Gman
Airman
I cannot say how often I have seen the World War Two documentaries, read the stories, and seen the pictures. I've watched the kamikaze footage with morbid fascination as they crashed into ships.
I only saw one object crashing into another. One day, I realised that I wasn't watching an object; I was watching the last moments of somebody's life. There was a man (or men) in that plane- a human being who doubtless had a family, who had a voice, who had hopes and dreams.
I surf Ebay and look at the war "relics" from that conflagration, and I try to look beyond the object. Those "objects" were often personal and had a story to tell. A helmet with a bullet hole in it.
Think about that. Somebody's head was probably in that helmet; perhaps that explains why so many of them lack liners.
It is so difficult for us younger generations to understand the turmoil that so many WWII veterans have to endure, but I like to think that my way of looking at those objects help me to understand at least somewhat.
Many veterans suffer from survivors guilt; most feel that the true heros were those who did not come home. I only have to respectfully request that those fellows really stop and think about that.
The jobs of those who did not come home ended more than 65 years ago. The survivors job, however, is ongoing. Those who did not make it home have stories to tell, and it is the survivors duty to give that voice to those who can no longer speak. We deserve- have the unmitigated right- to know what happened to them, and how it happened in as much detail as possible. No matter how unpleasant that story may be, the family deserves closure- and so do those who payed the ultimate price.
This burden falls on the survivors, and this is why I feel that THEY really are the heros. They do not have the luxury of forgetting or to put that war behind them. They HAVE to live on to tell the stories for those who cannot. Anything less would be a selfish injustice.
Mr. Amundsen from "A Fighter Pilots Story" once wrote (and I point out that I probably misspelled his name) to the effect that as he looks at the graying photos of those who did not come home he realises that while he continues to grow old, they shall remain forever young.
I thank each and every one of you World War Two veterans from the bottom of my heart and from the depths of my soul for doing your jobs so well in your generation that we never had to complete it in ours. You survivors ARE the real heros to me. You endured- and continue to endure- the unbearable so that those of us who came after you would not.
God bless each and every one of you.
I only saw one object crashing into another. One day, I realised that I wasn't watching an object; I was watching the last moments of somebody's life. There was a man (or men) in that plane- a human being who doubtless had a family, who had a voice, who had hopes and dreams.
I surf Ebay and look at the war "relics" from that conflagration, and I try to look beyond the object. Those "objects" were often personal and had a story to tell. A helmet with a bullet hole in it.
Think about that. Somebody's head was probably in that helmet; perhaps that explains why so many of them lack liners.
It is so difficult for us younger generations to understand the turmoil that so many WWII veterans have to endure, but I like to think that my way of looking at those objects help me to understand at least somewhat.
Many veterans suffer from survivors guilt; most feel that the true heros were those who did not come home. I only have to respectfully request that those fellows really stop and think about that.
The jobs of those who did not come home ended more than 65 years ago. The survivors job, however, is ongoing. Those who did not make it home have stories to tell, and it is the survivors duty to give that voice to those who can no longer speak. We deserve- have the unmitigated right- to know what happened to them, and how it happened in as much detail as possible. No matter how unpleasant that story may be, the family deserves closure- and so do those who payed the ultimate price.
This burden falls on the survivors, and this is why I feel that THEY really are the heros. They do not have the luxury of forgetting or to put that war behind them. They HAVE to live on to tell the stories for those who cannot. Anything less would be a selfish injustice.
Mr. Amundsen from "A Fighter Pilots Story" once wrote (and I point out that I probably misspelled his name) to the effect that as he looks at the graying photos of those who did not come home he realises that while he continues to grow old, they shall remain forever young.
I thank each and every one of you World War Two veterans from the bottom of my heart and from the depths of my soul for doing your jobs so well in your generation that we never had to complete it in ours. You survivors ARE the real heros to me. You endured- and continue to endure- the unbearable so that those of us who came after you would not.
God bless each and every one of you.
