The Greatest Generation

Sad news last week prompted tweets and postings about the America's greatest generation.  One Facebook user asked people to share stories heard from World War II veterans about their experiences in the war.  Her point was to celebrate her and other's grandparent's contributions, as well as, raise awareness of the incredible value of our very senior seniors.

My grandfather, whom I was very close to, almost never spoke of the war.  But growing up, I knew it was there, lurking in his mind.  His habit was to fall asleep on the couch with the TV on.  And, when I was old enough, my job, when I visited, was to wake him when Barney Miller, or The Rockford Files ended, and it was time for bed.

There were two methods for waking my grandfather. Grandma, generally, chose the verbal method.  Standing several feet away she would say in a loud voice, "J.P. It's time to go to bed.  Get up now, Hun.  J.P."  I preferred the tool method.  I would hold a long backscratcher, kept nearby for this purpose, and stroke the bottom of my grandfather's feet.

Regardless of which method was used to wake him, his response was always the same.  He jolted up.  The arm closest to the couch was cocked in a ready position.  The arm away from the couch swung swift and violent towards the speaker, or the device.  His eyes were piercing but not quite clear.  Then recognition would dawn and he'd ease back to the couch and recover himself. 

My confession is that I perversely enjoyed his reaction.  On one level it was predictably funny.  On another level it was dangerous - get too close and you'll get clobbered.

When I was old enough to understand, my grandmother explained that in the Pacific Theater the Japanese fought hard and ferocious. They employed the guerilla tactic of silent knife attacks while the US soldiers slept in their foxholes. Such an attack happened to my grandfather.  His foxhole buddy was on watch, but evidently, fell asleep.  He was killed. My grandfather awoke, fought, and killed the Japanese soldier.  Then fought for another year from island to island.

He almost never talked about the war, but I knew it never left him.

JP Miller, 1945, Philippines