Monday, August 8, 2011


My triathlon was on a Marine base. After the ocean swim, we biked up a hovercraft ramp. Saturday and Sunday night, my sisters and I watched a WW2 (pacific theater) marine thing with my dad. Guadal Canal, and, Peleliu and Iwo Jima and Okinawa.  It was all so horrible. And they were all just kids. One guy died when he was 17.

By the end of it all. I forgot they had dads because they seemed so old. But they did. And when they went home, riding trains, they just hugged them. Or shook hands.

How did anyone survive?

What they were asked to witness was very hard for any human to carry.  I'm astounded by their stories. They were so scared and so brave. And many many of them were so kind.

I'm really grateful for everyone who is defending our country right now. Especially those 30 men who died in Afghanistan. And their families. 

1 comment:

  1. My granddad flew in fighter planes in WWII. He was shot down and kept as a prisoner of war. He was sent on a death march across Germany in the winter. He lost almost half of his body weight, and most of the men marching with him died. While he was gone, his wife gave birth to their first son. He didn't even know she was pregnant. He was the bravest man I ever knew. I watched him die when I was 20 and he was 87. I wish my children could have known him.

    Nothing moves me quite as much as patriotism. It's in my blood.


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