A 90 year-old WW2 vet moved me to tears yesterday, and I'm so glad he did! [View all]

[ColesCountyDem]

These past 16 months have been very hard ones for me, what with my job having been outsourced to Bangladesh, suffering a major health crisis, federal extended unemployment benefits running out, using the remainder of my 401(k) for living expenses and facing probable eviction in the near future. Despite those things, I remain an optimist. I also remain deeply involved in my church, which is how I encountered 90 year-old Mr. Reynolds and his family yesterday. Our church hosts an annual Community Thanksgiving dinner, and I was one of the cooks and servers.

I noticed Mr. Reynolds as he came through the serving line with his (as I was learn later) two sons, two daughters-in-law, five grandchildren and 2 great-grandchildren. We exchanged pleasantries as I served him turkey, ham and dressing, and one by one, he and his family proceeded through the serving line and took their places at a table. During one of the periodic lulls that always follow the initial 'rush' in the serving line, I was idly looking out on the crowd seated in the fellowship hall and happened to notice Mr. Reynolds engaged in a rather animated conversation with one of our older church members who was seated across the table from him. As they conversed, I noticed my fellow congregant point at me a few times, but didn't think much of it, at the time.

People began coming through the serving line for 'seconds', and I was once again focused on doing my job and making small talk with various diners. I'd just finished serving one person when the next person in line turned out to be Mr. Reynolds, no plate in hand. As I reached for a fresh plate, he shook his head 'no and asked, "May I speak with you privately for a moment, if it's not a bother?". It wasn't a 'bother' at all, because there was plenty of help in the kitchen, so I asked a friend to take my place for a moment. I indicated that I'd be in the small foyer off of the kitchen, as soon as I washed my hands, and Mr. Reynolds smiled and said 'That'll be just fine".

Entering the foyer a minute or so later, there stood a smiling Mr. Reynolds, hand extended. He introduced himself, and I did the same, and he then asked me, "Who were your grandparents?". As I told him, I saw him give a slight nod, smile broadly, give my hand a very firm squeeze and my shoulder a friendly pat. He could see the puzzled look on my face and, laughing softly, said, "I bet you're wondering 'Who is this old geezer, and what does he want?' ". What he said next is what brought me to tears...

"You had an uncle, Ralph, who was shot down over Germany in WW2, didn't you? A P-51 pilot flying as part of a fighter escort for a B-24 bombing mission over Leipheim, correct?". I nodded, and he smiled again and shook my hand HARD this time. "Bob", he said, "I was the pilot of one of those B-24's, and we'd been pretty well banged up by flack over the target area, and my co-pilot and I were trying our best to get our crippled bird back to England. Out of our two o'clock, we spotted four Messerschmitts coming in to finish the job the flack had started, and things looked about as bad as they could get. Suddenly, a P-51 appeared, machine guns blazing, and the dogfight was on. That P-51 pilot got three of them and damaged the fourth badly enough that he hightailed it out of there, but the P-51 was pretty badly shot up himself and, well, he crashed.

When we did somehow manage to get back to England, I made inquiries about that P-51 pilot, because I wanted to know who that brave S.O.B. was! I eventually found out his name and hometown, and then who his parents were-- your grandparents. I wrote them a letter, but some way or another, I just never made it here to meet them or any of your family, and to thank them properly, in person. We're all traveling to a family reunion in Kansas this weekend, and we stopped here for the night last night. I knew this was the town where your uncle was from and I read in the morning paper that there was this dinner today, and remembered from the memorial folder your grandfather had sent me in '46 that this was the church where his memorial service was held, so I talked the kids into coming here, hoping I could finally meet some of the family. That nice lady we were sitting with told me that you were the only family member still left around here, so that's why I wanted to meet you-- to thank you. You see, if it hadn't been for your uncle, I'd have never made it back home, never married my late wife, never had those two fine boys or any of my wonderful grandkids or great-grandkids."

Mr. Reynolds then bear-hugged me, and said, "Thank you, Bob, and when you talk to them, please tell your cousins I said thank you, too", and that's when I began to cry. He hugged me a little while longer and then handed me his handkerchief, and I got a grip on myself. Then he asked, "Would you come and have a cup of coffee with us? I'd like you to meet my family. They already know who you are, and they'd really like to meet you, especially my oldest son, Ralph".

There are days I do feel sorry for myself, I'll admit, but yesterday wasn't one of them. Yesterday was a day I received a gift, a very precious gift that means more to me than words can say. Thank you, Mr. Reynolds!