Veterans… the True Heroes

*Note*

In May, 2013, after a visit with my aunt and uncle, I guest-blogged a post of the following article on a blogging page that what was then called The Barn Door. It worked perfectly for the upcoming Memorial Day, so I thought how much more appropriate that year, for Veteran’s Day as well. I modified it just a little bit and added one more thank you to the end of this post. Regardless, recognizing our veterans any time of year is most important. You will see a most precious conversation in the first half of this post. I hope you enjoy it as well as the pictures and memories.

Good Company, Conversation, Memories, and Blessings

I love good company. Getting to sit and visit, laugh, talk about the Lord and all He has done for us, it’s just good stuff. I got to do just that when my Aunt and Uncle came for a visit. Having house guests is fun. Not only do we get to visit, but we also get to go out to eat. It was while out for breakfast on their last day with me that our morning took a small turn; a turn that would give us all a warm heart, but also some precious memories.

It was as we sat finishing our breakfast, the plates cleared from the table, and we were just chatting and drinking coffee, that he came shuffling past and took a table behind us. His gait was slow. He was older and somewhat frail-looking. Large, dark glasses on his weathered face, to protect his eyesight. Over-sized jacket worn to protect against the chill. Then I noticed it, perched on his head of white, thinning hair was a cap that read, “World War II Veteran.”

My uncle, sitting with me, is a Disabled American Veteran (that’s what his hat says). He served in the Army and is very astute at making sure to thank other veterans, regardless of age, for serving our country. Having had both of my grandfathers serve in WWII, my cousin serve in Afghanistan, and a friend of my son who also served and came back with many injuries as well, I know how important it is to make sure these Vets know that their service is greatly appreciated. However, the knot in my throat had constricted my voice other than to whisper to Mark, “Did you see the hat on the man behind us?”

“Yes. I’m very aware of him.”

Then my aunt says, “I wonder if he knew Grandpa?” So she grabbed her coffee mug, stood up and turned around. The ensuing conversation was priceless:

(L) Mark, (C) Jylonda, (R) Mr. Mosley

Jylonda: “Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I noticed your hat. You served in World War Two?”

Instantly his face lit up. “Yes, I did.”

Jylonda: “Are you from West Frankfort?”

Veteran: “Yes, I am.”

Jylonda: “Maybe you knew my father. His name was Roy Gardner. He had a heating and air business here in town.”

Again, recognition lit his weathered face. “Yes I did! My name is Mosley. I had a plumbing business here for many years.”

Jylonda: “Oh, okay! I remember that. Well, my father also served in World War Two. He was in the Army Air Force. I noticed your hat and I wanted to tell you thank you for your service and what you did for our country.”

In an instant the atmosphere changed. Surprise, wonder, and humbleness crossed his weathered features. Then Mr. Mosley spoke very quietly, “Well… I appreciate you stopping to tell me that. I really do.”

By this time his breakfast had arrived, yet it remained untouched as he continued to talk with Jylonda. Mark had turned in his chair and was listening intently to the conversation, too. I decided to get up and capture this moment in time.

Jylonda: “If you don’t mind my asking, where did you serve?”

Mr. Mosley: “Well, I was in the Philippines when “The Bomb” dropped, you see. Then I served in the Special Forces in Japan…”

He spoke so softly that it was difficult to understand him at times and some of the conversation was lost on my part, but not the importance. Here we were in the presence of a special individual. There is no amount of guessing which could possibly render even a minute imagining of what this man saw or even experienced. Yet, he served, and were he to be asked to serve again, I’m sure he would do it with his whole heart.

A while back, I had a previous encounter with a Veteran of Vietnam. Listening to him tell as much as he was willing to divulge, including “Everyone came back changed. In more ways than you know.” I knew there were secrets that not even his closest relative would ever be privy to. Just as with our present WWII veteran. Just as with my two grandfathers, Roy Gardner and John Volanski, who both nearly never spoke of their service. 

My grandpa Roy, whom my aunt was speaking about, served in the Army Air Corp in WWII. He was in the 445th bomb group (This group was begun by the Army and later became the US Air Force in 1949). Grandpa’s unit participated in many major battles, including Battle of the Bulge. He was a mechanic, but also a waist-gunner. But what I always thought was very cool was that Grandpa’s Commanding Officer was none other than actor Jimmy Stewart! In my childhood days, I heard Grandpa tell a few stories about Jimmy Stewart, but whenever we would ask him questions about his service, his entire demeanor would change. The smile would leave his face and his blue eyes would take a faraway look. Then sadness would replace the sparkle that was usually always present.

My grandpa Johnny (known to his buddies as Farmer) served in the Marines. He was a private. He, too, had been in the Philippines, but he also did something with a “big gun” as I used to call it. Pictures of him standing with ribbons of massive bullets draped to his chest make me wonder exactly what he did and saw. Years ago, I found his address on a photo album which contained all his war pictures. This is what it says: “Pvt John Volanski, Btry. “A” 2nd Spl Wea BN, Camp Elliott, San Diego Calif.” This grandpa would not divulge any information to his grandchildren when asked about what he did. All we could get out of him was a gruff, “The Marines are the toughest branch of the military! They’re hard on you and they make you hard!” Then he would remind us to “take care of your feet!” I think I have a pretty good idea why he was the way he was.

Now here we were, many years later, in a restaurant speaking with a Veteran who also gave just a tiny bit of information. I don’t think it was because he forgot. Because I really don’t think one can forget something as life-changing as serving in times of war. However, the fact that mere strangers took notice and took the time to say thank you was life-changing all in itself.

We left our precious Veteran to finish his breakfast, to which he made sure that our interruption was “no bother” to him whatsoever. What a blessing we got that day!

Grandpa Johnny (far L) with his buddies Myslajek (center), and Millis (far R) (I believe the year was 1942)

Whether a Veteran, or even just a stranger on the street, the importance of stopping and taking the time to speak to someone is often more important than you may realize. You brighten that person’s day. You give someone hope. You help someone find their purpose in life. Whether they are young and just beginning their journey, or are older and coming to the end of theirs, the attention and love you show someone could just let them know they have not been forgotten.

Butch with his older sister, Erin

Handsome guy