Some of you have read this before. I am reposting as part of the #KnowOurVets request by President Bush. I hope to get a personally signed copy of 41, my dad loved President Bush (so do I). If you like it please share and help me get that copy to pass to my sons one day. God Bless America. I grew up watching my father suffer from the wounds of not having a father. He, too, was a military man, as was his father before him. But my grandfather was killed in action during the invasion of Anzio Beach (Italy). He was killed April 6, 1944, just over a year prior to the end of the war. His cause of death and the location of his grave would remain unknown to my dad for nearly 60 years. My discovery of my grandfather’s grave and my uncovering of our hero is a story of healing. The story begins in a small bar in Vicenza, Italy on a random weeknight. As I was leaving the otherwise empty place, I noticed an elderly man who appeared to be American alone in a corner booth. I decided to buy the man a drink. What started as a simple gesture led to a string of events I could never have dreamed… At some point during our very long conversation (we closed the bar down), the topic turned to fathers. I told him of my father and my grandfather, whose cause of death and burial location remained unknown. What I didn’t know at the time is that I was speaking to a retired Command Sergeant Major whose friend worked with the cemeteries overseas. And it was while sitting in the corner of a small bar with that gentleman when the first ray of hope came shining in. He wanted to help. The offer seemed to good to be true. I honestly never expected to hear from him again. We were both a little intoxicated and just talking, right? But in a matter of a just a week, the old man reached out to me and told that he had found my grandfather’s grave. He found it!!! I took the information he gave me and boarded the next train headed south to a cemetery called Sicily Rome Nettuno. As I walked up to that grave for the first time, I knew that something amazing happened. I knew that, with this discovery, my life would change and so would the life of my father. What I didnt know is how much it would change our relationship. The next few months would read like a Hollywood script. At the time, I was in the running to be recognized as the soldier of the year for the United States Army European command. At the same time the military was gearing up in preparation for the 50th anniversary of the invasion of Normandy and the end of the war. One special part of the celebration would include having men who jumped into Normandy 50 years ago jump in again (these men now in their 70s) during the re-enactment of the airborne invasion. I had been asked to participate in that reenactment and jump with them. It was a great honor to be asked. However, I had just learned that President Clinton was touring Africa and Europe on his way to the 50th anniversary celebration at Normandy. One of his stops would include the very cemetery where my grandfather was buried. Rather than jumping into Normandy, I was granted the request to participate in the ceremony at my grandfather’s cemetery. The amount of pride I felt as a platoon of men and I took part in that ceremony was overwhelming. That day, I shook the hand of the president of United States and stood tall with him in front of my grandfather’s grave. And, just a few weeks later, I received a very special gift: my lieutenant colonel (who took my place at the Normandy celebration) gave me the very bottle of wine that he was given for participating in that jump. There were only enough of these made for one to be given to each person who was on that jump. I now had the details of my grandfather’s location, pictures to share and a bottle wine to be cherished. I packed it all up and sent it to my father (who, at the time, was completely unaware of anything which has transpired). I made a promise to myself when I sent that package that if I would take my father to see his father’s grave himself. Someday, I would make it happen. Years passed, I finished my education and I started my business. I saved my money. The very first Christmas after enough money had been saved, I presented my father with a picture frame. The frame included the only known picture of my grandfather (taken less than two weeks before he was killed), a picture of my father and finally a picture of myself...all in our military uniforms. I had inscribed at the bottom a quote by the French writer Moliere: Birth is nothing without virtue, and we have no claim to share in the glory of our ancestors unless we strive to resemble them. Along with that picture frame was an envelope containing two open-ended airline tickets anywhere in the world. My offer was to take him to the grave. The picture you see below is from that day. That day when I watched my father stand in front of his fathers grave for the first time. That day when I watched a barrel chested ironfisted union worker hit his knees like a child. That day when I watched years of suffering flow down his face. That day when, like no other time in my life, I felt a sense of completion. That day when three generations came full circle and we all became one. While Veterans Day is a day to remember those who served for us, for me it will always remind me of the power of healing. Happy Veterans Day.
Posted on: Tue, 11 Nov 2014 22:04:51 +0000
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