Seventy years ago today was D-Day. Dad was a young, good-looking guy in the US Navy. He was in four battles and two submarine engagements during World War II. His ship, the USS Edison, was on its way to Omaha Beach in early June, 1944, when it was turned around at the Straits of Gibraltar. They were sent to the South of France, off the coast of Nice, as a diversion, to confuse the Germans as to where the invasion was going to happen.
Dad has talked to us about his war years in recent times. The other day, I asked him if he was ever scared, and he replied, “All the time.” Nowadays, as their numbers are dwindling,our WWII Vets are recognized regularly. In 2011, Dad was able to be a part of the Flight of Honor out of Madison, Wisconsin. Our youngest brother, who was born thirty-six years after D-Day, was Dad’s escort. It was a thrilling and moving experience for Dad and the rest of the family.
Today, sitting on the folks’ front porch, we talked about the Navy’s role in D-Day. The media hasn’t really given sailors their due for that day, but there are six of us and Mom, who wouldn’t have been here together if things had gone differently for Dad seventy years ago today. That’s seven of us who respectfully thank a young sailor for living the fear, doing the job, and coming home safely to live a great life in the home of the brave.