2K7 said what I always remember... They only fade away when we fail to remember.
Condolences to you and prayers for your family.
A glass is , and will be, raised to him and all the rest.
God Bless,
Emri
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2K7 said what I always remember... They only fade away when we fail to remember.
Condolences to you and prayers for your family.
A glass is , and will be, raised to him and all the rest.
God Bless,
Emri
Sorry at the lost of your dad. I know you will treasure his memories.
Combat Medics go up against the same dangers as Combat Infantrymen for the most part but don't get to carry arms and have to ignore the hell around them to help their squad mates. Until March, 1945 the Combat Medic didn't get any recognition in the form of combat pay ($10 a month) or badges like the Combat Infantrymen. The Combat Medical Badge on Dad's Ike jacket was a long time coming and came kind of late in my opinion.
I never saw anything scare Dad except the loss of Mom. He had me go first and decide if the casket would be open or closed. Looking at Mom in her casket was the only time I ever saw him with tears in his eyes. Everything else in life was to be faced (or faced down), as need be. Whatever fears he had, he faced stoically with no complaints.
Some of my memories from T/5 Henry:
Dad said the grease stain on his Medic's armband was from the German tank that ran over him (his training was to dive for the space between the tracks). One of his squad mates wasn't so lucky; the tank that he dove under stopped over him and sank in the mud.
Dad said he went through about six of the red cross helmets. When I asked why, he said, "The Germans kept shootin' at 'em." He lost one helmet when he tripped and it bounced into the road ahead of him and a German machine gunner ripped it up.
One time at the Great Western gun show, we saw a Johnson Light Machine Gun on display. It reminded him of a time that a certain gunner stopped shooting the LMG to switch helmets and tend the wounded stuck between opposing forces on the banks of a river. He never actually said who the gunner/Medic was.
When he took me to see the Catch-22 movie, his comment about the dis-embowelment scene was, "I've seen it. It happens sometimes."
His campaign ribbons were for "Bein' there." His Good Conduct Medal was for "Bein' good" (probably for his young bride's sake). He never commented on his Certificate of Merit from the Central Europe Campaign. The local Missouri paper said that Dad "gave no explanation of the award" though he kept the clipping that I'm holding now. I've also got his Mess Card from the USS Enterprise showing that he never missed a meal. Dad said that he got extra meals by borrowing Mess Cards off his seasick bunkies.
Dad was strict about muzzle discipline. One of his Oregon State ASTP classmates was shot in Europe by a squad member cleaning his rifle. He also taught me not to shoot up all my ammo while plinking. "Always walk back to the car with a loaded gun," he said to me once on one of our desert excursions.
Dad was deaf in one ear because the tank his infantry squad was by fired its big gun without warning the foot soldiers. Dad came to in an aid tent with a ruptured eardrum. He didn't get a Purple Heart because he didn't bleed from the injury and Army logic was that "friendly fire" that didn't produce blood didn't count even if the injury was permanent.
One day when we were walking in the snow near Lake Tahoe, Dad stopped and stared for a while at a tree ahead of us. Then he bent over and packed a snow ball and said, "See the crook in that tree? There's a sniper in it." At the count of five, his snowball was falling parallel to the tree trunk at the height of the "sniper's" perch.
I asked Dad once if it was just a story that a man's hair could turn white from fear. He said that after they were shelled one night, one of his squad did have black hair the night before and white hair in the morning. If it ain't true, it oughtta be.
During another shelling, the radioman made the mistake of telling the radio how much the shells were missing by. The next volley was right on top of the radioman.
When I was just a kid, Dad took me to the park near where he was born and showed me a monument with names covering all four sides. Names of men he'd known and gone to school with who gave their lives for their country. Dad never talked about fear or bravery; I don't think he thought the living had a right to.
Thanks, Dad. I'll always keep the best you gave me alive. And while I'm not a gin drinker like you, I will lift a glass of whiskey to you tonight and many times to come.
a long, honorable, productive life - a well-earned rest with all our forefathers who define the term "citizen-soldier"
We all sleep a little sounder because of the sacrifices that men like your father made. Although none of them will admit it, they are the giants of our nation, the men who made this country great and the world a better place.
His watch is over and now he can rest. Thank God for men like your father and for people like you who cherish their memories.
Vi,
Thanks for the story of your father. Our medics are definitely unsung heros. A friend of mine is a combat medic. They never forget their duty. She was driving to work and saw a car get run off the road into a pond. Without hesitation, she dove in and saved 2 women. I'm sure your dad was such a person. They never think of themselves as heros, but in our eyes, they will always stand tall as an example to us all..
VI,
My condolences on your loss. The Greatest Generation will live on in our hearts and minds forever.
God bless you and your family,
Don
Arthur,
Please accept my sincere sympathy for the passing of your Father. May it bring added peace to know that the comfort of your Father's love is never far away.
Don Wooldridge
West Point Class rings and dances with Big Bands may be what Hollywood wanted us to think of the "Long Grey Line" and officers
But it was was the young American boys from "Wherever U.S.A." who answered the call of the the 'Thin Red Line" and claimed the victory.
Requiescat in Pace
THANKS FOR SAVING THE WORLD
JERRY
My condolences to you and your family, you will be in my prayers this evening. And as you said, here is a toast to your father and mine (Herbert M. Hollinger, Capt. USAAC/AF 1939-1955) and all the WWII vets that have laid down to rest to be with their maker. They are in a better place and watching over us at this very moment. We must show them that their efforts and accomplishments in life were not in vain.
We are losing somewhere around 3000 and day. At that rate we had better start toasting every one of the fine WWII vets that fought for what we have today. And toast those that never came home and never had a proper life nor a chance to live it.