My dad's buried
in the American
Cemetery and Memorial, Hamm, Luxembourg. Bulge. Mortar
round. Same cemetery where George S. Patton rests.
When my step-dad (Pop) was dying of cancer we talked about old
times. It was only then that he told me the story about my late mom's
rift with my paternal grandparents. I knew there was a
problem, but always thought it was because she married a Catholic, or
that he
adopted me
and sister, giving us his name. I had no reason at all to think that,
but it's where my imagination led me. I don't think I ever had
any meaningful conversation with mom about it. She didn't talk
about him.
Pop ,
who himself was shot during the Bulge, said that the War
Department later offered mom the opportunity to have dad's remains
returned for burial in the U.S. She declined. Because she
could not bear to rekindle her grief . My grandparents understandably
wanted him back home, and were more than a little miffed. Since I
found that out, I've wondered whether I should inquire about whether
that can still be done. Even now. If my grandparents were
still alive, I think I prolly would already have.
Ofttimes it's better to leave fighting men to rest with fallen buddies. But — dad was a replacement, and had only
just landed at Normandy and sent to the unit. I don't think he
was there two days. I've learned that replacements were
generally ignored by the old guys, because nobody wanted to befriend
someone who would probably be dead in a few days. So chances are
he didn't know a soul in the 137th Inf. But, this is where it
gets confusing.
I spent my summers with Gram and Gramp West on
their Indiana (Lewis) farm. One day gramps took me with him
to Indianapolis. He'd hired a truck to haul some livestock for
sale. The driver of the truck was introduced as knowing dad
during his short stint overseas. He was someone who was near
enough to him to have seen the mortar round hit. He picked
up what was left of dad's rifle and took it home, where he later gave
it to gramps. When we got home, gramps showed me the splintered
wood stock (it resembled an M-1 carbine) with some twisted metal.
Never saw it again. We didn't talk about it. Obviously
gramps set up that trip to Indianapolis so I could learn that. We
don't talk much in our family, it seems.
|
RIP, Private West. A grateful nation thanks you.
ReplyDeleteI often wonder what he'd think if he returned today. About a lot of things.
ReplyDeleteRodge
ReplyDeleteThe only time I heard either one of my parents speak of your dad, was when my dad (your uncle Bill) told my brother and me, one day, that your dad was a really, really good guy. It seemed like my dad was reminiscing, but I don't recall or didn't understand why. I must have been six or seven at the time.
Cuzzin Rick
Yeah, it was like everyone tippy-toed around mom on the subject. I laid-off because I was afraid it would hurt new dad's feelings. He was never sensitive about it, it turns out.
ReplyDeleteMay he rest in peace.
ReplyDeleteThe 35th Div(w/the 137th reg.) moved to Arlon, Belgium, 25–26 December, and took part in the fighting to relieve Bastogne, throwing off the attacks of four German divisions, taking Villers-laBonne-Eau, 10 January, after a 13-day fight and Lutrebois in a 5-day engagement.
ReplyDeletePossibly this battle?
RAK
He was killed Jan 9th, at which time the 137th was engaged here:
ReplyDeleteThe village of Villers-la-Bonne-Eau during the Battle of the Bulge
situation
6600 Villers-la-Bonne-Eau (Bastogne)
Contact
Description
Occupied since 19 December by German paratroopers, the village came under fire from American artillery. The Germans and the Americans both wanted to capture the village to take control of the important Arlon-Bastogne highway. For days they clashed in heavy fighting. Under pressure from the 35th US Infantry Division and the 4th US Armored Division of Patton’s 3rd Army, the Germans withdrew and the village was finally liberated on 10 January ’45. (text source by Guy Blockmans/OPT)
Wow, RAK, I just did a Google Earth on Villers-laBonne-Eau (Rollover Headstone). How eerie to know you're looking at the the spot your dad died. I've looked for 137th INF activity before, but there was nothing online.
ReplyDeleteAn appropriate personal touch for Memorial Day, Rodger. Thanks so much for sharing, and may God Bless all our troops past, present, future.
ReplyDeleteI was struck by how much your "Pops" resembled my father, who was from Indiana and turned wrenches on Navy aircraft on Henderson Field, amongst other lovely places. God Bless all who went to see the elephant, and their families.
ReplyDeleteRodger, that's an incredible story. This is the day that we celebrate the best of America.
ReplyDeleteCasca
My dad died in 1987. He was born in Belgium, emigrated to Canada when he was 7 years old, joined the RCAF in 1936 so he could fly, flew a Spitfire as a Squadron Leader (Major) during the Battle of Britain, went on to become a Group Captain (Colonel) by D-Day and an Air Commodore (Brigadier-Ganeral) by VE Day. After the war, Dad moved to Detroit, Michigan, started an industrial roofing business which employed over 400 people, raised a family, served on the local school board, retired, and died. Over 300 men who served with him attended dad's funeral in Florida. They came from all over the world. The "greatest generation" knew the meaning of love and honor. I will forever be grateful for those heroes arriving in our time of need. Sadly, in the intervening years, I have attended too many of their funerals.
ReplyDeleteYou folks are lucky you at least heard something. My Dad was in Army and served mainly in the Philipines.
ReplyDeleteThe only thing we ever found out about his service time was from his sister and Aunt Mary told us he had terrible nightmares when he came home and he would awaken in terror screaming.
I asked Dad point blank at least a dozen times about what happened and he always sidestepped or hemmed and hawed - would never say a thing.
I hope the knowledge you have of your relatives service can give you some comfort and peace.
Bolivar
Bolivar, if He served in the Phillipines then he went through some real hell. I am thankful for those men. We all owe a debt of gratitude to them that we can never repay, Pvt West and to Pops Bolivar alike.
ReplyDeletethoR~
Jesus.
ReplyDeleteWhat a story. And kudos for your step father and your grandfather.
Thank you for sharing that Rodger.
One of my great-uncles(literally, I think) was an infantryman, served from somewhere in France till the end. NEVER talked about it; it wasn't until his funeral that the local paper dug up the two Bronze Stars and other stuff.
ReplyDeleteOther great-uncle was a diver in the Navy, wound up on a disability pension from injuries suffered in the Pacific. I only heard him speak of it once, talking about the bodies floating in the water and on the beaches at Tarawa.
God only knows what all those two saw and did.