Memorial Day always makes me think of my grandfather Lester Bricker. He was drafted in December 1942 shortly after WWII began, forcing him to leave his pregnant wife behind. That year as well as several others, he missed celebrating Christmas with his family. Granddad was a POW and MIA for 19 months. Although he didn’t willingly join the Army he proudly served. Granddad was as proud to be a veteran as he was to be an American. He never really talked about his time during the war. He did tell me a little about the year and a half he was a POW in Germany. During that time he was in a concentration camp. In the beginning he was held captive and not treated very well. Once the German’s found out he was a farmer, things got a little better. He worked on the farm with the women who had taken over when the German men went to war. That was the only thing he liked about the war, farming with the Fraulein (froy-line.) When he talked about that part of the war he always had a smile on his face. Another story he often shared was about a man he knew who got shot. The bullet hit him in his left pocket right over his heart. The man was never injured because in that pocket he kept his Bible. Granddad was among the lucky ones. He only suffered a busted ear drum during his time at war. Granddad didn’t return home until 1945.
The minor injury he suffered during the war later contributed to him falling off of the church roof. That fall caused him to become a paraplegic at the age of 40. Ironically that day was Veteran’s Day. Even though he went through so many struggles during and after the war Granddad was still proud to be an American, a soldier, and Veteran. It’s sad to say but I think that kind of pride is dying right along with those who served in the Great War.
♥Kel
