A Little Late For Memorial Day, But...

A Little Late For Memorial Day, But...

This here is a picture of little Mr. B sitting in a ball turret, cute and comfy as can be. Can you imagine a full grown man fitting in there, with his knees at his chest, shooting at the enemy and knowing if anything goes wrong, he will probably die? When I went to church on the Sunday before memorial day, I got up to lead the music and I realized that we didn't have one single patriotic song on the list to sing. So I asked if we might sing a patriotic song - they are in the hymn book, so I thought it would be very appropiate. "No, we don't sing those songs on Memorial Day, that's not what the day is for. Today is Sunday". That's what I was told by the leaders in our church.
I'm not one who ususally bucks the system, but I do have a little brain of my own and I like to use in once in a while to keep the cobwebs out and the gears from sqeakin' to awful loud when I think. NOT WHAT THE DAY IS FOR?!?!?!?! Then what is it for? Having BBQ's and picnics, and eating greasy, fried food until we burst? Sheesh...in light of that moment of anger I felt in church (and have since repented of) I would like to give a little info about our (well, my husband's) Grandpa Delbert's ordeal he went through during WWII when his big bomber plane was shot down over Germany (or France occupied by Germany)....
I went into the service on Jan 6th 1943. We were shot down on our 19th bombing mission, near Laon France on February 25th, 1944, (Maxine's mother's birthday) and I was in The American Memorial Hospital in Reims France (Under German occupation) for three months. Then we were moved to Stalag Luft IV near Kolberg, way up on the Baltic sea in what is now a part of Poland.
We left Stalag Luft IV on Feb 6 1944 and marched six hundred miles in the dead of winter, sleeping on the open ground and in hay barns and surviving on a starvation diet. Out of the 6000 who left the Prison camp only 2000 of us walked across the Elba River to freedom 87 days later, around the first of May. I was a prisoner of war for 14 months. After we were liberated, I spent three months in France waiting for a ship to bring me home. I was discharged on November 25th 1945. I was in the service just one month under three years.

I am so thankful - really, truly, thankful for what he has sacrificed for the freedom that my small family enjoys every day. What an amazing man. And he makes up a particle of the men who served then and who serve today. I put up my big flag for every occasion, and I always have a few little ones flying around the garden. My favorite color is red, white, and blue. Really. I try to go out of my way to thank my service men & women - I am scared to think "What would I do, where would I be, without them?". So THANK YOU to everyone who has served - in ANY way to help us keep what we worked so hard to gain - our most precious and beloved freedom.