He got up in the morning - it had been raining, he said, for days. This day seemed like any other, as one would basically blend into the next. For almost four years had passed since he kissed his wife goodbye, and was called up for active duty in September, 1939. He was one of the so-called "D-Day dodgers", a title given to those who didn't land in Normandy in June, 1944, but had the unfortunate luck of landing in Italy a year earlier. Facing him were a collection of Italian regulars, plus additional hardened battle-tested German forces, brought in from the eastern front under the guidance of General "Smiling Albert" Kesselring.
This particular day, although starting the same, soon became different for my grandfather. As a gunnery sargeant, one of his duties were to hop on his motorcycle, scout ahead for a clearing, then come back to guide his group of artillery to assemble in that forward location. What to us would perhaps sound like a nice jaunt in the countryside had a constant and potentially high price for him. The basic premise was that you had to make no sound whatsoever. You would ride up to a location, quickly shut off your motorcycle, scout out the location, start up your bike, and get out quickly.
This morning, my grandfather had a close friend of his accompany him to a planned firing position. My grandfather recalled that in this case, his friend had decided to ride into the location first, about 1-2 minutes before my grandfather would get to the same spot. My grandfather then said that when he got there, his friend was lying on the ground, with the bike still running, on top of him. What my grandfather's friend failed to do was shut off his bike engine - thus attracting the attention of a German sniper stationed in the woods. My grandfather had no option but to immediately turn around and not be the next target.
This to him was a typical day in 1943.
My typical day is to groan about my taxes, or complain about the traffic in the city.
One thing to me is clear though - if it wasn't for people such as my grandfather, who stepped up to the plate and basically dodged bullets for 6 years - I might not have the same luxuries as I sometimes take for granted today.
So, at 11:00 this morning, give our vets a minute of our busy day, and think about what they gave to ensure our freedom.
This particular day, although starting the same, soon became different for my grandfather. As a gunnery sargeant, one of his duties were to hop on his motorcycle, scout ahead for a clearing, then come back to guide his group of artillery to assemble in that forward location. What to us would perhaps sound like a nice jaunt in the countryside had a constant and potentially high price for him. The basic premise was that you had to make no sound whatsoever. You would ride up to a location, quickly shut off your motorcycle, scout out the location, start up your bike, and get out quickly.
This morning, my grandfather had a close friend of his accompany him to a planned firing position. My grandfather recalled that in this case, his friend had decided to ride into the location first, about 1-2 minutes before my grandfather would get to the same spot. My grandfather then said that when he got there, his friend was lying on the ground, with the bike still running, on top of him. What my grandfather's friend failed to do was shut off his bike engine - thus attracting the attention of a German sniper stationed in the woods. My grandfather had no option but to immediately turn around and not be the next target.
This to him was a typical day in 1943.
My typical day is to groan about my taxes, or complain about the traffic in the city.
One thing to me is clear though - if it wasn't for people such as my grandfather, who stepped up to the plate and basically dodged bullets for 6 years - I might not have the same luxuries as I sometimes take for granted today.
So, at 11:00 this morning, give our vets a minute of our busy day, and think about what they gave to ensure our freedom.
