Last night, I listened to my daughter interview my step-father about his experiences during World War II.
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She has studied the “Last Good War” in her U.S. History class. She understood the conflict in abstraction, but had no concept of its human dimensions.
Her two-hour tape-recorded conversation with Norm brought this great heritage alive for her. She learned that the global conflict was more than a collection of pitched battles and inspirational speeches.
In listening to Norm’s personal story about war, patriotism and survival, she understood the role of personal sacrifice for the greater good.
Norm’s story also was an epiphany for me.
Like my own father, Norm led men into battle.
While my father was hacking out airstrips in the steaming jungles of the Pacific Theater, Norm was flying bombing missions over Germany.
After 31 sorties in the co-pilot’s seat of a B-24 Liberator, Norm thought his tour of duty was over. His mother was expecting him home, and the love of his life – my mother – was waiting.
Homecoming Sadly Delayed
Instead of sending him home, the Army Air Corps dispatched Norm on another mission.
Norm and his 9 crewmates on the plane dubbed “Slightly Dangerous,” were shot down. The 29-year-old pilot, affectionately known as Pappy, along with two other crewmen were killed. The rest became prisoners of prisoners of war.
When Norm was liberated by Gen. Patton’s Third Army, he was not yet 21 years old.
Norm and my dad grew up during the wrenching days of the Great Depression. They learned the lessons about loss and sacrifice at an early age.
[img]551|left|||no_popup[/img] In spite of the dark times in which they were raised, they loved their country. They believed in America, and they were willing to put their lives on the line to fight for our way of life.
In their quest to fight evil, my father and Norm left behind families, their sweethearts and the comfort of clean sheets. They missed the proms, parties and promise of youth to face the bullets of oppression.
Norm was a strapping 175 pounds of sass and vinegar when he went off to war. He was a gaunt 130 pounds when he was finally liberated from Stalag Luft 3.
The Difference Is Altitude of Attitude
When Norm and others of his generation returned from war, they had a single-minded purpose. They were hungry to build an America that was strong – an America that could lead the world by example.
They did it.
On their backs, America became the envy of the planet. There was nothing we couldn’t do if we put our minds to it. We stood tall when others fell.
Now we’ve let them down.
We’ve lost our unique can-do spirit. We’ve become a nation of whiners looking for government, or someone like government, to save our butts. Instead of building the greatest machines on earth, we’ve become global butlers.
Men like Norm and my father made their sacrifices because they believed in something greater than themselves … America.
E pluribus unum – “out of many, one” – was more than just a slogan on the Seal of the United States. It was their anthem.
In their memories, and in their names, we can and we must do better.
It won’t be easy, but all of us must pull together.
If making a better, stronger America from the ashes of this economic crisis requires sacrifice, tell me when, tell me where, and I’m on board.
It’s time we stopped bellyaching and worrying about whether we’ll be able to survive as a people when American television makes the final switch from analog to digital signal later this week.
It’s time to start thinking about the American legacy and our place in world fraught with growing uncertainty.
It’s time to roll up our sleeves and get down to business.
To honor their sacrifice, we genuinely owe them more.
John Cohn is a senior partner in the Globe West Financial Group, based in West Los Angeles. He may be contacted at www.globewestfinancial.com
