FDR’s D-Day prayer, June 6, 1944:
“Last night, when I spoke with you about the fall of Rome, I knew at that moment that troops of the U.S. & our allies were crossing the Channel in another and greater operation. It has come to pass with success thus far…
This day have set upon a mighty endeavor, a struggle to preserve our Republic, our religion, and our civilization, and to set free a suffering humanity.”
One of the coolest things I’ve learned at Normandy is about Lt. Col. Robert “Bull” Wolverton, commander of 3rd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division, who said to his men before their jump 🪂:
Men, I am not a religious man and I don't know your feelings in this matter, but I am going to ask you to pray with me for the success of the mission before us.
And while we pray, let us get on our knees and not look down but up with faces raised to the sky so that we can see God and ask his blessing in what we are about to do.
God almighty, in a few short hours we will be in battle with the enemy.
We do not join the battle afraid.
We do not ask favors or indulgence but ask that, if You will, use us as your instrument for the right and an aid in returning peace to the world.
We do not know or seek what our fate will be.
We ask only this, that if die we must, that we die as men would die, without complaining, without pleading and safe in the feeling that we have done our best for what we believed was right.
Oh Lord, protect our loved ones and be near us in the fire ahead and with us now as we pray to you.
#LestWeForget
At an American baseball game, a stranger will throw his arms around you the instant your side scores.
I did not know this. So when the ball sailed over the wall and the man beside me seized me in both arms and lifted me off my feet, I understood only one thing.
We had sworn an oath.
In my country, men embrace like this once, perhaps, in a lifetime, on a battlefield, agreeing to die for the same lord. This man had done it over a ball, with mustard on his shirt, and he did not even know my name.
But an embrace is an embrace. The oath was struck. We were now brothers, bound to the same banner, whatever banner that was.
A lesser man would have stepped back.
I did not.
I turned to him with the full weight of what we had become. "I will not forget this," I said. He shouted "LET'S GOOOO" directly into my face, which I took as the war cry of our new house.
Then our side scored again.
He seized me again, tighter, both arms, my feet leaving the ground a second time. So now we had bled together twice. The bond deepened with every run. By the fourth, he was pouring half his beer in my general direction, an honor I did not understand but accepted with grace.
I began to worry. A man can only swear so many oaths before he must choose which to honor with his life.
By the seventh, the entire section was on its feet, every stranger gripping every other stranger, a hundred sudden brothers roaring as one, and I stood among them, sworn now to all of it, every man in that row, the children, the man selling peanuts, the entire third base line.
A lesser man would have been crushed by so many vows.
I have decided I am simply blessed with the largest family in America, and when the final run crossed and we all embraced as one, weeping strangers under the lights, I held them, every one, and meant it.
My brother in the mustard shirt left without a word when it ended. He did not say goodbye. He did not need to.
We will never speak again.
But if his lord ever calls, I will come.
We used to keep our horses at a farm owned by an old WWII veteran. My dad knew him from the bar he frequented. This man was in the Battle of the Coral Sea, the Battle of Midway, and many others. He was a Navy pilot and flew dive bombers off of the Aircraft Carriers Yorktown and Intrepid. During the war he was shot down over the Pacific 4 times! Most people that know me also know I read a lot of history. Well for me that started at a very young age. When I was in 3rd grade they would take us down to the library and let us checkout books. One of the very first books I read from these excursions was about Pearl Harbor and then one about Midway. One Saturday afternoon I was at the bar with my dad. He would "stop off" for a few cold ones and I would play pool or whatever till he was ready to go. This time he sat me on the stool next to him and introduced me to Ben. He told me, while making the introduction, that Ben flew planes in WWII. I asked him, "What kind did you fly?" and like most combat vets he was kinda hesitant to talk, but he said, "dive bombers". I piped right up and asked him, "did you fly the Douglas SBD Dauntless?"..... He did a double take, his eyes got wide and a huge smile came across his face, he about fell off his stool! He couldn't believe this 8 year old kid in 1978 knew what kinda dive bomber that he had flown into combat some 36 years on! It made his day! We sat there and chatted about planes and the war for quite sometime. He even invited me to come to his house the next time we were out feeding the horses. That day I made a buddy and I got to chat with Ben many times after that. He was always glad to see me. I did get to go to his house on another day and see all his memorabilia. He had retired from the Navy as a Captain. I don't remember all the medals he had won but there were a bunch. (recently I looked into his service and found that he was awarded the Navy Cross three times! And the Distinguished Flying Cross twice! Durring the Battle of the Philippine Sea he dropped his bomb load directly on a Japanese Battleship) After he passed they built a new Elementary School in my home town and named it after him. It sits on land that was his family farm. I guess I'm sharing this because now as a vet more than 30 years since my combat days. I realize more fully how it must have made him feel, that a young boy was interested, hell enthralled, by his service and his exploits. If you get a chance don't miss an opportunity to hear their stories. Pretty soon they will all be gone....
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