Ted

Take time to listen.....you'll be glad you did.
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I saw my truck go by, so I stood up. When I did, he asked, "Is something wrong."

No I answered, I just saw my truck go into the bay that I had previously driven it into and was wondering, was it ready or were they just starting on it?

He moved over to sit beside me, so I sat back down.

One of my favorite lines from one of my favorite songs is, "all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be" so I'm really into life experiences.

He had already told me that his wife got a pacemaker in January, she had been ill in February so their son had come and insisted that she go to the emergency room. So she did, she had what they called "hospital pnneumonia". That 68 years skidded to a halt in 11 days. Damn, tough Thanksgiving.

But then, a few months earlier, his grandson....... He said that they propped him up with boards in the coffin. The only thing that didn't get crushed was his head.

Their daughter had moved in...to help. Was doing a great job, but.....she wasn't......her.

I stood up and took his hand, had it in my head to leave. They had said, "Mr. Manning, your truck is ready."

I wasn't going anywhere, Ted wanted to say something and I was going to be there for him.

Neither one of us knows anything about the word "committment". For different reasons.

He told me, "We lost more men at Omaha Beach in one day than we have during the Iraq Compaign." He teared up. We both wondered if there were enough in this country to load up those boats, knowing that the ones in the front were dead before the landing. He said they knew they were dead. Willing to sacrifice for their commrades in arms. We agreed that the soldiers we have now, no problem. But these were draftees, forced to be in that uniform. How many today would answer that call? How many would push their way to the front. To knowingly die without ever having a clue about the outcome.

He ended up as a tailgunner. Not an enviable position, laying on his belly in the rear of a B-17. His first stop after crawling in that gunner position was....Berlin. He said that the inside of that plane was well under zero F. The doors open for the other gunners. Not that there was heat, but the best place to be in that bird was in the cockpit, only because it was enclosed. They did what they had to do.

I apologized to the lady when I paid. I told her, anyone who doesn't have time to listen to a WWII vet, well.......I did and was glad I did. Fell in love with the man and I think he knew it, hope so.

Please, please, in all your doings this blessed holiday season...should you be priveledged and honored enough to have some old man have a word for you, I beg you to take a breath, look in to those knowing eyes and listen with all your heart. These people are responsible for me having the freedom to live the foolhardy life I have lived. He made it possible for me to have the kind of freedom that millions and millions of others would do anything to have. And all I did was to be lucky enough to be born here.

Thanks Ted, you are sooo much stronger than you can imagine. He thinks he is a broken man. There is nothing from Hell that could break you and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

"Maxine"

"He fought for our country, he's a part of our freedom."
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When they called, they said, "Show up, flags unfurled and we'll do the rest."
That's what we were told at our pre-ride meeting. The town of Wetumka, Ok just wanted us to show. And we did, I counted 60 bikes and at least that many cages.

This man, this young Okie. A co-pilot in a C-47 cargo plane had just made a drop. Much needed, desired, and appreciated supplies to our ground troops in Somewhere, New Guinea. I can see the pilot, banking a bit to give that wing wave to those happy guys scrambling toward the drop. It was a moment that they had to know was possible/probable in those days during WWII. I'm sure those rounds came up from everywhere and SSGT. Glenn Webb helped land that plane.....in history...and into our hearts.

He, as I said, was a Staff Sergeant, had his pilots license for about four months. I stood and listened to a reading of the hand written letter that his mom received from President Roosevelt. SSgt. Webb had turned 20 about 9 months before. Not bad, for a man so young.

The story is that locals went in, the next day and recovered the flight crew and buried them. When they returned, one was missing. Only after several decades had passed did the technology advance to where this man could be found and brought back to his beloved Oklahoma home.

When they asked us just to show up and help welcome him home, we did that. As we rode in, even though we were not in a procession really, just some guys riding into town, they still stopped. We were motioned through the stop signs and made the turns, en masse. No one made any attempt to break our ranks, as has happened on occasion.

This little Oklahoma town, half an hour from the interstate, was wrapping us up. When the procession DID begin, with Patriot Guard, Rolling Thunder and others mixed together, from Oklahoma, Kansas, Arkansas, Missouri, Texas and even Louisiana, well, this is the kicker. That little town, had apparently dismissed school and had obviously bought every little flag available. They were standing by the main road, rows of people from the tiny pre-k crowd up to the high school age with parents and other adults surrounding them, all waving these little American flags, many with hands over hearts. The whole town must have showed up, to show respect for a man who had died before most of them were born.

It was a beautiful sight to behold. Along with the rather large military showing, there was a native American honor guard, always a pleasure to stand with.
This was my ninth mission. They are all the same, but all very different. I couldn't allow myself to miss the homecoming of a man from the greatest generation that had been on the MIA/KIA list for 68 years. And I'm so glad I didn't miss the outpouring of appreciation and respect from the whole town.

As I've stated in the past, I take more from these than I give. And by the way, that C-47 was called "Maxine".