Posted by
oldscout on Sunday, November 04, 2007 6:18:47 PM
THANK YOU COLONEL
TIBBETS
They are all gone now, except the youngest, my Uncle Bobby. The last of my own greatest generation.
Dad was in the Coast Guard, considered too old for active
Navy duty. Uncle Roy was in the Navy, as
was his brother Wally. Their youngest
brother, Bobby, was a Marine pilot. He
had begun flying at fourteen, using the money from the job my Dad got him at a
drug store to pay for his flying lessons.
Sneaking off to Palwaukee airport outside Chicago,
where a sympathetic World War One veteran gave a young boy a chance to learn to
soar with the eagles.
Wally and Roy served on aircraft carriers, with the hope
they could watch out for their younger brother.
But Bobby flew off fixed bases in the Pacific, flying the top line F4U Vought
Corsair. What Wally and Roy wound up
watching were Kamikaze pilots trying their damnedest to kill them. Uncle Roy had back problems the rest of his
life from one of those pilots.
Dad went first, while I was still in High School. Uncle Wally was next, a few years after
Dad. Uncle Roy held on until after I was
married, and had transferred away from Chicago. But I went back, with my then small children,
for his services. Two of my nephews blew
taps at the cemetery. It was the first
time I remember my retired career Marine Uncle Bobby crying. He is in North Carolina
now, still playing his beloved golf, and still referring to my Aunt Helen as his
bride.
Gone too is my oldest cousin, Bob. He landed at Utah
Beach on D Day. Temporarily blinded by an artillery shell air
burst, he returned to the front after only a few days of recovery. He lost a leg in France. His oldest son gave the eulogy. Until he spoke, most of the family never knew
about the medals for valor Bob received.
Like my other family members, he never talked much about the war.
I hear a lot of discussion about the use of the atomic bomb
on Hiroshima, and the second bomb dropped three days later on Nagasaki. It seems many historians, commentators, and
pundits are still discussing the use of these weapons. Serious debates about the need for their
employment, the moral implications, and the precedents set. Speculation, coupled with revisionist
history, seem to make this an academic issue, open to many interpretations. However, to me, it is not academic. It is very personal.
You see, all of my family survived World War Two. Unlike 405,399 other American families, mine
never received that dreaded visit from the Western Union
man, bearing a telegram that started “We regret to inform you”. One limb lost, burns, scars and shed blood
were all felt deeply, but at least they came back. But that could have been very different.
An invasion of Japan
would have resulted in an estimated one million American casualties,
over a third of whom would have been killed.
Based on the experience of Okinawa, up to twenty
million more Japanese civilians would have died. Would my Uncle Bobby, Uncle Roy and Uncle
Wally have survived? Cousin Bob would
have been here, as he had already been discharged with the loss of his
leg. Dad too, would have survived, as he
was never called to combat duty. But of
the others, I understandably can’t say.
But I can say that ending the war without an invasion of Japan
insured that those who were still alive would remain so. Because the war ended
when it did, I grew up with an Uncle Roy, Uncle Wally, and Uncle Bobby. And because the war ended when it did,
350,000 other American families welcomed back their sons, brothers, fathers and
uncles. And twenty million Japanese survived
to rebuild both their country, and their society.
Colonel Paul Tibbets passed away this week. He piloted the Enola Gay, the B-29 that
dropped the bomb on Hiroshima that,
together with the bombing of Nagasaki,
finally ended World War II. We flew the
American flag at half staff at my house, not to commemorate a bomb, but to say
thank you to Col. Tibbets on behalf of my family.
Thank you, Colonel Tibbets for completing the mission that
you knew would affect the rest of your life.
Thank you, Colonel, for making the right decision.