My granddad on my mother’s side was a naval officer who commanded a flotilla of LSTs which were a part of the assault force landing troops and equipment onto the beaches on D Day. Some years back I read his war diary report on how the landings went — it was not a completely trouble free operation , not by a long shot. Sships ran aground in deeper waters farther from shore, and their loads didn’t make it to the beach, while others came under unexpectedly heavy, accurate fire from German positions out of sight behind the beachhead, apparently unscathed by the waves of bombers whose payloads seemingly were ineffective. Etc etc.. He complimented the bravery of one destroyer which came in perilously close to shore and kept zig zagging back and forth, firing its guns to suppress the enemy artillery fire, trying to offer protection to the assault troops as they struggled against heavy surf and obstacles.
None of this was ever discussed with the family, to my knowledge and per stories from other family members. When pressed, his typical comment made after a sundowner bourbon and branch water was always a laconic, “ War is Hell.”
Late in his life I noticed that amongst his personal stuff were his medals, including a Croix de Guerre, and I asked why he never displayed these tokens of valor. His answer was that fighting a war was his job. Grandad had chosen a military career, so he was right, it was a job that suited him. He said that he felt the ones who really deserved medals were the civilians in uniform, the ones who volunteered for a hazardous duty that was not what they had trained for, but they nevertheless undertook.
God bless all those who fought in that terrible war. I hope those of us still living will be willing to do the same if called to the same kind of service. What they did meant more than they might have known at the time. Thank you.
My granddad on my mother’s side was a naval officer who commanded a flotilla of LSTs which were a part of the assault force landing troops and equipment onto the beaches on D Day. Some years back I read his war diary report on how the landings went — it was not a completely trouble free operation , not by a long shot. Sships ran aground in deeper waters farther from shore, and their loads didn’t make it to the beach, while others came under unexpectedly heavy, accurate fire from German positions out of sight behind the beachhead, apparently unscathed by the waves of bombers whose payloads seemingly were ineffective. Etc etc.. He complimented the bravery of one destroyer which came in perilously close to shore and kept zig zagging back and forth, firing its guns to suppress the enemy artillery fire, trying to offer protection to the assault troops as they struggled against heavy surf and obstacles.
None of this was ever discussed with the family, to my knowledge and per stories from other family members. When pressed, his typical comment made after a sundowner bourbon and branch water was always a laconic, “ War is Hell.”
Late in his life I noticed that amongst his personal stuff were his medals, including a Croix de Guerre, and I asked why he never displayed these tokens of valor. His answer was that fighting a war was his job. Grandad had chosen a military career, so he was right, it was a job that suited him. He said that he felt the ones who really deserved medals were the civilians in uniform, the ones who volunteered for a hazardous duty that was not what they had trained for, but they nevertheless undertook.
Well, your grandfather earned his honors and deserved them just as much as any draftee.
❤️
God bless all those who fought in that terrible war. I hope those of us still living will be willing to do the same if called to the same kind of service. What they did meant more than they might have known at the time. Thank you.