who had turned their monastery into a hospital. Oh well, he must have received a lot of prayers because he made it home safely and in one piece.

When the movie, "Saving Private Ryan," came out I asked him if he wanted to see it and he politely declined, saying, "I saw it once already and that was enough." I always remember his description of the landing at Omaha Beach as exactly the way Spielberg portrayed it in the movie. Speaking of movies, the last scene in the movie, "Life is Beautiful," shows an American G.I. rolling through with his tank and giving a little boy who had survived in a concentration camp a ride on the top of the soldier's tank. My Dad told of a similar experience, pushing through France and Belgium to liberate a concentration camp in Germany, only to find that the Nazis killed almost everyone before the Americans could get there. He always talked about how sorry he was that they couldn't get there in time. However, I really think that the evil and lunacy that one sees in war happened when he described a situation at the end of the war, that according to him, was caused by the politicians and not the soldiers. His unit was at the Elbe River in Germany. German soldiers were surrendering with their hands up in the air. The Russian Army (our ally) was on the other side and they were just shooting down the Germans and the American were told just do nothing. My Dad was really bothered by this because as a soldier he was an adherent of the policy that you should not shoot someone who is surrendering. Perhaps, this led to his cynicism toward politics later in his life.

Now reflecting on these stories and my Dad's service to his country that gave him 1 service stripe, 3 service bars, the American Defense Service Ribbon, the American Campaign Medal, the European African Middle Eastern Theater Ribbon with 3 Bronze Battle Stars and the Good Conduct Medal, I can count myself as one of the children of the men who fought to destroy evil and restore freedom with their own lives. I can just hope and pray that when it is my turn to do the same and "spearhead" the cause of liberty and freedom in God's name, I will do the same.

One more thing, my Dad had a great devotion to St. Joseph (his namesake) and St. Therese of Lisieux (often called the Little Flower of Jesus) and always credited his life to their intercession.

HERE IS A GREAT YOUTUBE VIDEO OF THE 3RD ARMORED DIVISION:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iUWzvu1Z4Pc