It's been a while. Some stuff has happened. Not much. Got my official SG hardcover book, it's quite cool. I really like reaind all the grrls reasons for joining. This is really is an amazing place and a beautiful website. Whenever I get bored I can go to the groups and forums, and waste countless hours.
In other news, father's day was good/bad as every day is. It was a lovely day, went to the grandparents and had spaghetti. Played some games, listened to some stories.
Grandpa was remembering being in Italy in 1943-44 and talking about it. Then suddenly he got a far off look and just said "I'm thinking of some things...Italy, remembering" And a big tear ran down his face. I've always found it beautiful when war veterans cry, because we really justify and idolize war in the society. There's something pure and honest in their emotions.
My grandpa served as an artillery commander in WWII, Korea, and trained men during duty in Vietnam. My grandmother was an Army Nurse, stationed in north africa, italy, and was trapped with the rest of the army during the Battle of the Bulge. They've both seen so much. As with most of their generation, as well as many older people, they are republican.
But I've never seen such anger and emotion as when they talk about their opposition to war. I think that is the deciding factor, I remember grandpa once talked to me about the war. He is pro Army, obviously. But anti war. "It's those goddamn people who haven't been to war who always want it so badly. After they've seen...what I've seen...There is no excuse for it" At that point he just sat there dry heaving, trying to remember how to cry. I asked him what it he was thought of about Italy, and he just turned away and very quietly and said "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to remember".
So I will leave you with a quote from a German officer in the Wermacht who faught in the Ardennes campaign, killed during the winter of 1944.
"Dear Mother,
War seems to be the one factor in life which is certain for us. I ask God why oh why must I fight this. We took a prisoner during patrol today. My God, I thought, he is but a boy. No older than 17. I am but a year older. He is not fit for this war. None of us are. I asked him, in the little English I know, what it was he was fighting for. His response struck me, "I don't know brother. Perhaps in another life I would be fighting for you, not with you". He seems a nice fellow. He reminds me of your youngest, Josef. I don't know what I am fighting for. These enemies of ours, if we laid down our rifles I would buy them a drink. I know if you met them, you would ask them to stya for dinner. What is this, when we fight those who we would love and embrace. I do not suppose I shall live through this war. I do not suppose he will either. Perhaps though one day long from now when we have left this foul place, we will meet again and join hands. I pray that God forgives me Mother, that I kill so many.I pray, but only bullets answer"
And a Russian conscript who fought in Stalingrad. Killed before completion of his letter home.
"Dear Mother
We took back the Volga yesterday, and have begun to sweep back the Germans from our beloved Stalingrad. I started out last month with 477 friends, cousins, comrades. I and 23 others stand today. So many friends lost, but then again we are all casualties in this war. I am lucky to be alive, and still in one working piece. My God Mother, what I have seen. Our generals and fearless leader, he led us to believe that the enemy were all shadowy barbaric murderers. They are simple folk like you and I. Teytov spoke to a prisoner today. My God, my God, he was the same age as I, he too grew up on his family's farm. This man isn't my enemy, he is my brother. His uniform is different, but we are kin. He fights for his country, as do I. He told us his father was killed in France not too long ago, and that he is the only son left. This man, this brother of mine. If this war ceased, we would be glad neighbors. So much death surrounds me Mother. I see friends cut down by artillery and sniper fire. Each of them with a rich and lovely life story to tell, suddenly closed. I cry for them, and for my so called enemies. How many of us have to die. I wonder if you will recognize me when I return. I wonder if, when I die, God will recognize me. I wonder if he will know who I am. One day I will meet all of those I have killed, and I will ask for their forgiveness. I will ask-"
I've always liked reading letters from soldiers, there is something beautiful and tragic about them. Philosophy is everyone's fortay on the battlefield. And they all seem to point towards the idea that, perhaps the greatest tragedy of all isn't war itself, but the lessons which no one learns.
In other news, father's day was good/bad as every day is. It was a lovely day, went to the grandparents and had spaghetti. Played some games, listened to some stories.
Grandpa was remembering being in Italy in 1943-44 and talking about it. Then suddenly he got a far off look and just said "I'm thinking of some things...Italy, remembering" And a big tear ran down his face. I've always found it beautiful when war veterans cry, because we really justify and idolize war in the society. There's something pure and honest in their emotions.
My grandpa served as an artillery commander in WWII, Korea, and trained men during duty in Vietnam. My grandmother was an Army Nurse, stationed in north africa, italy, and was trapped with the rest of the army during the Battle of the Bulge. They've both seen so much. As with most of their generation, as well as many older people, they are republican.
But I've never seen such anger and emotion as when they talk about their opposition to war. I think that is the deciding factor, I remember grandpa once talked to me about the war. He is pro Army, obviously. But anti war. "It's those goddamn people who haven't been to war who always want it so badly. After they've seen...what I've seen...There is no excuse for it" At that point he just sat there dry heaving, trying to remember how to cry. I asked him what it he was thought of about Italy, and he just turned away and very quietly and said "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to remember".
So I will leave you with a quote from a German officer in the Wermacht who faught in the Ardennes campaign, killed during the winter of 1944.
"Dear Mother,
War seems to be the one factor in life which is certain for us. I ask God why oh why must I fight this. We took a prisoner during patrol today. My God, I thought, he is but a boy. No older than 17. I am but a year older. He is not fit for this war. None of us are. I asked him, in the little English I know, what it was he was fighting for. His response struck me, "I don't know brother. Perhaps in another life I would be fighting for you, not with you". He seems a nice fellow. He reminds me of your youngest, Josef. I don't know what I am fighting for. These enemies of ours, if we laid down our rifles I would buy them a drink. I know if you met them, you would ask them to stya for dinner. What is this, when we fight those who we would love and embrace. I do not suppose I shall live through this war. I do not suppose he will either. Perhaps though one day long from now when we have left this foul place, we will meet again and join hands. I pray that God forgives me Mother, that I kill so many.I pray, but only bullets answer"
And a Russian conscript who fought in Stalingrad. Killed before completion of his letter home.
"Dear Mother
We took back the Volga yesterday, and have begun to sweep back the Germans from our beloved Stalingrad. I started out last month with 477 friends, cousins, comrades. I and 23 others stand today. So many friends lost, but then again we are all casualties in this war. I am lucky to be alive, and still in one working piece. My God Mother, what I have seen. Our generals and fearless leader, he led us to believe that the enemy were all shadowy barbaric murderers. They are simple folk like you and I. Teytov spoke to a prisoner today. My God, my God, he was the same age as I, he too grew up on his family's farm. This man isn't my enemy, he is my brother. His uniform is different, but we are kin. He fights for his country, as do I. He told us his father was killed in France not too long ago, and that he is the only son left. This man, this brother of mine. If this war ceased, we would be glad neighbors. So much death surrounds me Mother. I see friends cut down by artillery and sniper fire. Each of them with a rich and lovely life story to tell, suddenly closed. I cry for them, and for my so called enemies. How many of us have to die. I wonder if you will recognize me when I return. I wonder if, when I die, God will recognize me. I wonder if he will know who I am. One day I will meet all of those I have killed, and I will ask for their forgiveness. I will ask-"
I've always liked reading letters from soldiers, there is something beautiful and tragic about them. Philosophy is everyone's fortay on the battlefield. And they all seem to point towards the idea that, perhaps the greatest tragedy of all isn't war itself, but the lessons which no one learns.
i'm endlessly fascinated with ww2. those are some very intense letters. thanks for posting.