The Katywompus Journal Observing Life's Little Quirks by Diane Moody |
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Entry #44: "Here We Mark the Price of Freedom"
As I write, it is Memorial Day 2004. This year, we've actually acknowledged what this national holiday signifies - at least I hope we have. With the televised dedication of the World War II Memorial in Washington, we watched as the now-80-something crowd descended on our nation's capital to see this long overdue tribute in their honor. "They came to the National Mall in wheelchairs and walkers, on crutches and wearing uniforms smelling of mothballs . . ." writes Lisa Burgess of Stars & Stripes. "Their eyes shined with tears of pride as they heard famous men sing their praises." The grandeur of the new memorial recognizes the 6 million men and women who served in the U.S. armed services as well as the millions of Americans who supported them from the home front. On the memorial's Freedom Wall - an arched expansion lined with 4,000 stars to represent the 400,000 Americans who died in that war - is an inscription engraved in stone that reads, "Here we mark the price of freedom." Is it even possible to grasp the meaning of those seven words? Unless we have personal ties to war, how deep is our comprehension of the freedom that was bought for us at such a great sacrifice? My father is a World War II veteran and proud of it. He should be. Glenn Howard Hale was just 19 years old when he left college to join the Army Air Corps. His military career got off to a grand start when his graduation ceremony at Santa Anna Air Force Base was filmed for the 20th Century Fox movie, WingedVictory. (Look quick - that's Dad on the fourth row!) But the reality of war would come soon enough. On December 29, 1944, he flew his first combat mission as co-pilot on a B-17, part of the 8th Air Force 390th Bombardment Group based in Framlingham, England. Less than three months later, on March 2, 1945, while on a bombing run to Dresden, the #3 engine on Dad's plane caught fire and eventually forced the crew to bail out over Poland. I can't even imagine what it must have been like for a 20-year-old facing that kind of imminent danger. Yet, he and his crew survived. It would be two months to the day before they were able to make their way back to base in England, returning with tales of their unforgettable adventure. Then, on May 7, 1945, the day before VE Day, Dad was privileged to fly a Food Drop mission to Holland, an experience that made an indelible impact on him. The Dutch were starving to death at the hands of the Germans. Not a single dog, cat, horse or rat could be found in that country by that time. It was quite an emotional thrill for 2nd Lieutenant Hale to help these allies who had suffered so much at the hands of the enemy. For as long as I can remember, Dad has talked about those three years as if they happened only yesterday. It's as if each moment, each experience, each nuance was forever seared onto his soul. On any given day he can tell you exactly where he was on that date back in 1943, '44, or '45. It was, without question, the defining moment of his life. Why? Because he understood there are things worth fighting for. Glenn Hale, like so many others of his generation, responded without hesitancy when his country called for action. Dad knew the cause for freedom was just, and he knew he had to do his part. A few years ago, at our request, he recorded his war memoirs so we could have a written account of his experiences. I'm so glad he did. I appreciate the efforts of people like Tom Brokaw who have made it their mission to record as many of these stories as possible. In Brokaw's words, "If we are to heed the past to prepare for the future, we should listen to these quiet voices of a generation that speaks to us of duty and honor, sacrifice and accomplishment. I hope more of their stories will be preserved and cherished as reminders of all that we owe them and all that we can learn from them." We would do well to learn from these men and women and acknowledge the enormity of their sacrifice. But beyond such acknowledgement must come our gratitude. On occasion, if Dad happens to be wearing one of his 8th Air Force ball caps or a 390th golf shirt, a young person will go out of their way to convey their appreciation by two simple words: "thank you." It never fails to bring tears to his eyes, but nothing could please him more. Click HERE to send Diane an email. She welcomes your comments and suggestions. She's Flying the Coop Blessed are the poor... Back to School It All Started With Eve It's Almost Here! Forget About Weapons of Mass Destruction - let’s Talk Hormones The Other "W" "If only I could..." "Put Down That Remote and Step Away From the TV!" Take This Job and Love It! As the Stomach turns! Pet Peeves Cue the Balloons! 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