Re: WWII: European Theater daily - 1944 (was Normandy Daily)
I hope no will object a personal diversion, in this excellent running account, of the events folowing the Normandy Invasion.
Many soldiers, who fought in the European theater, have reported the combat became much more brutal, once inside the German borders. The change was attributed to the fanaticism of the
Hitlerjugend. It may be hard to comprehend, to those who have no familial connection to the war, that an entire generation of young boys were brainwashed, from the time of their birth, that their lifes were pledged to a murdering lunatic. These unfortunate young boys never knew a normal life. They grew up in a world of violence, where such insanity was the only norm they knew.
Apparently, my dad had a violent encounter, with one of these unfortunate young boys, who he believed was about 12. On only two occassions, he mentioned to my mom, and one of his three sisters, that he had to shot and kill one of these misguided young boys. It was a traumatic event, that deeply troubled Dad, for the remainder of his short life.
Dad was never the same, once he returned home, from the war. He had recurring nightmares, screaming out in terror, of events that he endured. From accounts that I have read, most of the Luftwaffe attacks, at the Remagen Bridgehead campaign, took place at night. That was probably the root of Dad's trauma, with the subsequent encounter with a member of the Hilter Youth, pushing Dad over the edge. While Gen. Patton might not agree, a lot of our fighting troops could not handle the sudden impact of the horror of combat. We now call this trauma PTSD. There is no doubt that Dad was one of those who suffered greatly, with this disorder.
Fifty five years ago, today, Easter Sunday, 1960, Dad's suffering ended. While an autopsy was not performed, I firmly believe he died of a heart attack, brought on from a heat stroke, that he suffered, on Good Friday afternoon. When he returned home, on that Friday evening, Dad had a washed-out greyish-yellow pallor, to his skin. Mom was horrorfied, acting as if he was already dead. In a sense, he was. While none of us knew it, his fate was likely already sealed, as he probably depleted his electrolytes to the point where the heart was fatally damaged.
The sad, ironic twist to this was he had confided, to some of his closest buddies, that he was not long for this world. Once the mind loses the will to live, the body inevitably follows. Having myself survived cancer, at just about the same age as Dad, when he passed, I have seen this firsthand. While no one can say that the brief horrors he endured, in the war, caused his death, it certainly played a role, in how the rest of his life played out.
Seeing how my dad was affected by only being in combat for at most 6 weeks, I am constantly amazed in how the soldiers who fought in Europe, were able to return home, and create the world many of us grew up in. Not to mention the airmen, who flew in those same skies. And the sailors and Marines, who fought in the Pacific Theater. They probably were all troubled, to one degree, or another. Yet, they overcame whatever troubled them, and made the life we knew possible.
Their numbers are greatly diminished, by today. I hope that everyone who has read this thread thinks of all these brave young Americans, at least once, every year, on Memorial Day. The day is near when none of them will no longer be with us. We all owe them more than we can ever repay them.
If you will permit me one further digression, there is a mysterious twist to this tale.
Mom and I went to church without Dad. We observed the service in different parts of the church. When we met up, afterwards, we both knew that something was terribly wrong. The ride home was extremely uneasy and uncomfortable. We arrived home to find Dad dead, on the floor.
Both of us could tell you exactly where we were, and what we were doing, at the precise instance when my dad apparently died. While I happened to be alone (going from one room to another), Mom was in the main congregation hall, and required attention, as she suddenly collapsed, in full view of everyone there. Unaware of what was happening, she was dazed and confused, unsure of where she was, or why she was there.
I can't claim any special insight into what happens after we die, or whether we have a soul or not. But I can tell you, something inexplicable, and eerie, happened when my dad most likely died. I can not describe that feeling. All I can say is I hope to never experience it again. It is something I will never forget.
OK, enough of my personal weirdness. Back to kicking Schicklgruber's butt!