D-Day-75 years later
Today is the 75th anniversary of D-Day. This is Bedford, Virginia, home of the national D-Day Memorial. This town was selected for the honor of hosting the memorial due to the ultimate sacrifice of 20 of it's boys in this battle. Nineteen were in the same unit and all died
that day, making Bedford, Virginia the town which lost the most of it's military young men that day. They are called "The Bedford Boys". The lamp posts down town are decorated with flags, each bearing a name of a lost young man. I have no idea at this point how many people came here from across the country today. It has been a lovely day, if a bit hot, with sun and clouds and a cool breeze. The Vice President arrived mid-morning and gave a short, very well done, speech. (I guess you all know that PresidentTrump is in France where all this actually occurred.).
Joseph's Dream, where I reside, is on a hillside overlooking the Memorial site. A group of us gathered on the slope behind one of the buildings shortly before 10 am to watch the planes fly over. We were unable to see the ground ceremonies. There are several trees on that spot which provided nice shade without obscuring the view.
One lady kept her TV on and kept us informed as to what was happening on the ground. We had binoculars, but did not really need them as the planes flew directly over our heads, very low, on their circuit of the memorial field. How fortunate were those of us sitting there to have among us one man who knew each plane, it's specs and it's use during the war.
When the first little plane came into view, it's single engine purring as it glided over us, I got chills--really, prickles up my arms, and the
strangest sense of nostalgia as it brought with it all my memories of that time. I was not quite 10 years old on D-Day. I remember World War II, not from a text book--first hand. My Dad tried so hard to enlist. Every branch of the service turned him down due to his poor vision.
He finally joined the state guard, where he was the bugler when at camp, and also the best shot in his rifle company. (poor vision and all!) Dad had a best friend whom my sister and I called Uncle Henry.
My Mother & Dad were both only children so we had no real uncles.
Uncle Henry was a bombardier in the Army Air force, so we girls had a "relative" to pray for. I believe, if memory serves me, that Henry served in Africa. He came home in one piece.
It was such a different world then. This was such a different country.
In school we said the pledge of allegiance , proudly saluted the flag.
It was a special honor to be the student chosen to take the flag from the holder and bring it to the center front of the class during the pledge. "Rally round the flag, boys (and girls)". When the siren screamed out a warning of approaching unidentified planes, we lined up and made our way to the underpass over which the train tracks ran.
It was very close to the school. There we stood with our backs to the icy wall, listening for the bombs which surely might come this time.
They never did. Thanks to those brave young men, filled with courage and love of country, who defended our right to salute the flag and to pray for them.
Even as an 8 and then 9 year old, I wanted to do my part. My Mother rolled bandages in the school auditorium with other mothers and knit sox for the service men. Mother came up with the idea that I sell stamps which were pasted into paper folders. When filled it was exchanged for a War Bond. I walked miles around the country roads,
stopping at every door, encouraging ladies to buy a stamp or two. I was never turned away. (Except by a pair of geese one day. That is another story!)
A different world. We really were UNITED states of America.
You would never dream of allowing a child that young to walk alone
very far out of sight today. I am glad that I lived during that time. I am equally glad that I had a mother who let me be part of it and teachers - Miss Moretti, Mrs. Thompson, who made today's history a
real part of our young lives.
As those planes passed overhead, the trainers, the fighters, the troop carriers, the bi-planes (there were 2 squadrons of four each), the heavy bombers, the daring radio planes with one pilot who soared over the battle areas reporting back to headquarters from the scene of the fight, I felt once again the shiver of fear, the tingle of amazement,
the oneness that was once the USA under good old Uncle Sam.
It has never been the same again. We will never experience war in that way again either, and the later wars only tore us apart rather than aroused the sense of togetherness that was World War II.
God Bless America and those boys, young women and the families of another time.
Please God---bless America once again.
that day, making Bedford, Virginia the town which lost the most of it's military young men that day. They are called "The Bedford Boys". The lamp posts down town are decorated with flags, each bearing a name of a lost young man. I have no idea at this point how many people came here from across the country today. It has been a lovely day, if a bit hot, with sun and clouds and a cool breeze. The Vice President arrived mid-morning and gave a short, very well done, speech. (I guess you all know that PresidentTrump is in France where all this actually occurred.).
Joseph's Dream, where I reside, is on a hillside overlooking the Memorial site. A group of us gathered on the slope behind one of the buildings shortly before 10 am to watch the planes fly over. We were unable to see the ground ceremonies. There are several trees on that spot which provided nice shade without obscuring the view.
One lady kept her TV on and kept us informed as to what was happening on the ground. We had binoculars, but did not really need them as the planes flew directly over our heads, very low, on their circuit of the memorial field. How fortunate were those of us sitting there to have among us one man who knew each plane, it's specs and it's use during the war.
When the first little plane came into view, it's single engine purring as it glided over us, I got chills--really, prickles up my arms, and the
strangest sense of nostalgia as it brought with it all my memories of that time. I was not quite 10 years old on D-Day. I remember World War II, not from a text book--first hand. My Dad tried so hard to enlist. Every branch of the service turned him down due to his poor vision.
He finally joined the state guard, where he was the bugler when at camp, and also the best shot in his rifle company. (poor vision and all!) Dad had a best friend whom my sister and I called Uncle Henry.
My Mother & Dad were both only children so we had no real uncles.
Uncle Henry was a bombardier in the Army Air force, so we girls had a "relative" to pray for. I believe, if memory serves me, that Henry served in Africa. He came home in one piece.
It was such a different world then. This was such a different country.
In school we said the pledge of allegiance , proudly saluted the flag.
It was a special honor to be the student chosen to take the flag from the holder and bring it to the center front of the class during the pledge. "Rally round the flag, boys (and girls)". When the siren screamed out a warning of approaching unidentified planes, we lined up and made our way to the underpass over which the train tracks ran.
It was very close to the school. There we stood with our backs to the icy wall, listening for the bombs which surely might come this time.
They never did. Thanks to those brave young men, filled with courage and love of country, who defended our right to salute the flag and to pray for them.
Even as an 8 and then 9 year old, I wanted to do my part. My Mother rolled bandages in the school auditorium with other mothers and knit sox for the service men. Mother came up with the idea that I sell stamps which were pasted into paper folders. When filled it was exchanged for a War Bond. I walked miles around the country roads,
stopping at every door, encouraging ladies to buy a stamp or two. I was never turned away. (Except by a pair of geese one day. That is another story!)
A different world. We really were UNITED states of America.
You would never dream of allowing a child that young to walk alone
very far out of sight today. I am glad that I lived during that time. I am equally glad that I had a mother who let me be part of it and teachers - Miss Moretti, Mrs. Thompson, who made today's history a
real part of our young lives.
As those planes passed overhead, the trainers, the fighters, the troop carriers, the bi-planes (there were 2 squadrons of four each), the heavy bombers, the daring radio planes with one pilot who soared over the battle areas reporting back to headquarters from the scene of the fight, I felt once again the shiver of fear, the tingle of amazement,
the oneness that was once the USA under good old Uncle Sam.
It has never been the same again. We will never experience war in that way again either, and the later wars only tore us apart rather than aroused the sense of togetherness that was World War II.
God Bless America and those boys, young women and the families of another time.
Please God---bless America once again.
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