What my Dad Kept From Me as a Child

My Dad would never discuss his involvement in the War, just telling me that it was something I didn't need to know at my age.  My grandmother, however, showed me photos of the prisoners that he had sent to her.  They were all naked, so at age 8, I began to understand what War really was.  After I had joined the Marine Corps and was home for Winter Vacation for 2 weeks, we had a discussion about what my MOS was going to be.  He was very proud that I had chosen Avionics.  A few months later I met and then later married a Marine who was an Air Traffic Controller.  My Dad then started actually telling me stories of things that happened when he was in the War.  He was deeply disturbed that he had had to kill so many people, and he looked at them as people just like himself, and it was a kill or be killed situation.  He was never wounded yet he saw many friends and relatives go down right in front of him.  Every night they would dig a different fox hole and would call out to the others, and some would pray and some would just say how scared they were.  Hearing the other guy's voices helped them from coming unglued while they sat huddled, hoping that an enemy or a snake wouldn't get in the hole with them.  The other guys called my Dad Al because he was from Alabama.  My Dad died August 6, 2007 at home from non-operatible pancreatic cancer.  I took care of him the last 2 weeks and he was holding my hands when his heart stopped.  I had called my brother and my aunt and they contacted all the family.  There were between 30-40 people around my Dad's bed when he died.  The grandkids were singing the songs that he liked and we could tell he knew because he turned his head to listen to them and then his body would relax.  Being able to be with him and take care of him during his last days was a great honor for me.  The last words that he said to me before he went to sleep the night before was, "Glenda, I love you" and he pursed his lips for a kiss and I bent down and kissed him.  When I woke up a couple of hours later, he was groaning and twisting so I gave him some pain medicine.  At 7am, the hospice nurse told his sister and me that it would be a matter of hours so we were able to get the family there like he had requested.  I found out the next day that he had made all the funeral arrangements 2-3 months before, when the doctor had told him that the cancer was terminal.  I arranged the military honors portion of the funeral, making sure that my oldest sister knew how to receive the flag.  The American Legion did a great job and the newspapers printed his obitionary almost word for word the way we had written it.  My Dad and I were close on that one aspect, that we felt it was our duty to serve our country and keep our freedom.  He will always be a hero to me.

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