May 5, 1945 - we shall remember.

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
81

For reminding us all about this very important subject.

My mom was born in '41, in Hoogeveen (or Heereveen, whatever), and so was shaped much more by the after affects of the war. She was terrified by the fireworks celebrating liberation. I think my opa played a minor role in the local resistance, but I’m not sure. Living that far north, they were some of the last people in Europe to be liberated- it was out of the way of Berlin. I don’t think they minded too much. I have had the fortune of visiting my family there, and seeing, among other things, war cemeteries, relocation camps, and other reminders of that horrible period. I, for one, will never forget. And neither will any (future) children of mine.

Sorry for rambling, but I’m having trouble writing logically after thinking and remembering.

Also, if you have the means, visit Normandy. I was but a boy of 12 when I saw it, and it still haunts me.

82

This is one of the most touching topics I have ever read. I personally feel that it is very sad when people who fought in WWII die and never tell their stories. Granted sometimes these stories are just too painful to tell, but I still think they should pass own what they can. I believe half the problem with people my age (16) is that they never hear stories like the ones posted hear. In history we get the somewhat boring facts of when this happened and when that happened. We never get to hear any detail of the sacrifice that was made other than the body-counts. I personally have great respect for all veterans because I have had a chance to spend time with them through Boy Scouts, but I know many others have not.

One of my grandfathers was own his way to the Pacific theater when they announced the surrender of Japan. He never saw any action that I know of other than playing table tennis endlessly in India. (He is still extremely good)

My other grandfather I am not so sure about. He was with some sort of engineering group that followed closely behind the front lines to build the shelters and other buildings. He never spoke of seeing any action until just recently when he mentioned being shot at by snipers. That however, is all he said and I would like to know more. I personally don’t get to see this grandfather very much and do not know how to ask him without sounding like I’m just some teenager that wants to hear gruesome stories. Any suggestion on how to talk to him without sounding like that’s all I care about? Any help would be greatly appreciated.

83

COLDFIRE

I hate to say this because I consider you a pain in the rear, but, excellent post.

84

I dont visit this message board often enough, and so am I ever glad that this was the Threadspotting thread when i checked the SD site today. What a beautiful tribute to such an important subject. Reading Coldfire’s post, and all the ones that have come since, have really made me realize how often we forget the important things in the day-to-day happenings, but thank God theres someone out there to put things into perspective once in a while. I never thought something on the SDMB would touch me so much. I do kind of wish I had something to add to all the wonderful things that have been said so far.

My grandfather was in the army during the war, but he was a reporter, to my knowledge anyways. He’s been dead for a few years and I never got to know him due to the results of the two storkes he’d had. Reading everything here tonight makes me wish I could have known him, at least to hear what he had to say about the war.

I can only think of one more thing that this thread makes me want to share:

My mother is a teacher and we moved to Germany for three years so that she could teach on a military base. In that time I saw several memorials, and several battle locations, and the theme of the war was one that arose often. Despite all of that, I think the event that touched me the most occured about a week before we moved…I was 9. We were in Montreal getting ice-cream, and a man heard us talking about going to Germany. He told us it was a beautiful place, that it had had a horrible modern history, but that it’s people were good people. We asked him if he was German. He said yes. He also said he was Jewish. He then showed us the tattooed numbers on his forearm.

A decade later this thread has reminded me of this man, and of the amazing inner strength he must have had. As cliché as it sounds, it’s amazing what the human spirit is capable of.

85

Coincidentally, I happened to be over at another site looking into something altogether unrelated (which film to go see tonight), when I stumbled across this: http://www.guardianunlimited.co.uk/Columnists/Column/0,5673,220543,00.html

, essentially echoing the sentiments of what many of you have said here.

Sychronicity can be scary.

86

Coldfire: Give yourself a raise and take the rest of the day off. You are one beautiful human being.

(There is a celebration of remembrance in Belgium, much like the one Coldfire describes. I knew guys who went there and report being treated like royalty…and this was thirty years after WWII. I imagine it is still going on.)

My grandfather fought for the Italians against the Turks, and had a metal plate in his head as a result. One of my uncles fought at the Bridge of Ramagen battle, another was a scout for an infantry unit in the Philippines. Neither would talk about their experiences, but I found out recently that the latter still feels terribly guilty because he contracted malaria and as he was being evacuated to the hospital, his entire unit was wiped out.

The Army would not take my father for some reason, so he joined the Merchant Marines and served on a ship taking supplies to troops in the Pacific. He was on one of the first American ships to sail into Yokahama harbor after the surrender.

At the same time, some of my other relatives were forced from their homes in Monterey, California because they were Italian.

I believe everyone should serve their country so, in 1969, I volunteered for the Army. I had intentions of going to Nam, but the Army seldom gives you what you want, and they sent me to Germany. The Germans could not have been more hospitable. I positively love the country and its citizens.

Assuming one totalitarian state is much like another, I also got a taste of what it might have been like had the Allies not won the war.

The Army had a little known deal where anyone asking could not be refused a five day tour of Berlin. I jumped at the chance. For the first four days the bus-load of us were shown the city and told of the historical sites relating to the war. Much of the chatter from the guide was American propaganda, so we tuned it out. The city spoke for itself.

We saw the various sights, and constantly ran into…The Wall.
http://www.dailysoft.com/berlinwall/graphics/1961/19631202potsdamer.jpg

http://www.users.dircon.co.uk/~chrisx/Sheet1.htm

This is Templehof Airport, where, in the very early days, the U.S. flew food and medicine over…The Wall.
http://www.berlinonline.de/reisen/panorama/.html/tempelhof_java.html

“Here is the bombed out church which is now a memorial to the war…and over there is The Wall.
http://www.berlinonline.de/reisen/panorama/.html/gedaechtniskirche_java.html

This is the Brandenburg Gate which once lead to Berlin’s famed art and music, which is now…part of The Wall. http://www.appropriatesoftware.com/BerlinWall/welcome.html

What I saw and learned was mind-bending and haunts me still, but not as much as the fifth day when we were taken through Checkpoint Charlie and into East Berlin.
http://www.dailysoft.de/berlinwall/graphics/1974/19740700-36-001.jpg

Until about noon, we toured the city in a bus. After that we were cut loose and told we could go anywhere but we had to be back on the bus by 5:00 PM.

Driving through Checkpoint Charlie was like driving off the set of a color movie and into film noir. The sky was gray. The buildings were gray. The clothes were gray. The people were gray. They shuffled along, slumped over, looking very tired. Mostly people ignored us, but some walked by and without turning their heads, winked or raised an eyebrow to say hello–knowing full well that if they got caught they would be arrested and possibly never seen again.

The central shopping area, the jewel of the Communist Block, had buildings which were painted and in good order; but the sides and backs of some of the buildings were still marked with bullet holes from the war. One shop we stopped in had a display for soap: a plank on sawhorses, a tattered wicker basket with one type of bar soap, shaped like a small pink-ish brick, unwrapped and chipped. Period.

The four of us who palled around on this tour, (one tall, one short [me], one fat, one average) were walking along the street, talking about what it must be like to be a soldier in the East German or Soviet Armies, when (I swear to God), we turned a corner and almost bumped into four uniformed Soviet soldiers: one tall, one short, one fat, one average.

They were walking and talking much like we were except they were laughing (before they saw us) and we were less jovial the entire day. They were in their early twenties, G.I. hair cuts and meticulous uniforms–just like us. The did not look like monsters. They did not look even particularly threatening. We walked past each other, soaking in the site of each other, unable to stop. I could not help but feel that each of us was thinking that had we been out of uniform and in some other place, we would have loved to sit and talk over a few beers.

Twenty years to the month, The Wall fell, I wept for days.

I do not regret my tour in the service–quite the contrary. I still believe that the only safe country is a strong one; but each of us have a duty to all those who died in all the wars, to work diligently to prevent armed conflict, to demand our politicians perform with honor and to strive for the ideals we believe in: justice, liberty and equality.
Myself

More about The Wall:
http://www.dailysoft.de/berlinwall/

http://www.german-way.com/german/eastsidegal.html

87

Third or fourth time I’ve read this thread and it STILL brings tears to my eyes and makes my nose run.

I’m posting this to bring it back to the top in time for our American Memorial Day.

Coldfire, you started one of the most beautiful, hear-wrenching threads I have ever read on any message board.

Because they were farmers both of my grandfathers were exempted, but one of my gramma’s brothers was a battlefield medic during WWII and another I’ve never met due to Korea and Hamburger Hill.

And maybe it’s because I was brainwashed in boot camp…

But when I hear that the average life-span of a tail-gunner on a WWII bomber was 17 days and men were STILL clamoring for a spot on that plane…

It makes me shudder and pray and desperately hope that if the world ever again needs someone to save it that I will have the intestinal fortitude to again offer my services, however humble they may be.

I’m typing this while tears are running down, Coldfire.

Thank you.

88

A lurker has been pulled out of the woodwork tonite.
I was thinking about making my first post on the “Funniest Moments During Sex” thread, but I thought this was more appropriate.

Without drawing an extensive family tree, my father served in WWII. Came over on a boat, went thru Ellis Island, and believed it was his duty to serve in the Forces during The Great War.

Much to his disappointment, he spent his entire tour at the Naval base in Wildwood, N.J. aboard the “USS Neversail”.

The fact he never went overseas ate him up forever after.

However, he was proud of his service. And I share his pride… especially with no military service myself.

After reading this thread a couple times, I realize a lot more people made more personal sacrifices than my father did. And I also learned the significance of May 5, 1945. So, as the progeny of someone who was active but saw no combat, the significance of this weekend has been expanded to me 1000 fold.

Thank you, Coldfire, for reminding us.

Thank you, sandyr, for bringing it up at the right time.

89

I was looking for this, in honor of our Memorial Day. I want to say thanks again, and I also want to remember those who serve now, never knowing if they will be called upon to make those same choices. I salute all our servicemen, for doing something I too often forget and should always remember. They (and their family and loved ones) make my life possible, and I am grateful.

90

Coldfire… Sassy sent me here to read this…

Your words of gratitude were so touching.

I just thought I should point out…that they came because of people exactly like you… because it was the right thing to do.

Thank you for sharing your honest and heartfelt words, they were beautifully expressed… and thank you Sassy for steering me in this direction… it was indeed worthy.

91

Thanks for all you kind words, guys. I just noticed this thread has been viewed more than 6,500 times! Amazing. Not to blow my own horn, but I am proud of that. Because I’ve seen how it affects people, and because of all the touching stories it triggered. Thanks guys, for sharing your and your family’s stories. It proves that this is still a subject that is very much alive, even today. Even for people like me - I’m 27 years old. But it affects me, because it affected my ancestors.

I, too, think this is one of the best threads I’ve ever read on these boards. Not so much for my OP (which, admittedly, was pretty damn good ;)), but more for all the very, very moving responses.

Thanks guys. You and you families should be proud of yourselves!

92

My father was in the US Air Force (Army Air Corps, then) and was shot down over Munich. They limped to Switzerland, where they crash-landed. He was interred by the Swiss until he escaped. Interrees were not considered POWs because Switzerland was neutral, but it had a cozy relationship with Nazi Germany and escaping interrees would be shot if caught. Until his death he worked for the reclassification of interrees by the Veterans Association. It finally came a year or two after he died.

Both my father and one of my uncles suffered from delayed-stress syndrome, but it was ignored both by them (ya gotta tough these things out) and the VA, until a Vietnam-era psychologist diagnosed him. He received disability until he died.

Up until his diagnosis my father, like so many veterans, dealt with the memories and survivor’s guilt by self medication (liquor and valium), pushing people away, and withdrawal. In some ways I feel that I lost my father in WW2, ten years before I was born.

Just before I found this thread I posted the full lyrics of “And the Band Played ‘Waltzing Matilda’” on the “Sad Songs” thread. War is insane but the alternative is sometime even more insane. Wounds can be mental or physical. But my father would have replied to your “thank you” with a shy “Aw, it was nothing.” And given a choice to do it all over again he would have. There were giants in the earth in those days.

93

because today we are remembering freedom.

94

I just got through the whole thing for the umpteenth time, this time without shedding a tear.

Then I got to Sassy’s post. Who am I kidding? I guess I am proud to be an American, and grateful there are still things to be proud of. Thanks, Coldfire.

Now where’s the kleenex?

~~Baloo

95

Aye, Milo.

My grandfather passed away last Saturday. In the 80’s, he was awarded with the Dutch “National Commemorance Cross of the Resistance”. You see, he was a resistance man. He got the cross for blowing up a German Pfantzerwagen with 16 people inside, during the battle for Arnhem (“A Bridge Too Far” might ring a bell: read the book, seen the movie? THAT very battle).

He was my personal hero.

You want to know the really cool part? Here it goes. Don’t blame me if your eyes start watering again. This is a sure hit, in that sense.

My grandfather always hated Germans with a passion. Ever since WWII, there was no reasoning with him when it came to Germans. They were vuile Moffen (“Dirty Krauts”. No, worse than that, more offensive. There’s no translation, really). Of course, noone took offense to that. After all, he’d seen too much tragedy, too much horror. Of course he hated all Germans! Sure, we didn’t agree, but we did understand why he felt that way. So we respected his opinion, maybe much as you Americans might respect a veteran family member hating the Japanese for bombing Pearl Harbour.
Here’s the cool part. In 1995, a celebration was held at the very grounds of the battle over “A Bridge Too Far”, right outside Arnhem. All of them were there. Dutch Military, Dutch Resistance, US Military, Canadian Military, British Military… and German Military men.
My grandfather finally, reluctantly, met up with some Germans that were told to “have been looking for him” at that meeting. It turned out that these guys were the former fellow soldiers of the guys he had blown up in that Pfantzerwagen. They finally met the man that had blown their mates to pieces!

They must have drank and talked all evening. No, they didn’t blame him for killing their friends. It was a war - they would have done the same thing, to protect their country. My grandfather finally got to see the faces behind the anonymous enemy. He finally learned, first hand, that these German soldiers he blew up were just ordinary guys like him. They just happened to have a different passport.

I am very grateful for the fact that my grandfather was able to learn that within his life. I am very grateful that he did NOT die a man full of hate towards Germans. Because he didn’t. He was able to forgive them all.

That, knowing his background, is true greatness, in my eyes.

I am also very grateful for the fact that he died at 87, without too much pain, in his sleep. After a long, varied, and productive life.

This one’s for you, grandpa. You are my hero.

96

Well said Coldie. This has to be one of the best threads I’ve read.

My grandfather was an ANZAC in WWII and although he never enjoyed speaking of it the few times his young grandson badgered stories out of him he got a bit emotional (very unlike him). Later I realised how much the war had affected this gentle man whose ideals lead him to fight for beliefs but failed to protect him from the horrors he faced. If anything those ideals only lent the horror more bite. He’s passed away now but if I could speak to him I’d pass on your words and I know he’d merely offer a half smile and remain silent, but he’d appreciate your sentiment tremendously.

Thanks mate.

Damn now you’ve made me cry.

97

My dad tried to join the army right after Pearl Harbor. (He had an uncle, Captain Chaplain Kirkpatrick, who died aboard the USS Arizona. Family lore says that my great uncle went below decks three times to help survivors out of the burning hulk. He only came up twice.) The army found out how old my dad was when he tried to join and sent him home. Later, he did join the army and was part of the occupation forces in Japan. Later, as a Naval officer, he returned to Japan with the 7th Fleet during the Vietnam era.

Dad never harbored any hatred toward the Japanese, and in fact went out of his way to be nice to them. We lived in Japan when I was very little. He was very proud that I learned the language. Sadly, I’ve lost it due to disuse.

98

That is fantastic, Johnny.
Just to be on the safe side, I did not mean to imply that every American veteran automatically would hate everything Japanese, or anybody directly involved in Pearl Harbor (sorry for missspelling it the last time!) would. I was merely trying to say that it’s an understandable reaction, for people who have endured a lot of grief and horror first hand.

I’m sure Johnny realised this, just thought I’d point it out.

99

I can relate Coldy. My dad was in Italy during WWII, prior to going to Holland. He hated Italians and everything about them for many many long years. We weren’t even allowed Italian wine in our house. I do believe he made his peace, but it was one part of the war that ate him up.

He came back from the war with his legs blown apart and endured so much pain, many years of surgeries up to the year before he passed away but he was very proud of his small part in helping to ensure people had their freedom.

Your grandpa sounds like an awesome man!

100

Sue, your father sounds like he was a great man as well.

Sue explained to me, by means of ICQ, that her father helped liberate the town of Arnhem, the very same I talked about in my post about my grandfather. The town where my family is from.

Sue, your father may very well have saved my father from his death. See, my dad spent the winter of '44-'45 (“The Hunger Winter”, as it is known here) in a chicken shack at a farm outside of Arnhem. The city was bombed, and all houses were robbed empty by the Germans. People had to leave their homes in the city under siege behind and try to survive in the countryside. My father was two years old at the time, but he has some memories of it.

My grandparents survived the freezing winter with (then) three kids, in a shack, feeding on whatever could be found in the woods or on the barren fields. At night, my grandfather would go out into the woods to look for parachutes - allied or German, they would leave their 'chutes behind. My grandmother made clothes out of those, for the children. It was hard keeping them warm and fed.

Sue, my father and his two brothers might not have made it another winter. A LOT of people died in 44/45. Starvation, freezing to death… diseases.
Your father and all the veterans that were with him are the reason that my father survived the war.

And thus, the very reason that I am here.

Never, ever forget that.

People, this was only sixty years ago. Can any of us imagine such horror?