"...rightful"

 

I’ve been writing about my father, and other male relations lately on other pages, and boards. Mostly in regards to their being Negro and fighting for the segregated U.S. armed forces during World War 2. There he is up there. Sargent Alfred Smith United States Army Air Corps 1944. 

I was going to write something next week for Memorial day. It’s the start of the summer season. Also it’s the day we remember all of our war dead. All from every war we’ve been in. This is a first draft, but I decided to post it today. I’ll post another version on the day.

They were Americans defending their country. Despite everything they, and theirs had suffered this was their country, and no one, not the Klan, not Tojo, not Hitler was gonna say it wasn’t. I’m thinking back to the 1950’s when I was a little boy, and my Dad, and my Uncles, combat vets all, towered over me like redwoods.

There was a strength even in their softest words. I felt very safe in that forest of elders. They’d come back. They were home, and were setting about to make their country, their rightful home better. They had just fought, and helped to defeat two of the most evil powers to appear in centuries. If those forces had won I would not be here nor would most of you. 

My elders never spoke openly about what they’d seen, and done. However we could see the road map of battles cut into their body’s. When at the beach I saw war scars on my Dads legs, and burns on one Uncle, and shrapnel wounds on another. They didn’t have to tell us we saw, and understood.

They're gone now, and I miss them all. So I say God Bless you Dad, Uncle Lee, Uncle George, Uncle Clyde, Uncle Owen. Thank you for giving us our lives, our hope, and the World.