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My father, who served in the army during WWII, often spoke fondly of his time in service.
But, he never was in battle. He had volunteered for the army in 1940, before the institution of the draft. Because he volunteered, he was given a choice of assignments after completing basic training.
He chose to go to school to train as a postmaster for the army. My father was taught to type and also learned basic bookkeeping skills. He spent about 3 years at various bases in the US as a postmaster. Then, he was assigned to a combat unit as its postmaster. He was sent to Europe in 1943 and was stationed on a US military base near Manchester, in the UK.
So, he spent the war years sitting behind a desk. During his time in the UK, he developed a fondness for drinking tea, which lasted throughout the rest of his life.
And, because of his typing skills, he often typed school assignments for my sister and me, before each of us learned how to type.
Galaxyhi's thread about fathers' vocations made me think of this topic.
Back in the late 50's my dad and my uncles would often sit around talking about their WWII experiences. They were all enlisted in the Navy, on LST ships. One uncle was at Normandy, but my father and closest uncle were both stationed in the South Pacific. Recently my dad brought up a story I'd long forgotten about: his ship being anchored near Taiwan when there was a huge monsoon going on, and how they were told to pull up anchor and how rough and high the waves were after they put back out to sea. He said even on a ship that big, it was still pretty scary.
The main story I remember is my uncle talking about being on watch up in the tower (guys help me out with the correct term). Dawn was breaking and suddenly he saw a kamikaze plane coming straight for his ship. He was 23 years old. He stood there thinking, "ok, this is the day I'm going to die." And he waited. Suddenly there was a pop-pop-pop-pop-pop from the gunner. Then all was quiet. The gunner had downed the kamikaze plane.
We used to protest "not ANOTHER war story!" We'd heard the stories dozens of times. After all, it had been only 10-15 years since they happened, but as kids we didn't realize that at the time. Now, I wish I could remember the stories better. I always had respect for their experiences, but now even more so.
What these men went through (and other men in other wars), is truly remarkable. It changed them forever. I wouldn't say my dad and uncles had PTSD, but they were fairly well consumed by their experiences. When I talk to my dad again, I'm going to have him tell me some stories, and keep notes.
I'm sure there are lots of good (and bad) stories from others here.
My Dad was in WW1, infantry in France. Even tho I served in the Army after the Korean war, we never talked about our experience. My one regret in life.
My dad was a trooper in the Royal Tank Regiment and drove a Lease-Lend Mack truck with the white star on the doors off a landing craft onto the Normandy beaches.
The only two things he ever spoke about, (to me), was that the Americans had better food than the Brits, and that while searching for cognac he went into a bar near Caen that had had the doors blown in and three Canadians already in there couldn’t decipher his London accent and “captured†him.
He was released next day.
The only other time he spoke about the war was when my son married a German girl in the German city where my son had been stationed.
My dad came to the wedding and naturally so did the bride’s father, it materialised that the bride’s father had served in Normandy in the Wehrmacht and my daughter-in-law interpreted for them both while they discussed how fortunate it was that they didn’t meet in Normandy or there might have been no wedding.
My Dad was in the Army 6 years. 3 or 4 in the Pacific then Germany for Occupation. He never said much about it to us kids just went to the VFW pretty often to be around War buddies. One of his friends, who would later become a doctor, delivered all 6 of us from what I remember hearing.
Had a guy at work who landed at Normandy on 'D' Day. Several wanted to know what he did that day. "Well, the first thing I did was ---- my pants. Then I climbed as far up into that helmet as I could get."
My father was in the Navy in WWII - he was stationed in Alaska as a mechanic. He kept the electrical equipment in good working order. He came back from the war hating cold weather.
He enlisted on his 18th birthday (1944) and was very proud of his service.
The more emotionally scarring the experience, the less they want to talk about it. But everyone's different and some people really need to talk.
The men they'd most likely talk to are men who already know the conversation...so no words are necessary, just presence.
I come from a family of solidly military careerists since the Spanish-American war. Great-grandfather, grandfather, uncles, cousins...all were military, and the women all married soldiers.
That caused me to be unaware of the distinct difference between them and soldiers who left the military immediately after serving their time in war. All the combat veterans I knew--both in the family and during my career--had remained close to people who knew what they went through or were thoroughly sympathetic and supportive. Certainly, they had their PTSD issues too, but they were also within a web of support that those who immediately left service didn't have.
I think I'd been in the military about a decade myself before that difference really sunk home in my brain.
I also think a genuine problem today is that soldiers are often whisked within a day or two from active combat to walking through the front doors of their homes. In times past, there would have been weeks of decompression during the trip between combat and home.
I remember in history class the text books went up to and including WWII. But for some reason we never got to that last chapter at the end of the school year. The teachers assumed we knew that stuff. They had been around for it but we hadn't been born yet.
I do remember a lot of WWII movies on TV.
That's so true about the textbooks never getting to WWII. I noticed that too. We never learned anything about it because they thought we already knew.
Most of my uncles went to war but for my dad I have no war story to tell! He was ready and willing. When he went to get his shots he passed out from one of them. Fell right on the floor, very embarrassing. They told him they'd call him when they needed him. But they never called except to assign him to train people to ride horses or something and to go out during blackouts to make sure everyone was adhering to the rules. He was a very healthy and athletic man, coached school sports, and no one knows what made him fall right over from getting his shots.
Mine didn't tell war stories.
It was a common experience for all of my uncles and my dad and most men of that age that I knew. There was no one to tell them to. For some it was not an experience they were particularly happy to share.
I know my dad was at the Battle of the Bulge and in Berlin as the Russians pulled back. He had a few photos. I have all of his war letters, but the letters were always censored so he didn't share experiences in them. He was a paratrooper and in the Glider Infantry. Years later he flew in a commercial airplane and remarked that that was the first time he ever actually landed in one (a plane). He landed in gliders, but they crashed as often as not. He had a few Army buddies that he would visit with when they passed through town. One was a major league baseball player so he would always go to the games and straggle in very late. I'm sure they were remembering old times.
My dad and uncles only talked about things that were humorous, never serious.
My dad was in before and during the war. He was supposed to get out in January of 42 but so much for that.
I found his diary from that time after he died. The last line for every single day was "the food is terrible."
My uncle lost his leg at Anzio. After my dad came home, he took him to the VA hospital a few times. My dad told me if I ever took him to a VA hospital he would come back and haunt me.
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