Memorial Day Memories
From a worried American
“Every year — in the full tide of spring, at the height of the symphony of flowers and love and life — there comes a pause, and through the silence we hear the lonely pipe of death.” ~ Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr., Memorial Day 1884
There are at least a dozen American cemeteries in France holding the remains of U.S. soldiers killed during World War II, including my mother’s cousin Billy Finton of Pennsylvania, who died almost two months after participating in the invasion at Normandy. On Memorial Day 2024, eighty years after D-Day June 6, 1944, I feel we should honor those who fought facism abroad in hopes it would never reach our shores. Today, that possibility worries me.
My mother grew up in Cleveland, but spent summers at her grandparents’ farm in northwest Pennsylvania, where numerous cousins visited. She was especially close to her aunt Elizabeth’s boys George, Wesley and Billy. Billy Finton was a few years older, and my mother adored him. Billy came of age during World War II, enlisted in the Army, and was killed in action in France at St. Lo on August 1, 1944.
My mother corresponded with several soldiers as a teenager during the war. She saved the letters from Billy and read them often. His death obviously had a tremendous impact on her. She carried a laminated photo of him in her wallet throughout her lifetime, and visited his grave on a trip to Europe with my dad in the 1980’s.
Billy’s brother Wesley served in the Navy and moved to California after the war. He married, lived on a ranch, and had twin boys named Jerry and Billy, named after his fallen brother.
My mother grew solemn every “Decoration Day,” as my grandmother always called it, since we decorated the graves of those who had served. To my shame, I never truly felt the pain my family members must have felt, losing Billy at such a young age and having him buried across the sea. Now that I’m older, I can begin to fathom their grief, and the need to keep memories alive.
My father, Jack Parker, would land at Omaha Beach thirty days after D-Day, still facing fierce battles and witnessing horrific events. He earned 3 battle stars.
Sgt. John W. (Jack) Parker, U.S. Third Army infantry, landed at Normandy July 6 (D+30) 1944 at Utah beach from an LCIL - Landing Craft Infantry (Large) - a craft designed with ramps to allow solder is to disembark as they approached shore.
He was in Paris the day after it was occupied by U.S. Troops, with shooting still going on. He was in the siege on Ft. Driant near Metz in the Moselle Valley, then the battle for Frankfort and Nuremberg. He was in Bavaria for rest and recovery when the atom bombs hit Japan.
It took him 50 years to talk about the war, and then he did so through his paintings, a hobby he took up after he retired from teaching geology at Albion College, and was finally diagnosed with PTSD. He was forever after ambivalent about patriotism, concerned about world leaders, power, and bloodshed. He did not want his sons to go to war. And yet, he’d be proud of the great grand daughter who joined the Army 70 years after he served.
His experience explains so much about our lives with a highly intelligent, jumpy, complicated man who loved us but didn't always know how to show it. We had a whole generation of people scarred by that war and unfortunately it didn't end there. I'm grateful for my freedom, but very sorry for the sacrifices required.
”As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter the words, but to live by them.” ~ John F. Kennedy
Remembering all veterans who served and sacrificed for our country, including my maternal grandfather, Albert Barton Gallaher, who served in France in World War I. No photos of Grandpa in uniform that I could find, but here's one of my brother Chris and me at the creek on the farm in Pennsylvania, where we often visited in the summer. ♥️ 🇺🇸 Enjoy your weekend.
What a thoughtful tribute, Marsi. Thank you. Happy Memorial Day to you two.
Beautifully composed, Marsi. My father also entered France after D Day as part of the Big Red 1. He drove a half track , returned a pacifist, and never talked about the war. I wish I could talk to him now…