scream-of-consciousness;
"If you're trying to change minds and influence people it's probably not a good idea to say that virtually all elected Democrats are liars, but what the hell."
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Monday, June 18, 2012
War Widow
World War II Widow
“
Hey
Boss:
Trust
me on this one! This deserves a separate post.
WARNNG!
Very
high pollen count and a 2 boxes of tissue video.
Glad she finally found him. Sometimes it takes a little more than "official" inquiries to solve the mystery. My mother and father told me for years that the best man at their wedding, my Dad's best friend and my Godfather, a B-24 pilot, was MIA over water in the ETO. Mom never knew differently, but my Dad lived long enough to hear the truth. I found the after action report of Don's last mission in Air Force Archives at Wright Patterson a few years before Dad died, and was able to show Dad that Don, flying the lead bomber, was shot down by accurate flak on the rally over Bologna, Italy on his 55th mission. He hung onto the plane long enough for some of his crew to bail out while a fire raged in the bomb bay, then the plane exploded in two. He is buried in the US National Cemetery at Florence Italy. I've even read of family, usually sons, going back to Europe and inquiring of elderly villagers about WW2 crashes, and succeeded in closing the book on a long standing mysteries. That sweet lady is lucky to have found someone who cared enough to help her. God bless her and her husband. Lt. Col. Gen. Tailgunner dick
My Grandmother received a Western Union telegram informing her that my Grandfather had been killed in St. Lo after they marched there from Normandy. She refused to believe it and just waited patiently. He had been in fact grievously wounded and was very much alive in an Army hospital in France. He sent her a letter which she received 3 months after the telegram. She wasn't the least bit surprised. In the chaos that was that war information was slow to move and often more conjecture than fact. It is a testament to that generation that they endured not only the enormous losses of life, but also the lack of or erroneous information associated with it. SharkBait
Sometime around March 1941, my mother dropped the dime (actually it was a nickel in those days) on my biological father for grand theft. So he sent most of the war in Michigan City doing 5 to 10.
Being not quite a year old when he began his service, I have no clear memories of the guy, but I'm sure that he'd have made a great soldier, given the opportunity to serve in that capacity rather than making license plates.
I sued him for delinquent back support when I turned 21. Pissed off his third wife, an ex stripper.
I did 24 in the USN, 9 as a whitehat and the rest with a gold chinstrap. Enjoyment to bad times ratio around 3:1.
Loved the sunsets, sunrises, storms at sea, liberty ports, satisfaction of finishing a job properly . . . hated the administrivia and makework.
Don't necessarily wanna go back, tho -- prefer to just pull up the memories, which get better 'n' better alla time, and relive 'em.
Given a do-over, I'd change very little in my 72 years: less fats, less sugar, and no smoking. Otherwise, it was a good run, all considered, with a good woman and a lotta good times.
Glad she finally found him. Sometimes it takes a little more than "official" inquiries to solve the mystery. My mother and father told me for years that the best man at their wedding, my Dad's best friend and my Godfather, a B-24 pilot, was MIA over water in the ETO. Mom never knew differently, but my Dad lived long enough to hear the truth. I found the after action report of Don's last mission in Air Force Archives at Wright Patterson a few years before Dad died, and was able to show Dad that Don, flying the lead bomber, was shot down by accurate flak on the rally over Bologna, Italy on his 55th mission. He hung onto the plane long enough for some of his crew to bail out while a fire raged in the bomb bay, then the plane exploded in two. He is buried in the US National Cemetery at Florence Italy.
ReplyDeleteI've even read of family, usually sons, going back to Europe and inquiring of elderly villagers about WW2 crashes, and succeeded in closing the book on a long standing mysteries. That sweet lady is lucky to have found someone who cared enough to help her. God bless her and her husband.
Lt. Col. Gen. Tailgunner dick
My Grandmother received a Western Union telegram informing her that my Grandfather had been killed in St. Lo after they marched there from Normandy. She refused to believe it and just waited patiently. He had been in fact grievously wounded and was very much alive in an Army hospital in France. He sent her a letter which she received 3 months after the telegram. She wasn't the least bit surprised. In the chaos that was that war information was slow to move and often more conjecture than fact. It is a testament to that generation that they endured not only the enormous losses of life, but also the lack of or erroneous information associated with it.
ReplyDeleteSharkBait
Sometime around March 1941, my mother dropped the dime (actually it was a nickel in those days) on my biological father for grand theft. So he sent most of the war in Michigan City doing 5 to 10.
ReplyDeleteBeing not quite a year old when he began his service, I have no clear memories of the guy, but I'm sure that he'd have made a great soldier, given the opportunity to serve in that capacity rather than making license plates.
I sued him for delinquent back support when I turned 21. Pissed off his third wife, an ex stripper.
Boco, you're a character. This should be your theme song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cDGkG6fYOQ8
ReplyDeleteCasca
Boco says:
ReplyDeleteShow me the money!
http://tosh.comedycentral.com/blog/files/2012/03/stripper-ones.jpg
Geo
I did 24 in the USN, 9 as a whitehat and the rest with a gold chinstrap. Enjoyment to bad times ratio around 3:1.
ReplyDeleteLoved the sunsets, sunrises, storms at sea, liberty ports, satisfaction of finishing a job properly . . . hated the administrivia and makework.
Don't necessarily wanna go back, tho -- prefer to just pull up the memories, which get better 'n' better alla time, and relive 'em.
Given a do-over, I'd change very little in my 72 years: less fats, less sugar, and no smoking. Otherwise, it was a good run, all considered, with a good woman and a lotta good times.