Wow. I'm just too young to remember anything like that. Such a powerful image, (actually, imageS) and it must have been so strange for a kid to try to comprehend...
I wondered why the blacks were destroying businesses and fighting against the police. I thought it was strange seeing men with shotguns sitting in the street in broad daylight, as if they were hoping for someone to shoot at. My parents didn't say much about it. The news was no help, simply reporting facts, without giving explanation as to why these things were taking place. It was confusing to see, but I didn't enjoy seeing men beaten or attacked by police dogs. When students were killed demonstrating at Kent State, I thought that we were at the turning point of a revolution. Turns out: it was a revolution. People revolting against morality and the 'norms' our culture had formed, which provided stability and safety which we have now sacrificed in the name of sexual 'freedom' which is actually bondage. We have queers who are 'out', pedophiles, adulterers and every sexual sin men can imagine as the 'norm' making our nation one of the most perverse on the earth. Children who've never heard the word, "No," or had any discipline at all running roughshod over their teachers and peers, growing up to be sick, twisted self-seeking clods, wandering after their own lusts their whole lives. It's pretty sad, really. We've let go that which was good and embraced lasciviousness and vanity.
Sounds like there's an intense and crazy story there. Wow. Would love to hear it.
Central Germany, near the end of the war... Dad was wounded by an artillery shell in a creekbed, along with the rest of his squad (some of whom were killed outright by the explosion, shrapnel wounds, some died on the way to the aid station). The lieutenant was groaning, due to his wounds, and a nearby machine-gun nest would fire in their direction (through the morning fog) aiming at the sounds of moaning. Dad had his kneecap removed by a piece of shrapnel, but still crawled over to the lieutenant, and put his sidearm to his head, and told him if he made one more sound, he'd blow his brains out. They were rescued by a tank platoon advance, and when they got to the aid station, the lieutenant sought dad's court martial. The doctor, a colonel, asked dad what happened. He told dad that he would have just shot him. He also recommended dad for an award for bravery. His fellow soldiers were glad that dad had made it safe for them, and the army gave him a Bronze Star for his actions that day. He treated the men's wounds and stopped bleeding until medics arrived. I've spoken with four other men who were there that day, who described the things that happened, in detail, and never tired of hearing the story. My dad's best friend from grade school, who later became a prominent attorney in Cincinnati, would tell me the story, almost every time I went to see him. I never stopped him from doing so. He knew I had heard the story, he just felt better telling me how dad had saved his life that day.
Something so simple but so crazy powerful. In an earlier post you'd mentioned you dad had problems with black people when he was young (as many people of that generation did). To have been able to make a real change within a lifetime is (I think) pretty amazing... And for a kid to witness that change I think is probably pretty profound.
Dad's friends and the integrity of the blacks that he became friends with is responsible for the change, as well as dad's demeanor. He always got along with most everyone. He was a practical joker, and loved by many folks. He still is remembered by me, every day; and I'm thankful and honored to be his son. :thumb:
lain:
