A Special Veterans' Day

This Veterans’ Day was special. My dad, an old soldier of the Greatest Generation faded into history.


Born in a time foreign to me, he came of age in an era of upheaval and uncertainty. He was raised on stories of the First great-war, during a time when the country was growing by leaps and bounds and approaching a very dark period of soup lines and joblessness. This is a life I’ve never known and have only caught glimpses through the tales of others.

He was a tender fourteen when Black Tuesday ushered in a period so terrible, discouraging and tenacious that only the Second great-war would bring it to an end. Dad had dropped out of school by that time worked as he could to help the family.

Three years into the Great Depression, a desperate nation gave FDR a landslide victory. The Civilian Conservation Corps was instituted during the first “Hundred Days”. That same year, he started the Fireside Chats. Both had a profound effect on dad. He never tired of telling us of both. The Fireside Chats delivered encouragement. The CCC delivered hope by enlisting thousands of unemployed youth to combat the problem of soil erosion and declining timber. They were eventually credited with planting three billion trees. Dad signed onto the CCC effort and headed west. These were the years and events that brought him to manhood.

He was married and just above draft age when we knew that we would become entangled in the war. Driven by his commitments and beliefs, he enlisted in the Army. He became a combat medic and served with the 692nd Tank Destroyer Battalion in the Northeast Europe Campaign. I can’t imagine the terrors of combat—daily seeing and facing death. Dad didn’t talk of the war for a good twenty years. When he did start, he told us of acts of kindness of both civilians and combatants. Later, we started to hear some of the grimmer tales. How these events must have shaped these members of the Greatest Generation. These men and women changed our society after the war. They went to college in record numbers, spearheaded businesses and became an energetic and productive force in all facets of our society. These few years in combat affected them for life.

Dad’s path wasn’t through college or as a captain of business. Rather he trained to become a masseur and also became a rubber worker. He worked both of those jobs until he retired at 65. Retirement ended up just meaning that he no longer made tires. Massage was his devotion until his first stroke at 89.

His optimism and continual encouragement affected hundreds. During the funeral service many of these people, young and old, told of his bright and encouraging spirit. Gads (one of his favorite expressions), what an example for all of us to follow.

Bye dad.