My grandfather with Wrong Way Corrigan, pilot of the 1940's, in the South PacificThis is from a letter to my Great Grandmother in 1945:
Dear Mrs. Bryant, I felt I needed to write this, I felt that you needed to know what happened the night your son Harold died. Harry and I were good pals so I wanted to tell you. It was so cold on Christmas Eve. Harry and I were dug down deep into our foxhole and he was missin' home real bad. He heard some boys in one of the holes dug aways from us and they were singing Christmas songs. He decided to join up with them and sing 'cause it was Christmas Eve and all, so he climbed over to them. And Mrs. Bryant, that's when the shell landed in their hole, and that's what happened to Harry. I wanted you to know this. I miss Harry.
Dear Mrs. Bryant, I felt I needed to write this, I felt that you needed to know what happened the night your son Harold died. Harry and I were good pals so I wanted to tell you. It was so cold on Christmas Eve. Harry and I were dug down deep into our foxhole and he was missin' home real bad. He heard some boys in one of the holes dug aways from us and they were singing Christmas songs. He decided to join up with them and sing 'cause it was Christmas Eve and all, so he climbed over to them. And Mrs. Bryant, that's when the shell landed in their hole, and that's what happened to Harry. I wanted you to know this. I miss Harry.
My great uncle, Harold, was killed on Christmas Eve in the Battle of the Bulge. He was one of three brothers who served in WWII. My grandfather also served in the South Pacific. While at times I question our purpose in war (seems like more so these days), I never question the bravery, the courage and the sacrifice our men and women who serve our country exemplify.
Honor and thank our Veterans this weekend. We've benefited greatly from their sacrifices.
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