June 6th, 1944 is a day that I doubt will ever be truly forgotten, and it shouldn't be. Over memorial day I had the thought to write this post but didn't have the time to do it justice, so I'm making up for lost time. Especially since my thoughts coincide with D Day.
When I was young I had to write a report for a class. I was assigned to interview someone who had lived through a historic event, or something like that. I don't remember why I had to do the assignment, I just know that my mom encouraged me to talk to her dad.
My grandfather was a soldier in World War I I and was sent to Normandy in June 1944. He arrived a few days after D Day. He told me that as they reached the shore you could smell the death that washed over those shores. You could feel the tension in the air and as he looked across the blood stained beach at all the men left there, it didn't matter what side they were in. They were gone now. Both sides lost men. Both sides fought with all they had.
As the days progressed, my grandfather kept fighting and one day was out on patrol. German soldiers came up on them and started shooting. My grandfather put his hand on his helmet and one point and was shot. To this day, he still can't bend his finger completely, but if he hadn't had his hand on his helmet, he would have died. Instead, he was sent to Switzerland to recover and was then sent to work in several Allied offices until his tour was completed.
Because of his time in Switzerland, my grandfather loves clocks. He said that he fell in love with the Black Forest Cuckoo clocks. He couldn't afford one at the time, being a poor soldier, but he always wanted one. This was something I grew up knowing about my grandfather without knowing where he'd gained a love of clocks.
Upon his return home, my grandfather was met at the bus station by his best friend who had also been to war. He is filled with emotion as he talks about the mountains of Utah behind him and his friend waiting to greet him. He knew he had made it back home. He knew that he would be alright now. That the worst was behind him.
There is something about the Rocky Mountains that is unmistakably peaceful. Though they tower over my hometown, they seem like gentle giants guarding my family and home.
I can relate to my grandfather in some ways. I know the feeling of home that resides in the valleys of Utah. I have felt the relief of coming home from a long journey. I have not felt the fear or grief that comes with war. And I hope that we can all take a few minutes to contemplate the sacrifice of so many men and women through out all of our country's history that allow us the freedoms we have today. Without them, this country would not know the joys of freedom and peace. Thank you.
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