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Rory,
I can relate to your dad's private secrets.
When I married my first wife and met one of her uncles, he was somewhat excited to have an airman in the family of farmers. He had been a bomber pilot with many missions over WWII Europe, but would never talk about his experiences with anyone, ever.
We would attend annual family reunions, and the occasional wedding or funeral, and Uncle Leon eventually warmed up to me. About 10 years into the annual reunion ritual the festivities had to be moved indoors due to rainy weather. As fate had it, it was Uncle Leon's home that was nearest to the park location usually used, and also big enough to bring the generations of the 13 original siblings.
After everyone had feasted Leon settled into a chair next to where I was seated, scooting it nearer and turning it to better face me. Then, almost as though he didn't even realize there was anyone else in the room, he started to tell me his war story. Slowly, all the other chatter in the house softened to silence. Those who knew that Leon NEVER talked about the war hushed the children. I became aware of the quietness and that people had taken all the seats, were sitting on the floor and on the staircase - all of them trying to hear what Leon had so long kept a secret. But it was me, and only me in whom Leon found a kindred spirit and compassionate soul who could truly relate to the ugliness of war. Leon spoke for nearly three hours. He purged his heart.
To this day, I respect the privacy about those secrets that Leon protected. I have never compromised my unspoken promise to hold those memories in confidence, nay, SECRECY. I shall never forget the tears of confession that rolled down Uncle Leon's cheeks as he remembered the death and destruction that he and his crew dropped upon those German cities. I will not share his detailed descriptions, nor do I believe anyone who heard his testimony that day will either. He conveyed to me, and to those eavesdropping, the shear emotion that had driven him to remain silent for so many years.
Shortly after that particular reunion, Uncle Leon's health began a long and slow spiral downward. To my knowledge, he never again spoke of his experiences. I believe that once was enough for him to feel that he had cleansed his soul. We would see each other again and again up until his passing. He and I shared a special bond. I was honored to be there for him.
To my surprise, after Leon passed, his wife called me one day and said that she was revising her will now that Leon was gone. She told me that he had insisted that I receive the lion's share of their estate because I had earned it through my own service more than the rest of his family (they were childless), none of whom had ever sworn the oath nor worn the uniform. As gracefully as possible I reminded here that I had only married into the family, that it was my wife who was the "blood-kin".... Maybe she should reconsider.
Well, her character was just as war-hardened as his, and she never altered the course they had agreed to. Many in the family were baffled when her will was read and they got nothing - not the farm, nor the big ol' farmhouse, nor of the equipment nor their savings and investments. I was pleased that while ALL of their estate was bequeathed to me, but not for me to keep. Their attorney was named Executor, and my charge was to distribute everything as I believed Leon would have chosen. I took that responsibility seriously and, with the help of two of his remaining crewmen, we identified some of the towns in Germany that were their targets. We donated all that Leon and his wife had amassed to worthy historical museums and monument funds both in Germany and the U.S. in their names...... That others might live and remember what price freedom cost.
Yes, it is best that the history be remembered. And, no matter who the warrior might be, it is healthy for "his story" go to the grave as well. We pray that the personal traumas of war be readily forgotten and that the scars of battle be healed in peaceful times.
I can relate to your dad's private secrets.
When I married my first wife and met one of her uncles, he was somewhat excited to have an airman in the family of farmers. He had been a bomber pilot with many missions over WWII Europe, but would never talk about his experiences with anyone, ever.
We would attend annual family reunions, and the occasional wedding or funeral, and Uncle Leon eventually warmed up to me. About 10 years into the annual reunion ritual the festivities had to be moved indoors due to rainy weather. As fate had it, it was Uncle Leon's home that was nearest to the park location usually used, and also big enough to bring the generations of the 13 original siblings.
After everyone had feasted Leon settled into a chair next to where I was seated, scooting it nearer and turning it to better face me. Then, almost as though he didn't even realize there was anyone else in the room, he started to tell me his war story. Slowly, all the other chatter in the house softened to silence. Those who knew that Leon NEVER talked about the war hushed the children. I became aware of the quietness and that people had taken all the seats, were sitting on the floor and on the staircase - all of them trying to hear what Leon had so long kept a secret. But it was me, and only me in whom Leon found a kindred spirit and compassionate soul who could truly relate to the ugliness of war. Leon spoke for nearly three hours. He purged his heart.
To this day, I respect the privacy about those secrets that Leon protected. I have never compromised my unspoken promise to hold those memories in confidence, nay, SECRECY. I shall never forget the tears of confession that rolled down Uncle Leon's cheeks as he remembered the death and destruction that he and his crew dropped upon those German cities. I will not share his detailed descriptions, nor do I believe anyone who heard his testimony that day will either. He conveyed to me, and to those eavesdropping, the shear emotion that had driven him to remain silent for so many years.
Shortly after that particular reunion, Uncle Leon's health began a long and slow spiral downward. To my knowledge, he never again spoke of his experiences. I believe that once was enough for him to feel that he had cleansed his soul. We would see each other again and again up until his passing. He and I shared a special bond. I was honored to be there for him.
To my surprise, after Leon passed, his wife called me one day and said that she was revising her will now that Leon was gone. She told me that he had insisted that I receive the lion's share of their estate because I had earned it through my own service more than the rest of his family (they were childless), none of whom had ever sworn the oath nor worn the uniform. As gracefully as possible I reminded here that I had only married into the family, that it was my wife who was the "blood-kin".... Maybe she should reconsider.
Well, her character was just as war-hardened as his, and she never altered the course they had agreed to. Many in the family were baffled when her will was read and they got nothing - not the farm, nor the big ol' farmhouse, nor of the equipment nor their savings and investments. I was pleased that while ALL of their estate was bequeathed to me, but not for me to keep. Their attorney was named Executor, and my charge was to distribute everything as I believed Leon would have chosen. I took that responsibility seriously and, with the help of two of his remaining crewmen, we identified some of the towns in Germany that were their targets. We donated all that Leon and his wife had amassed to worthy historical museums and monument funds both in Germany and the U.S. in their names...... That others might live and remember what price freedom cost.
Yes, it is best that the history be remembered. And, no matter who the warrior might be, it is healthy for "his story" go to the grave as well. We pray that the personal traumas of war be readily forgotten and that the scars of battle be healed in peaceful times.
