Sunday, June 8, 2014

Happy Birthday Dad, 1944









FDR concluded:
"Help us, Almighty God, to rededicate ourselves in renewed faith in Thee in this hour of great sacrifice..I ask that our people devote themselves in a continuance of prayer.
As we rise to each new day, and again when each day is spent, let words of prayer be on our lips, invoking Thy help to our efforts.
Give us strength...and, O Lord, give us Faith. Give us Faith in Thee...With Thy blessing, we shall prevail over the unholy forces of our enemy...
And a peace that will let all of men live in freedom, reaping the just rewards of their honest toil. Thy will be done, Almighty God. Amen."
If my dad had lived, he died in 2012, he would have been 86 years old today.  He just happened to have his birthday on D-Day, or was it D Day on his birthday.  But looking back to June 6, 1944, waking up that morning on his 16th birthday, little did he know what was going on, and how it would change the world.  A sophomore at Bangor High School, in Bangor, Pennsylvania, his yearbook that year would have sections listing those who were serving in WWII, those who planned to join up after graduation, and those killed in action.  With an unsure future ahead of him, the US of A was not winning the war at this point, he had two years until graduation, then decide whether to enlist like so many he knew in this town of 5000, or go to college.  Fortunately, by his next birthday, we had won a huge victory on D Day, and the war was over in Germany, May 8, 1945.  But still the specter of war hung over many because Japan had not fallen yet.  A lot to consider at 16 years of age.
In 1944 no cars had been built for almost two years.  Food was rationed, things like rubber tires, tin cans, and other things that could be recycled were for the war effort.  The US of A was just coming out of the Great Depression, and some thought the war helped, but many saw how war was hell on any front.  Men went off to fight in strange lands, and women took their jobs in the factories, with Rosie the Riveter being born.  As a nation we learned to sacrifice for the good of our country, and pray for it, as only God could intervene.  It is true that some on the enemy’s side too prayed, we both prayed for victory, ours was to restore peace, theirs to take it over.  Evil had shown in ugly head via Hitler, Mussolini, and Hirohito, and we were being led by a President who suffered from polio, and could barely walk.  Yet FDR’s fireside chats encouraged us to unite in one spirit, in one people, and as one nation.  And we did, and the outcome is well known.  We won! But not without heavy losses, both in the battle field, and at home.  We knew about the soldier’s loss, but what did those who stayed home at fought at the home front give up?
Bangor still resides in eastern Pennsylvania, in what is referred to as the Slate Belt.  Back when slate was used for chalkboards and roofs, t was quite prosperous, and when including the various mills for making clothing, and farming, was quite prosperous compared with today.  The mills are long gone, the slate long before that, with only empty slate quarries filled with water to remind them of a different time.  The mills empty, with graffiti, no one goes to Bangor anymore.  but in 1942, at the eve of our joining the war, from February, 1942 to April 1946 a local magazine was published, the only one of its kind during the war.  HOMEFRONT, the idea of J. Horace and his wife Mona Strunk.  Published from their home, it was sent free, a true glossy 8 1/2x11 magazine, not just mimeographed.  It was to encourage and inform their men at war about local news, letters from home, inspiration, and “the fairest of the month,” a local girl.  It is said that no one ever truly knew the impact it had on men far away from home, giving them a reminder of what they left behind, what they were fighting for, and an expectation of coming home after victory.  From 500 copies to eventually 8000, it brought the home front to the men and women over seas.  This was the time of my parents, and little did they know that in 1950 he would marry one Jeanne Murphy form neighboring Pen Argyl, who with her sister and others graced a cover.  My mother, a cover girl, and for what a cause. Just some girls from back home, sharing a Coke at the park, maybe there really was no place like home.  This was a war, like many others, fought by the young, laid out by the generals, and dictated by the Congress.  Many who never lived to reach old age, or even age 25.  Just like the many who stormed the beaches on my Dad’s 16th birthday.  And today we celebrate their effort, and their patriotism, and remember them in prayer, and the families and legacies they left behind.  One soldier even commenting how it made them all homesick, but couldn’t wait for each issue.  There is something about thinking of home, no matter where it is that draws us back.  So too all who served in WWII, and their families, a hearty word of thanks, and appreciation.  And to the Strunk’s, thanks for the memories, then and now.
Battles are fought on many levels, and we only see what is front of us, sometimes.  We get what the media feels we should get, and make our opinions from there.  And when times get tough, and the battles seem insurmountable, we turn to God.  “Where are you?  How could you let this happen?  What’s going on?”  Sometimes even losing hope, based on what we see, and don’t see.  But Jesus tells us different, that the things seen are temporal, the things not seen eternal.  And we often forget about a battle being fought right now in the heavenlies.  Where angels are fighting evil, and God has it all under control.  Where we only see the losing battles here, but cannot see the victories being won in heaven.  We fail to look to the cross, where the ultimate victory was won, and forget that in war we will not win every battle, but we do win the war.  That the final outcome is victory, and we will carry about those scars forever.  Which is why Jesus still shows His scars, to remind us of the horror of the war fought on the cross, and how His victory sets us free.  It is a reminder that in death we have victory, even though it eludes us here.  And a reminder that we are our brother’s keeper, that true love is laying down one’s life for his brother, and to seek Jesus first.  Those men on D Day knew they had a small chance to survive, saying goodbye maybe for the last time to the men around them.  But they fought for a cause, freedom, and proved once again that freedom isn’t free.  And that only the American soldier and Jesus were willing to die for that freedom, one for our lives, and one for the standard of living that god blessed our nation with.  And soon we will have only books and pictures left of these brave men, but Jesus lives forever.  He outlasts each and every generation, up to the last one, of which we may be part.  So as soldiers, it is important to remember where our home front is, and that we are fighting a battle in a war that has been won.  But the battle rages on....
We fight not against flesh and blood as the men in WWII did, but against evil in high places, evil spirits, and those angels cast down from heaven.  Take time to know that, and love your enemy.  But hate what he stands for.  Love the sinner, hate the sin.  Condemn no one, that is not your job.  Love and as you go, welcome others to the home front, and looking forward to hearing “well done my good and faithful servant.”  Every year I wonder what my Dad was thinking on that day, when I see him I will ask.  And like many others who make it to heaven, he will assure me that it was all worth it.  Only in Jesus.
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com