This week I wanted to spotlight authors who have served in
the armed forces. I thoroughly enjoyed their stories.
SAT &BAF! Tales of a Tower Rat
Since I read both of his books, we start with Doug Depew. He
was in the army during the turbulent 80’s. His job: security at a Pershing
Site. For those of you in Germany, it is a great tale with no fluff or
imaginary stories. According to Doug , the town the site was stationed at was
very excited to here he’d written a memoir for not just his comrades, but also
of the wonderful people he met during his stay.
Recall: Return of the IRR
His second work takes on a whole different flavor. After
serving his tour, he hoped he wouldn’t have to go back. Not the case. The
papers he signed with Uncle Sam stated, “if we need you again, we’ll come a
calling.” And that is what they did. Imagine starting a career, ready to join
the world of commerce and then get a call that all of your plans have changed.
Needless to say, he wasn’t really excited about not being able to finish his
training in the recording business, getting in shape and having to go through
all the fun of boot camp again. Despite his life being put on hold and severely
disrupted, in the end, the path he ventured on turned out to be a godsend. We
never know what doors will open until we walk through them.
Bringing the Thunder
Our second author is Mr. Gordon Bennett Robertson Jr. He
recounts his days of training and flying the largest bomber of his day: The
B-29 Superfort. This is a nonsensical story of all thirty-five missions he
flew. Some are exciting while others are not. That is the beauty of the story.
Just the facts. I can not imagine being in a bomber for sixteen hours at a
stretch.
Blood on Red Dirt
Do you have an interest in Vietnam memoirs? If so, Gary
Cowarts’s recollections of those difficult days in the war that should have
never happened is a compelling recount of his adventures. Unlike Mr. Mason’s “Chicken
Hawk,” this is an upfront personal account. Mr. Cowart is inducted and assigned
to an artillery battery. He finds the work exciting and challenging. He
respects the grunts on the frontline, but has no problem with his position in
the rear. If he can make their lives easier by wiping out the enemy with 105’s
, life is good. But fate has a funny way of throwing him into the front lines
on a clean-up mission with dire consequences. An excellent story!
Soldat
Siegfried Knappe is our guest author this week. He provides
the insight of a German soldier thrown into the depths of mother Russia as a
tank driver. He holds nothing back in describing the failed attack at
Sevastapol and the fear of being overrun by Rokossovky’s T-34’s during
Operation Uranus. Excellent insight from a soldier called to perform his
duty.
After reading the above works, one will appreciate that no
matter what army you served with, there is a common thread between men who
serve. They weren’t mired down in politics or the ideals of the country they
fought for, they were concerned with the men standing to their left or right:
their comrades in arms.
One final note, a good friend of mine lost a close family
member. Wallace Russell passed on 5-13-2013. While I didn’t know him long, his
take on the war and life will leave a lasting impression. The following is my
tribute to him and the millions of men who fought in WWII.
CV-10
YORKTOWN
Her steel
decks glistened,
In the
Virginia sunlight.
The call to
arms,
Was a
distant sound.
She
patrolled the Atlantic,
Dodging
U-boats and planes.
She moved
through the canal,
Scraping
paint and steel.
The mighty
Pacific would be her home.
December 7,
she rested no more.
Wally
answered the call,
Like many
of his day.
They
boarded the decks,
Prepared to
fight the Japs.
The captain
said, “American Samoa.”
American
what? Where? When?
“And then
the Gilberts and Marshalls.”
Gilbert—Sullivan?
Glenn—Miller?
“Guys,
sounds like a grand time.”
The claxon
sounds disrupting the boredom,
“Man battle
stations,
Enemy
aircraft approaching.”
We ask no
questions,
we answer
the call.
“All hands
to battle stations,
This is not
a drill!”
The smoke
cleared,
The danger
passed.
We breathe
a sigh of relief.
Back to
Pearl for replenishment.
“Men, next
stop Coral Sea.”
Coral what?
Where? Why?
“All hands
to battle stations.”
She dances
on the calm sea,
Avoiding
the white tails of death.
We fire
fast and furious.
One by one
the planes fall.
“Be careful
of the boys flying CAP!”
We aim
straighter and tighter,
Splash one,
splash two, splash…
Thunder and
smoke drown our voices.
“Damage
control to lower decks!”
Sixty-six
dead,
Scores
wounded.
A dreadful
baptism of fire.
The day was
ours,
But the
cost?
Back to
Pearl,
Replacements,
supplies, repairs,
And a
needed leave.
“All hands
back on board.
Midway is
in peril.”
We know the
score,
We know the
cost,
We know we
must fight!
The air fills
of tension,
They’re
coming, we’re ready.
Despite our
efforts,
The battle
is shifting,
Scratch
three Jap flattops.
The victory
is short lived.
She takes
one in the stack.
The smell,
the carnage of,
diesel,
flesh and death.
Boilers
down,
Flight deck
smashed.
Fragments
of comrades stuck on bulkheads,
Planes
smoldering, ammunition exploding.
Chaos
should reign,
But calm
and resolve fill us.
“We will go
down fighting!”
The end is
near. The day is won,
But the
loss is high.
She was my
home,
She was my
piece of the war,
As the sun fades, the mighty lady,
succumbs to
the sea.
I salute her,
one final time.
Closing my
eyes for the final salute,
I join
the minds of my comrades,
submitting
my soul to God.
Goodbye.
Wallace
Russell.
RIP 5-12-2013
Jeff Dawson
@2013 LDDJ ENTERPRISES PUBLISHING
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