Two WWII 'Legacies' of a Limb and a Life that were Left Behind...

From lives filled with great contributions, achievements & sacrifices to those who may just share a kind word or smile to strangers. We all touch the lives of others. We all have our own legacies... the 'things' we leave behind.

I am reposting this again today, following Memorial Day 2022, in honor of my mother, who is now 3 years older at ae 93. She is indeed a true 'Veteran' in her own way, just like so many other 'Veteran' family members:

Now, in 2022, as we reflected upon this recent Memorial Day Weekend, after so many years I now feel deeply moved to share with you a couple of such 'things' that were left behind by members of my own family.

My Uncle Don, whose hometown was Wahoo Nebraska, left one of his legs behind in Burma and my Great Aunt Alpha's son Jimmy, who grew up in Plattsmouth Nebraska, left his whole body and his whole future behind him in Belgium.

BTW: From the millions of children, women and men of the Greatest Generation we only have two (ages 93 and 95) still alive in our family. My Mother and my Father. My six veteran Uncles have all passed on. Like that small 'hand-full' of those in their Greatest Generation that are still with us today, this year's Memorial Day could be their last or certainly one of their last.

My mother was just in her early teens when her older brother Don was finally able to come home from the War to Wahoo. In the jungles of Southeast Asia he had fought beside the famous Merrill's Marauders. There was no instant messaging back then so Mom was both surprised and excited to see Donny hobbling from a distance towards here on the sidewalk with his crutches. While he didn't talk much about it, he did eventually share with her how his leg was completely blown off so suddenly in a surprise explosion. Then, he told her the agonizing tale of how the locals treated him by putting maggots on his open wounds and boy, they 'itched terribly' and he couldn't scratch them. He told her how he had to wait and lay in the jungle for days until some of 'our guys' came and rescued him. Then, while home recovering for months in Wahoo, my teen-aged Mother sat up with him and held his hands night-after-night through his, what they now call, Night-terrors. Mom also had to frequently change his bloody bandages and clean his oozing wounds. Infection was quite prevalent back then and she had to guard against that setting in. Imagine that. The pressure. And, she was just a kid! (My uncle Don went on to marry his sweetheart and they were blessed with five children. He became a pressman at the Omaha World Herald but he died early at the age 43 from 'complications' of his war injury. Uncle Donny was a great guy and I remember him fondly. When I was a small child, he let me tap and play on his wooden leg like it was a toy. As I grew older and learned more about him, he certainly became one of my heroes. BTW: He never got to see or get to know his grandchildren or his great grandchildren.)

My Great Aunt Alpha was a wonderful lady and she always had a very special place in my heart. I loved her dearly. She and my Great Uncle Jim owned the local pharmacy in Plattsmouth. (With a perpetual air of appropriate dignity and with that silver-gray hair, she was always dressed to the hilt, always in her Sunday best. It wasn't until her very last days as a resident in the Masonic Home did I ever see a hair out of place.) Sadly, Aunt Alpha was filled with pain every day, after losing her Dear Jimmy for the rest of her very long life. I never knew my Great Uncle Jim as he evidently died unexpectedly of a broken-heart after the war ended. Jimmy was decorated as he flew several successful missions over Germany as the flight Bombardier and was Killed-In-Action when his Flying Fortress was shot down over Germany. Many years later, my folks went to Europe and were able to meet the fine lady who had tended to Jimmy's grave for years. This woman's constant acts of love for a man she never knew means so much to us even today. (Jimmy's name is listed on a monument in Plattsmouth and he is buried at the Ardennes American Cemetery in Neupre, Belgium.) Unfortunately, we just learned that one of his crew members, who immediately became a POW after being captured parachuting when they were shot down, had died just a couple of years ago. So, any chance we had, any stories where we would have learned more about Jimmy, died with him. Naturally, I never got to know Jimmy and very little was said about him because he had just started his life when he enlisted into the service. He never had a wife. There were no children, grandchildren or great grandchildren. Had there been, my Great Aunt Alpha would have been a wonderful grandmother and great grandmother, spoiling each and every one. Here in Nebraska we often refer to this place by saying that we are able to live "The Great Life" but Jimmy never got to live out his.

The sacrifice that my Uncle Don and my Great Aunt Alpha's son, my Dad's older cousin, Jimmy came to my mind today. Then, there was another Donald, from the old Omaha Technical High School who left behind his all. While in his barracks Donnie instantly covered a live grenade. He never came home but his story lived on in the lives of those guys that he saved. Known only to God, each one of those men went on to be his Legacy.

This is not a typical LinkedIn subject but I pray that it is meaningful to you. I'd like to leave you with this last thought: "This is the Land of the Free because of the Brave."