Posted by
John Caile on Tuesday, November 11, 2008 11:43:42 AM
Your freedom to read this, and my freedom to write it, we owe to my Dad and my Uncle Joe, both of whom served in World War II, and to the millions of military veterans who came before and after them. Dad and Uncle Joe were as different as it was possible for two people to be, yet when war came to the world, they both responded with the same commitment - and without hesitation.
My Dad was a 1st Sergent in the Army Air Corps, before it became the Air Force. He came from a small town in Indiana, where he grew up playing poker and shooting pool for money when he and his identical twin brother were as young as 10. He later played poker with everyone from gangsters like George "Bugs" Moran to football legends Vince Lombardi and George Halas.
He also played football for a traveling semi-pro team that went from town to town on a bus - for which they earned $11 a game. And in those days "a game" meant just that - the WHOLE game. The team had a total of 12 players. Other than a single backfield substitute, every player was in for the entire 60 minutes - when the ball changed hands, an offensive guard became a defensive guard, the quarterback became a middle linebacker. Can you imagine if the 320 lb behemoths of today's NFL were put in the same situation? Call the ambulance.
My Dad was 35 when Pearl Harbor was hit - a bit too old for combat by military standards even then. But he had a knack for electronics and communications, so he enlisted in the Army Air Corps and eventually wound up training bomber crews. Some of these guys were naive enough to play cards with him - to their everlasting regret, by the way.
One of the crews he trained flew a plane called the Enola Gay - that's right, the one that dropped the first atomic bomb. Until the day he died, Dad spoke with admiration of Col. Paul Tibbets, the commander and pilot on that day in August, 1945 that changed the world.
Uncle Joe, my Mother's baby brother, had an entirely different background. He was one of nine children of a Chicago Judge. He went to college and earned a degree in civil engineering. When World War II broke out he was 22 years old, barely six months after graduation. He enlisted in the Army Air Corps, where he was trained to fly.
Uncle Joe wound up in the Pacific theater, where he put his knowledge of flight and engineering to work building airfields, some of which were even used to launch the first attacks against the Japanese mainland. Flying at an altitude of 50 feet to scout potential building sites, Joe and his co-pilot joked about how often they were hit by Japanese rifle fire as they snaked down rivers and over jungle forests.
But even in the midst of war, they displayed a kind of bravado that is almost uniquely American. One time, Joe and a buddy somehow wrangled a date with a couple of nurses on a nearby island. Naturally, they had to figure out a way to get there. Being typical GI's of the time, they found a simple solution - they stole a B-25 light bomber just after dark, and went on their date.
The story of them returning at dawn the next day became a family staple - as they rolled up to the hangar they were met by a none-to-happy base commander and several Military Police. Uncle Joe and his friend of course showed the proper remorse and contrition, but, alas, as the only two civil engineers in 500 miles, they knew they were practically indispensable, and thus reasonably safe from any serious recriminations. They were right - after a major tongue-lashing, they went back to work.
After the war, my Dad and Uncle Joe, having become related by marriage, spent considerable time together, and they became deep and fast friends. Their love and respect for each other was obvious, even to strangers.
My Dad died in 1980. As this is written, my Uncle Joe lies partially deaf and nearly blind on a bed in a military hospital in the San Francisco Bay area.
But I know they can both hear me when I say "Thank You."
So, thank you, Dad. And thank you, Uncle Joe.
I will remember you both, and what you did.
Always.