FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 53 YEARS, THE KNICKS ARE NBA CHAMPIONS ๐
New York defeats San Antonio 4-1 in the NBA Finals, capturing their third championship in franchise history!
Private Carlton Barrett was possibly the smallest man in his regiment.
5 feet 4 inches tall. 125 pounds.
On the morning of June 6, 1944, he landed at Omaha Beach in neck-deep water, machine gun fire cutting the surface all around him. He made it to shore.
Then he turned around and went back in.
A soldier was drowning. Barrett pulled him out. Then another. Then another. For hours, under constant fire, this 125-pound man waded back into the surf again and again, pulling drowning men to safety and physically carrying the wounded to evacuation boats offshore.
But he didn't stop there.
He ran dispatches the full length of the fire-swept beach. He found soldiers paralyzed by shock and calmed them back into action. He appeared wherever the crisis was worst, doing whatever needed doing, treating rank and personal safety as irrelevant details.
He did this for hours without stopping.
His Medal of Honor citation says his courage had "an inestimable effect on his comrades." That is military understatement for: this small, anonymous man held that section of beach together through sheer force of will.
He survived the war.
His comrades later said his life darkened after he came home. He lived quietly and died in 1986 in California, largely unknown outside of military history circles.
5 feet 4 inches. 125 pounds. He went back in.
Remember him.
June 5, 1944. 3:30am.
Eisenhower woke to howling wind and hard rain. At 4:15am, in a water-soaked tent, his meteorologist James Stagg told him: there's a 24-hour break in the storm coming. One window. Miss it, and the next date is June 19.
He had 5,000 ships and 160,000 men already moving toward France.
He said: "OK. Let's go."
That evening at 8:30pm, he drove to Greenham Common to stand among the paratroopers of the 101st Airborne. He had just been privately briefed they could expect 80% casualties. He didn't show it. He walked through the crowd, shaking hands, asking names, asking where men were from.
One soldier, Lt. Wallace Strobel, said Michigan.
Eisenhower smiled. "Oh, Michigan. I used to fish there. Great fishing in Michigan."
Witnesses said his eyes were wet when he got back in the car.
That night, alone, he wrote four sentences and stuffed the paper in his pocket:
"Our landings have failed to gain a satisfactory foothold and I have withdrawn the troops. My decision to attack at this time and place was based upon the best information available. The troops, the air and the Navy did all that Bravery and devotion to duty could do. If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt it is mine alone."
He misdated it "July 5." His mind was somewhere else.
Meanwhile, across the Channel, Field Marshal Rommel was in his staff car rolling through Germany toward home. His wife Lucie was turning 50 tomorrow. He had brought her a pair of shoes from Paris.
The Germans had no Atlantic weather stations. Their meteorologists had told high command: no invasion is possible in this weather. Rommel genuinely believed they had weeks.
The paratroopers jumped at midnight.
82 years ago today, nearly 160,000 Allied troops stormed the beaches of Normandy on D-Day, launching the liberation of Europe.
We are free because they were brave. ๐บ๐ธ
Less than a year ago, the Air Force unveiled a new PT test with a two mile run. Airmen took to social media to complain how the new increased length would cause injuries.
This weekend, an Air Force Colonel, more than likely in their mid to late 40s, ran 5 miles up a mountain to escape the enemy.
Running matters. You should do more of it.
Today, on Easter, a family gets to rest easy knowing that their airman is coming home. People join the military for a lot of reasons. Knowing someone has your back is a huge one for many. The military will move heaven and earth to come get you when youโre on our team.
Happy Easter.