Veterans Day

The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. I've told the story of how my parents, who were very young children, heard about the end of WWI. Because WWII was the defining event of their young married life, I'd never thought to ask them about WWI, until. . .

"I didn't hear about WWI memories until sometime in the early 1990s. I had interviewed my father for an oral history to include in a family recipe collection for a reunion of the descendants of his parents who had died in 1983. I had interviewed my mother about her parents' personal library for two articles I wrote. Both recalled in their 80s the first Armistice Day (now called Veterans' Day) even though they were 5 and 6 years old. I imagine they listened in on adult conversations and caught the fear and dread that gripped their communities. My mother's father who was 44 was registered for the draft. And although I haven't seen the record, I would assume my father's father, who was a much younger man, did too. There were no radios or television, and newspapers would have been too slow. So the plan was to ring bells when word came to the nearest town that the armistice had been signed. The church bells would be rung; then each farmer would begin to ring the bells they used on the farm; then the next farmer a few miles further away would hear and begin ringing his bells. Both my parents had exactly the same memory of that first Armistice Day--hearing bells tolling throughout the countryside from all sides. The war was over."

Armistice Day now honors all Veterans, living and dead. On this day I think I've shown photos of Uncle Clare, and Uncle Russell (Joe) and Dad, so here's a photo of Uncle John, Dad's brother. Dad's brother John was inducted into the Army in December, 1942. He served with glider troops in North Africa and Sicily. In England during preparation for the invasion of France, he served as glider instructor. He took part in the invasion of Normandy and was wounded then and again in Belgium. He was discharged in June 1945. Uncle Russell, Dad and John's younger brother (probably still a teen) served in Sitka, Alaska, and then was with the first wave of Marines who stormed Iwo Jima and was wounded; he was awarded the Purple Heart. Dad's cousins Andy, Bill and Phil were in the Army serving in Europe, Philippines and Korea; his cousin Wayne and brother-in-law Glaydon (Gramps) were in the Navy and served in the Pacific; cousin-in-law Harlan served in the Army in New Guinea and the Philippines; brother-in-law Johnny was in the Coast Guard; brother-in-law Charlie was also in the service, but I don't know the branch. Another brother-in-law, my mother's brother Clare, was in the Army Air Force and died in the China, Burma India Theater in 1944. Dad served on the U.S.S. Mayo and made two trips across the Atlantic and one trip each to Okinawa, the Philippines and Japan. Not bad for a farm kid who had probably not been further away from home than Chicago and never learned to swim. All but two of these men were from the same town and all are deceased now. [Service records and photos of over 400 men and women for a town of less than 3,000 appear in "War Record of Mount Morris" edited by Harry G. Kable, 1947.] Even the town band was part of the National Guard and served in the Fiji Islands. (From a blog I wrote 11/10/05)