Freedom Isn't Free
My grandfather visited my older son's history class today. They were discussing World War II, and he had told his teacher that Papa had been an Army medic who had gone ashore at Omaha Beach on D-Day. She enthusiastically asked him to bring Papa in. Like most of the WWII veterans I have met, Papa has never spoken much of his experiences until this year when Aaron did a report on D-Day and interviewed him. My mom even said she had never heard the stories that Papa related to us.
When I entered the classroom I found that two classes had combined and were sitting motionless as his tale unfolded. Papa and Aaron stood at the front of the class, with Aaron looking like his biggest fan. Papa had bought a brand new shirt for the occasion, and stood very tall and straight for his 80 years. Through his words we were all transported back in time. He told of how the troop train he was on in Texas broke down in the desert in the broiling sun. He described the violent rocking of the ship that carried them across the Atlantic to England, made even worse by having to zig-zag to avoid submarines. Then he spoke of the D-Day invasion itself. You could almost feel the tension and anxiety of the men on the landing crafts. He told the kids about all the gear the men were wearing, and how fortunate he was that the craft he was on put them off in chest-deep water. Some men, weighted down by all the gear, jumped from other landing crafts into deeper water and were swallowed by the sea. Others trying to swim to safety were crushed underwater by the heavy ramps of other landing crafts. Papa said that he got to shore about two hours after the invasion began. One boy raised his hand and asked Papa how it felt to go ashore. Papa stopped and thought, and considered the wording of his answer. He simply told the boy it felt bad, bad because the water was icy cold and he was having to crawl over those who didn't make it. Papa and the men lay there all night. To put things in terms the kids could understand, Papa told them that more men died in the invasion that day than live in Rockdale County. He told of waiting three days for food, and of how the Germans destroyed anything they might have been able to use. Papa reminded the kids that they had no helicopters then, so wounded soldiers had to be cared for and moved as best as they could. He talked on about making it to Paris, and then moving on up through Belgium. He spoke of the bitter cold, the foot-long icicles, and the fact that they had shoes and canvas gaiters instead of boots. He told them of sending V-mail home to the family. Then he told them of being loaded onto another ship heading to join the fighting in the Pacific. The captain came on the PA system and told the unbelieving soldiers that the war was over and they were heading home, and to prove it he turned the ship around hard. Papa reminded the kids several times that he and all those who served did what they did so the kids could be free. He told them to remember that the soldiers were thinking of the flag and about those left behind. He said he had done it for each and every one of them, and his voice broke a little when he glanced over at Aaron. His words echoed so many others when he told them to respect the flag and the soldiers because "freedom is not free." I'll bet Papa never dreamed while lying on that beach at Normandy that 60 years later he'd be standing in front of his great-grandchild's peers as a piece of living history - as a hero.
I stood in renewed awe of this man and the others of the "Greatest Generation" as I listened to his tale. I used to wonder why they were referred to that way, but now that I have talked with so many of them I understand. We owe so much to them! I was proud to stand there, knowing this brave man was a part of me and my children. I thought about Granny, who waited patiently outside the school because "this is Papa's day." This couple braved separation and war, built their first home with their own hands, and brought their children to another state to make a better life for them. They have never been afraid to work hard to reach their goals and are absolutely devoted to their family. I can honestly say that they love all of us (two daughters, three grandchildren and spouses, and four great-grandsons) equally and completely. The Greatest Generation is not selfish nor lazy, and does not take things for granted. They are patriotic, loyal, hard-working, and respectful people - people who have literally laid down their lives for others.
Today our soldiers are fighting for the same ideals of freedom and liberty, but unlike the Greatest Generation they are taken for granted. The people at home fuss because the war isn't over yet. We have become a nation of people who don't want to get their hands dirty to accomplish what needs to be done. But men like Papa and Barry and scores and scores of others have always been there to pick up the slack and get the job done.
No, freedom is definitely not free, but it is certainly worth the price.
When I entered the classroom I found that two classes had combined and were sitting motionless as his tale unfolded. Papa and Aaron stood at the front of the class, with Aaron looking like his biggest fan. Papa had bought a brand new shirt for the occasion, and stood very tall and straight for his 80 years. Through his words we were all transported back in time. He told of how the troop train he was on in Texas broke down in the desert in the broiling sun. He described the violent rocking of the ship that carried them across the Atlantic to England, made even worse by having to zig-zag to avoid submarines. Then he spoke of the D-Day invasion itself. You could almost feel the tension and anxiety of the men on the landing crafts. He told the kids about all the gear the men were wearing, and how fortunate he was that the craft he was on put them off in chest-deep water. Some men, weighted down by all the gear, jumped from other landing crafts into deeper water and were swallowed by the sea. Others trying to swim to safety were crushed underwater by the heavy ramps of other landing crafts. Papa said that he got to shore about two hours after the invasion began. One boy raised his hand and asked Papa how it felt to go ashore. Papa stopped and thought, and considered the wording of his answer. He simply told the boy it felt bad, bad because the water was icy cold and he was having to crawl over those who didn't make it. Papa and the men lay there all night. To put things in terms the kids could understand, Papa told them that more men died in the invasion that day than live in Rockdale County. He told of waiting three days for food, and of how the Germans destroyed anything they might have been able to use. Papa reminded the kids that they had no helicopters then, so wounded soldiers had to be cared for and moved as best as they could. He talked on about making it to Paris, and then moving on up through Belgium. He spoke of the bitter cold, the foot-long icicles, and the fact that they had shoes and canvas gaiters instead of boots. He told them of sending V-mail home to the family. Then he told them of being loaded onto another ship heading to join the fighting in the Pacific. The captain came on the PA system and told the unbelieving soldiers that the war was over and they were heading home, and to prove it he turned the ship around hard. Papa reminded the kids several times that he and all those who served did what they did so the kids could be free. He told them to remember that the soldiers were thinking of the flag and about those left behind. He said he had done it for each and every one of them, and his voice broke a little when he glanced over at Aaron. His words echoed so many others when he told them to respect the flag and the soldiers because "freedom is not free." I'll bet Papa never dreamed while lying on that beach at Normandy that 60 years later he'd be standing in front of his great-grandchild's peers as a piece of living history - as a hero.
I stood in renewed awe of this man and the others of the "Greatest Generation" as I listened to his tale. I used to wonder why they were referred to that way, but now that I have talked with so many of them I understand. We owe so much to them! I was proud to stand there, knowing this brave man was a part of me and my children. I thought about Granny, who waited patiently outside the school because "this is Papa's day." This couple braved separation and war, built their first home with their own hands, and brought their children to another state to make a better life for them. They have never been afraid to work hard to reach their goals and are absolutely devoted to their family. I can honestly say that they love all of us (two daughters, three grandchildren and spouses, and four great-grandsons) equally and completely. The Greatest Generation is not selfish nor lazy, and does not take things for granted. They are patriotic, loyal, hard-working, and respectful people - people who have literally laid down their lives for others.
Today our soldiers are fighting for the same ideals of freedom and liberty, but unlike the Greatest Generation they are taken for granted. The people at home fuss because the war isn't over yet. We have become a nation of people who don't want to get their hands dirty to accomplish what needs to be done. But men like Papa and Barry and scores and scores of others have always been there to pick up the slack and get the job done.
No, freedom is definitely not free, but it is certainly worth the price.
posted by Jennifer at 6:39 PM
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