Words from the Heart

My Dad's Boot Camp Cohort - Great Lakes John Henry Neas, Jr.  My Dad survived WWII, returning home after the Japanese signed the surrender. He saw service in both sides of the globe.  First, in Normandy, and then in the South Pacific. Dad didn't talk much about the war. Like most veterans of his generation, the stories didn't come to light until their elder years, and then, usually when around their shipmates and comrades in arms. I've written before of the stories Dad told me. Some tear at your heart and others make you laugh. The photos below are of his last ship, the USS Hyman. This was the ship that he was aboard during the kamikaze attack in which he barely escaped death.  This is the ship where the surrender was signed for the small Pacific island of Pohnpei.   Pohnpei is where the missionary wife sewed an American flag under the noses of her Japanese captors, believing with all her heart that the allies would liberate the island. The...

My youngest daughter just experienced one of the most difficult times for a young woman...waiting for her sweetheart to return from war.  We give thanks that our Austin returned safe and sound from Afghanistan.  We also give thanks for his friends who didn't make it home.  May their family and friends find peace in their memories of times spent together. Finally, on this Memorial Day weekend, we give thanks for all those loved ones who have been put in harms way defending their country.  God bless them all.

Back many years ago, in a land far, far away, a young man, brother of a friend, was killed when his helicopter crashed into the jungles of Vietnam. His funeral was filled with other young people, some of us too young yet to serve, others waiting for their draft numbers to be called, and still others breathing with relief, knowing that their lives would not be disrupted by enemy fire or shrapnel or anti-aircraft missiles. Dougie was tall and handsome. The kind of son any mother would be proud to call her own; the kind of young man any girl would be proud to bring home. His death put an end, not only to his dreams, but the dreams of his family and friends. When the Vietnam Memorial was created, I found myself writing the poem below. I sent a copy to Dougie's sister, promising her that would bring a copy to put under Dougie's name at the memorial. It took me twenty years, but I finally got to Washington, D.C. On a warm summer afternoon, surrounded by bird song, I walked the l...

But for the grace of God... Some sixty years ago, my Dad was aboard a destroyer in the South Pacific dodging incoming kamikazes. He was told by his CO to run down the deck for the fire hose. He went immediately, reaching the hose just as a plane crashed into the deck exactly at the place where his CO and he were standing minutes before. They never found the CO's body. In those few minutes, the lives of my Dad, his children and his children's children - ad infinitum - could have been lost forever. The first time I realized how tenuous this life was, was the Memorial Day when I was around 10. Mom told me this story for the first time. Dad didn't talk about the war, much. But, on this day, he added details that made my young mind grasp the enormity of the situation. Had he hesitated to obey orders, if his CO had ordered one of the other men, if the pilot had moved the throttle a hair one way or the other, I would not be memorializing my Dad on my blog. I would not be here...