My Uncle Bob (Robert J Russell) was a WWII vet. There were many times he would become too emotional to talk about his experiences in the war. He always told me he used his brother’s birth certificate to enlist before he was old enough, which meant a 16-year-old went off to war. Bob spoke of his many hours on KP duty; however, it was the Normandy invasion he found hardest to speak on. He told me he was in the fifth wave and received an injury from a grenade blast.
He had a steel plate in his head and a reconstructed nose. I remember wincing, watching him hit his nose with a screwdriver. It was all plastic, so he didn’t feel anything, but the act held immense effectiveness in showing what he had been through. He spent 18 months in the hospital following the incident.
One thing that always touched me was when I sent him a veterans day card, and he said it was the first time anyone had ever acknowledged him personally on Veterans Day. I wish he was still alive to know he’s being honored today.
My Grandpa Denver W Abshire, Sr. was also a WWII veteran. In my mind, I can still hear my Grandma Marie telling me how Grandpa couldn’t stand fireworks after the war, how he would fall to the ground and cover his head.
My Grandpa lived in Ohio, and I remember him taking me to Lake Erie. He told of his war days as we stood and watched the magnificent lake. Even after all these years, Grandpa still had tears in his eyes at the retelling.
The thing that has stuck with me all these years is when he told me that during the war, you finally got until you shot every cow you saw because the enemy would hide behind them; how you couldn’t trust women or children because they would run at you with grenades. My Grandpa was injured in the battle of the bulge. He took a 50 caliber to the shoulder while rescuing a downed comrade. His medals are among my most prized possessions, and my Grandpa will always be my number one hero.
