Here's one coincidence for you u/Joys1Daughter
More than a decade ago we were going through my mom's things after we moved her to a nursing home due to Alzheimer's. This "Letter to the Editor" of our local newspaper was found among her things, withered and yellowed written by my FIL. We asked her about it but the disease had taken that memory. As far as we are aware she never knew him until I met his daughter (my wife) after my seperation from the navy.
It was written "to the editor" by my now wife's father when he was stationed in the south pacific during WWII. Until the day he died (he died before mom did) I never heard him talk about the war but now understand the years of alcoholism.
So, R.I.P. Peter, you are missed.
TWO BUCKS A DAY
I'm full of damned malaria,
shake the whole day long,
the quinine's ringing in my ears,
I'm anything but strong;
Mosquito bites all over me,
You'd think I had "the itch,"
My ears are full of 'Guinea mud,
My bunk--a muddy ditch.
I'm living in a jungle,
It's hot as merry hell,
C rations is my menu,
No cooking can I smell.
For this I get two bucks a day,
And a chance for a little ground,
That measures four by six by four,
And a covered, grassy mound.
My pal who came down here with me—
The lad was just eighteen—
Got him a bed he'll never leave,
The coverlet is green.
Another one will see no more,
Another lost an arm,
And hundreds more I do not know
Are now safe from all harm.
But when I hear of a bunch of guys
Who're safe and far away,
Refuse to work because they want
Two dollars more a day—
I only wish I had them here
For just a week or two,
To live in 'Guinea jungles,
And there we'd let them stew.
We'd give them all malaria,
Let mosquitoes have a feast,
We'd make them bury many a lad
From North, West, South and East;
We'd make them sleep in foxholes,
We'd feed them from a can;
We'd let a hot sun blister them—
'Twould be no "Palm Beach tan."
We'd let them hear the wounded moan,
We'd let them see them die;
With snipers' bullets whizzing close
And star shells in the sky.
And then we'd send them home again,
To their 10 bucks every day;
To tell the others what they'd seen
Way down New Guinea way.
I'll bet this guy would have enough,
At home he'd gladly stay;
No strikes he'd start right soon again,
For "two bucks more a day."
He was the only military among 11 siblings.
I was the only military among 5 siblings.
Oh Bully thank you for sharing...💔
This is so powerful...he was an amazing writer. What a treasure to have discovered. We never truly understand what they endured unless they tell us and most Vets didn't want to talk about their experience.
God bless his Service and all of their Service. 🫡🙏🤍
I'm crying...
Hey, that's a fantastic writing you FIL did. When I was a boy we moved into a house where my mom had babysat the children of a soldier in Europe during g the war. O read about the man who had lived there in a book call company commander. He was written up in the book for capturing a bunch of Germans single handedly. His name was Hartwell York. There was another man named cliff Hammond, cliff was an alcoholic veteran who spent time as a Japanese pow. He would walk the railroad tracks every day stepping on the ties. My dad said he had worn chains that were about the same stepping length as the RR ties and that somehow he found comfort in that walking. Almost every Kid in my neighborhood had a gramps who had fought. One man herb pierce drove landing craft for the navy in the pacific. He k ew my grandfather because he met him when he hauled him ashore and discovered they were both from the same city in maine. They hadn't met before because my gramps was about 5 years older. We were steeped in the history of ww2 growing up.