On June 6, 2011, in the corner of a forgotten nursing home, sat a forgotten man who was desperately trying to forget.
The old man looked around at the room; it was a cloudy blur. Cataracts were taking his one last good sense from him. He did know the room was full of women. Old, gossipy women, if you asked him. He was the only man in the room and a source of much of their gossip. It was enough to bring a smile to his weathered face. “I would have killed to be in a room full of women when I was 20.” He rolled his wheelchair over to the window and looked out at the mountains in the distance. He loved the East Tennessee Smokies. The mountains faded to black as he closed his eyes and drifted off. He had killed when he was 20.
Explosions rocked the airplane. His C-47 Dakota, the military version of the venerable Douglas DC-3 two-engined transport, had caught fire. The Germans apparently did not want company. It was June 6, 1944 — D-Day as General Eisenhower had called it when he spoke to him and his fellow Rangers. They were in the 101st Airborne, the Screaming Eagles, and today was the first day of the end of Hitler’s reign over the continent of Europe. Flak tore through the front of the aircraft, killing a Private who had been throwing up just a second ago. He looked away from the blood and out the window to see the right engine was flaming. Not a good start to the day. Suddenly an explosion…
The old man woke up. Dorothy Snodgrass had dropped her tray, causing the young orderlies to scurry like ants. To the workers at the nursing home, he was just an old man, a crumbled relic of humanity. He looked out at the mountains again and could see shapes in the clouds. That one reminded him of the Eiffel Tower. Ah, the day he helped liberate Paris. He could smell the sweet smell of perfume in the air. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and tasted the lipstick of the young French girl who had planted her lips on his.
A young worker tapped him on his shoulder. “Time for your pills, old timer.” The man looked at the 24-year-old. The kid knew nothing about sacrifice. About pain. About losing everything and gaining ultimate victory. The kid shoved three pills in his mouth and gave him a drink of water. “Swallow these and I’ll go get you some lunch.”
Lunch. Mush or whatever the mystery gruel of the day was. Sigh. He remembered his first meal at the German cafe in Berchtesgaden. The taste of the beer. The softness of the bread. The fraulein who served him. Blonde. Busty. He closed his eyes again and his mind drifted off.
More explosions. He floated down into Hell. The C-47 was on fire, lighting up the inky black of the Normandy sky — they had to jump early. Lord only knew where he was about to land. He looked over at his Captain. Tracer fire ripped through the Captain’s body, causing him to burst into a cloud of red vapor. What was left of his body plummeted to the ground. The Germans weren’t playing. He was jolted to his senses as his legs hit the ground. More explosions went off around him…
A door had slammed. The man lifted his chin so the young man could wipe the food off of it. How embarrassing. How could a warrior like him end up in this place?
He rolled over to a dark corner, forgotten and closed his eyes once again. This time there were no explosions; he just saw his old men. They were coming out of the light, surrounded by fog. There was Lefty. There was Sarge. There was Jimbo. All had perished in the Battle of the Bulge. The Captain came and grabbed his hand. “Get out of that chair, soldier,” he commanded. The man could walk for the first time in years. He walked arm and arm with his old comrades into history.
His war was over. His victory had finally come. It was his final D-Day.
© 2011 Marshall Ramsey
Very good, Marshall, moving. May we never forget!
Excellent!
What an amazing, touching, and heart breaking article!! May we never forget what they did so we maybe here today.
Beautiful!
I hope everyone at some time in their life realizes what these soilders went thru. An elderly friend of mine just passed last week. He was a vetern of D-Day and the Battle of the Bulge. No matter how I tried to get him to talk about it, He never would.
Awesome story. I see this with the men i work with at the VA.
Great job!
You paint equally well with words as with ink. Not many are doubly gifted.
So perfectly stated, Mrs. H. Marshall Ramsey was a regular part of my lesson plans when I was teaching U.S. history and government! Now that I am retired and have “found” him on Facebook, he is still a part of my day!
I wrote this for a couple of reasons. 1. One of my heroes, Maj. Dick Winters passed away this year. He was the red-headed Captain in Band of Brothers and a true American hero both during and after the war. Last year was his last D-Day. 2. Age is brutal on even the greatest of heroes. I’ve seen how the elderly as sometimes treated and could easily see a hero fade into the sunset. This is in honor of anyone who made the sacrifices that my generation could never imagine.
Thank you. I’m a caregiver to my 90 year old brother who served aboard the USS Houston II and in Korea and my 93 year old husband who served in North Africa. These men are true heros and have kept so much of their stories to themselves. Thanks again for your writing.
And you are also a hero, as well, Felicia. Thank you and your brother and husband for their service.
I hate to think what our lives would be like if not for all the men and women who served and serve in the military. We must never forget these amazing people!! Another wonderful painting with words.
Excellent writing!!
Very touching. My daddy would never talk about it either. Now I know why…or a little bit of why. Thank you for sharing your words.
I have a veteran, Charles Otto, come and speak to my high school students every year. Each time he speaks, he seems to share something new, something that I had not heard previously. As he speaks, his impact is immediate. The students may not always remember the names or the dates, but they remember the personal story of one 19 year old soldier, wounded in Germany and considered dead on more than one occasion. Unfortunately, we are losing so many of the Greatest Generation daily. So I will call Mr. Otto today, just to tell him “thanks.” I encourage all of you to tell a veteran, whether WWII or another conflict, and say “thank you.” For them, their war has never ended, and it never will.
Marshall *tears* This descrbes my granddad to a T. He was on the Phillippines until the day he died. after he had to be put into a nursing home. In his mind he was being held captive by the nurses. I’ve had a person or two say ugly things about my granddad (not family members) and his propensity to drink throughout his life. I often wondered if they had to go through what he did in World War II how they could face another day. He shared a couple of his stories and he still cried over them even though it had been sixty years since they occurred.. I could not even bear to picture in my mind the things he was telling, much less have to see it. and he was just 23.
I enjoyed this story, it spoke the truth that so few will ever know as time passes and the yrs continue to fade.
Pingback: A collection of my short stories | Marshall Ramsey
Thanks for this great story.
Have met many who gave a lot. Death is the Ultimate sacrifice. Survival is a lifetime of memories good and bad that the old bold solders have to sacrifice. My dad lived through being shot in the leg and crawling miles while his feet froze. He and his memories survived. Sorry he was killed in a work related accident @ 36 and never lived to see how his generation is thanked for what WWll gave to the baby boom generation they fathered and an America we have the privilege to live Free to choose and live our lives.
Moving story – and so sad that so many of our veterans are not recognized for serving and for what they did. We have a ceremony at First Baptist Church of Byram every year to honor our service personnel and First Responders, police and firemen. I love talking to those who served or are serving that are willing to share their stories. Thanks to all of them and may God bless them.
WOW!! My father in law was in the Navy during WWII. Many trip across the Atlantic on convoy escort, aroung the South Pacific, then was in Tokyo harbor when the treat was signed. He’s now 85 and sharp as a tack.
Thanks.
Beautiful story, Marshall.
I just read this again. And cried again. I cannot even imagine how many forgotten heros passed (and still are passing) their time in nursing homes in this way. But, I know it happens.
Everyone should thank God for our Veterans. If we didn’t have them, we wouldn’t be where we are today.
Thank you, Marshall, for writing this. I’m sure I’ll read it again in the future and be just as touched by it.
Pingback: CARTOON: The Final D-Day | Marshall Ramsey
How ironic that you would publish this particular drawing of “The Final D-Day” in today’s CL. My dad passed away on June 2. He was 91 years old and was a not only a veteran of WWII, but was a Boatswain’s mate in the Navy, in charge of a crew of four on landing crafts during the Pacific Theater. Dad had nightmares after his service and he once said he saw far too much death during his time in the Navy. He spoke very little about the war but was always proud that he had served and loved his country until his last breath.
I was just thinking what bravery in a heart has to do with long life for the heart. Looks like a brave heart either dies when it is called on to be brave or it outlives the brain and body in a lot of cases. Is drooling a sign that that is still life inside so pay attention folks, pay attention. Drooling in some cases might be punishment. Either case, whether drooling is privlidge or punishment, we need to know, to honor. learn from their mistakes or offer forgiveness and humility or just a listening ear, then we might live long enough to drool and have folks who do not have the time but do have the heart to come visit us. Let’s call it Repetivitve Living Royal and that kind mainly comes from average hearts that sometimes must be brave.
Great story Marshall. Your passion shows through in everything you do. Thank God there are people like you.
Thanks, Marshall. The D-Day drawing was very appropriate. My dad is still around and well at 87. He was a gunner on a B-17 in Europe.
Reading Fried Chicken while wasting time before going to the birthday of a 90 year old who landed in France on 6/6/44, made me rethink my discomfort about not being able to really get in to anything on a free Saturday due to the timing of the party.Thank you for helping my attitude. Bye the way ,thanks to all who put off their 20th birthday to liberate the world.
Pingback: CARTOON: D-Day
Thank you for reminding us of how very much some gave!
THIS IS SUCH AN EMOTIONAL STORY! MY DAD IS ALMOST 93 AND SERVED IN WWII IN THE PHILIPPINES & OUTSIDE TOKYO …HE’S NEARLY BLIND AND HIS MEMORY IS FAILING..BUT HE SHARED ONE INCIDENT WITH ME ABOUT A SHELL THAT NARROWLY MISSED HIS THROAT … THEY HAD JUST YELLED FRESH COFFEE & HE HAD JUST MOVED FROM HIS BUNK. THEY WERE A 3 MAN RADAR POST ON TOP OF A MOUNTAIN OVERLOOKING A US AIR STRIP PROTECTING OUR FREEDOM & OUR COUNTRY. I AM VERY GRATEFUL & BLESSED TO HAVE HAD A DAD & A UNCLE SERVE AND RETURN! SOME GAVE MUCH MORE! I AM VERY THANKFUL FOR ALL OUR MILITARY, LAW ENFORCEMENT & THOSE WHO SERVE! YOU WILL NEVER BE FORGOTTEN!!!
Your artistry with words is only surpassed by the use of your pencil and paper.
Marshall, this is so inspiring. You conveyed what must be the thoughts of so many veterans who are passing on. My Dad lived to age 100. He rarely talked to us about WW II as we were growing up. I pressed him to write his experiences but he never did other than to make some comments about what was written in the book that was published after the war documenting the service of his old infantry division. But as he spent his last few days on Earth at Baptist Hospital in Jackson his mind slipped in and out of consciousness. Once he mumbled something we could not understand. The minister asked him to repeat it and he then said in a clear voice, “I said, go find a ‘dozer and bury those 28 dead Japs. I can’t stand looking at ’em anymore.” To the end of his long life he was still experiencing the combat of 1945. But he never regretted one day of his Army service and frequently said that to me in his later years.
I finally have come to realize that words can be as beautiful as pictures. Thanks for explaining that to me. I am still crying after reading your beautiful words.
Remarkable! 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸