Walking With Giants

Clinton County had only a population of 54,006 in 1940. A casualty list of 304 people shows the suffering done by the people of the county. Several family members are listed.

 

It was the above picture of a newspaper page that fueled the idea of this blog post. I had used this image in an earlier post. When I studied this newspaper page, I was reminded of the many people I knew while growing up that served in the armed forces during World War 1 and World War 2. Many of the names in the list above were people who I knew or knew the family. Many of the people who served during these wars never talked about their experience and the first time I knew about it was when I read their obituary when they died.

I wanted to write about my family’s history in these wars but was not sure what to say. Then I came across a poem by Paul Wesselhoft that put into words my feelings much better than I could express. Mr. Wesselhoft has permitted me to use his beautiful poem for this blog post

Walked Among Giants

By Paul Wesselhoft 

 

I walked among giants,

Men of renown,

Great ones they were,

Some, were women.

These men of might

Walked the earth

And communed with us.

They were brave when bravery

Had to make a difference.

Daily, they die.

Soon, they will be extinct.

They left their mark, though,

For all time.

During the great disruption,

They performed gargantuan feats.

These titans saved the planet

And preserved a way of existence.

Daily, they die.

Some were killed in the fight,

Others captured, tortured.

The remains of some were never found.

Some were maimed in body and mind.

Most lived to see a new day, a new world.

Now, these colossal men

Serve as pallbearers for their own.

They barely carry the load.

Some hobble with canes.

Some are bent over with years.

Some can only watch

With dim eyes from wheelchairs.

Their eyes see three colors blur as one

And slowly fall into the ground.

Daily, they die.

They are almost a lost breed.

Some are written about,

Most are not.

Some, were my uncles,

Others, my countrymen.

One was my father.

I can tell my children

And their children,

That for a time on earth

I was privileged,

To walk among the giants.                                                                     

 

Uncle “Chet” Edward Bushey

 

Lawrence Cole

 

Maxwell Moore

 

Edward Lyon

 

Robert Lyon

 

Page Cole with his wife Mary Bushey Cole.

 

Charles Moore

The pictures above are from my side and my wife’s side of the family. These were some of the giants we were privileged to call dad and uncle. While I am not going to tell their complete story, I would like to share with you a quick review of some of the deeds these men did and perhaps a glimpse of the price they paid. One man was buried alive in his trench left to dig himself out with his hands and a mess spoon. His mind was so affected he would spend large amounts of time in VA Hospitals and live for the rest of his life with his sister and her husband who was also a war veteran. One man above was to come home as a young man having his hair turn snow white and was to remain that way for the rest of his life. One of the soldiers pictured above would spend the war stateside in coastal defense. He would spend the war trying to get sent overseas so he could get into the fight. I have letters from his younger brother who was in Italy telling him, no begging him to stop trying and stay in the States. The younger brother depending on what was going on either carried a typewriter or a B.A.R. weapon. One man landed with the third wave on Omaha Beach on D-day. Some fought in the hedgerows, the Battle of the Bulge, saw the air raids in London, one helped to liberate two concentration camps. Two men were to receive purple hearts for wounds. One of these men was wounded so severely that he was told he would never walk or have children. He was to have several children, and he walked until the day he died, but he did live with pain the rest of his life. Two of these men were to suffer the death of a brother in battle. I heard their wives tell of how for years after they came home that a sudden loud noise would spook them. I remember one aunt telling how after a very loud thunderstorm one night she woke up to find her husband under the bed. But for the most part, they returned home found jobs and raised families. One was to find a home working maintenance at a large college. He came to be so well respected that when the college president died the family requested that he be one of the pallbearers.

Perhaps someday I will be able to tell their complete stories. These were private men, and their war experiences were never open for discussion. Much research was done to find out what I do know. Rare was the day when any of them would speak about the war at all. When they did talk, it was usually a funny story and never about the horrors that they shared. The war was something to be left behind no matter how fast they had to run. For now, this is my small salute to them this Veterans Day.