In my fifties now, I often reflect on growing up, and the people that formed my life. The person that played the largest role was, of course, my own father. To think of it, the fathers of all my buddies were involved. The main thing these guys seem to have in common is that they were all Veterans of WWII, and heroes of the big war.
I went to Florida, a place filled of elderly people, last week, and went out to eat with a WWII Veteran in his eighties. I could not help but feel overjoyed in meeting this guy. All the WWII Veterans in my life have now passed on, and I sure miss these people! As children, my buddies and I would listen with excitement when these guys would tell war stories from their chairs on the porch of their homes. They would have the full attention of all the boys in the neighborhood.
Their stories true or not, these people were true heroes in our eyes, let alone being able to call them our fathers. My best friends and I were never in the Amy or Navy, but we all had interest in weapons and the big war. It wasn’t until we were grown and learned WWII history that we would come to realize that most, if not all, of the stories we heard where true. Later in life, we learned that all the history and facts lined up with the stories we were told; therefore, I can’t but believe in the stories we grew up with.
My own hero, my dad was in the Navy. At the time, I remember him saying that he thought he returned home on the same ship as then President Jimmy Carter. Later I learned in school that the ship President Carter was on was the same one my dad came home on. My dad talked of dismantling the Iceland station, later learning what an important part the Iceland station played in the war.
My buddy Joe’s dad was in the Army, and he collected lots of memorabilia, including guns. He would tell of fighting the Germans, and had the stuff to prove it. After his dad died and Joe’s own life was not going so well, Joe came across this photo his dad had taken. It said on the back of it, “American officer and the capture of Goering.” Knowing WWII history and the stories we were told, we knew who Goering was. So I looked it up on the internet, and sure enough the internet blog matched the photo to a tee!
Here is part of the Blog I found:
“Goering was not as fat as the cartoons made him although he was very corpulent. He was perfectly healthy and his own people, the Luftwaffe, liked him very much. I am not a doctor but I could not recognize any signs that he was under the influence of drugs, nor of drug addiction. He was sober.
Goering seemed to have no idea that he would be considered a "war criminal." When I dismissed him after this talk and told him to be ready to leave in half an hour, he said to my Sergeant-Interpreter, "Ask General Stack if I should wear a pistol or my ceremonial dagger when I appear before General Eisenhower." I knew he would never see the Allied Commander so I said, "Das ist mir ganz wurst." Literally this means, "that’s goose liver bologna to me" but it is German slang for "I don’t give a damn." As this was the first Goering knew I spoke German, he was a bit surprised and startled.
When we started back for the American lines, I took only Goering, General von Epp, Colonel Fegelein and the Adjutant, leaving the rest of the party and the Florian Geyer Division in charge of the half platoon of the Rcn. Tr. I took Fegelein and the Adjutant because they might make trouble for the lieutenant. I had no difficulty being recognized at the American lines but the S.S. Adjutant went nuts and attempted to escape. One of the drivers killed him.
36th Division Headquarters had moved forward and was located in the Grand Hotel in Kitzbuhel where I turned Goering over to the Division Commander, General Dahlquist. After another interrogation and lunch, Goering was sent by Cub plane to Headquarters Seventh Army, then in Augsburg. We had doubts he would fit in the miniature plane but we stuffed him in.”
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