This article was intended to published Memorial Day Weekend but was delayed for a few days due to the author’s schedule. This article is referring to a certain day and time in our history. There have been several other wars and conflicts since the day we are referring to and those who served in those wars deserve no less thanks and respect that those who were involved in the Second World War.
During the Second World War, millions of young men and women answered the call of their Country and entered the military in order to fight and protect our way of life. No matter which division of the service these men and women entered, they were dedicated to overcoming the enemy and assuring our security in the world. We all owe a debt of gratitude to all the people in the service who served and we need to earnestly thank them for placing life and limb in harms way for our country. In fact, saying “thank you” to them is not nearly strong enough or deep enough to properly relay the thoughts of thanksgiving that they deserve. “Thank You” seems to fall flat when we use it to thank someone for their service in our behalf.
My father, M. Frank Harrell, joined the Navy as did a couple of my uncles. He left our home in 1943 to go and serve our country. I was a slightly less that a year old when he boarded the bus to go for training. I don’t remember the day he left for his service in the Navy but I do remember the day he came home and it was an exciting day for sure.
My mother, Martha Raye Harrell and I lived with my grandparents in their home on Central Avenue in Tifton, GA. Several families lived in that large white house which was about two blocks from downtown Tifton. My mother and I along with My Uncle Bill’s wife, Lillian and their infant son, Billy, plus Grandmother and Granddaddy Golden. Many families grouped up that way during the war in order to survive. So, there were three families represented by six total people living in the home. The room that my mother (the daughter of my grandparents) and I lived in was in the back of the house down a long dark hallway. That room was our “home” during the war.
After training, my father was assigned to a ship that went to the South Pacific. This was a theatre of the war that was very destructive and dangerous because Japan was very strong in that area. Some of the bloodiest battles were fought in the Pacific Theatre and my father was right in the middle of it. He served on a destroyer as a radar operator. The conning tower of those ships was a favorite target of the kamikaze pilots. Those Japanese pilots were on a suicide mission to crash their planes into a ship in an effort to sink the vessel. As those planes came to perform their mission, every anti-aircraft gun in the fleet would be shooting at them trying to stop them before they could hit a ship. My father told me about one of those planes leveling off at his conning tower one day. Every gun was shooting at it and suddenly, about one hundred yards from hitting the tower, it suddenly exploded into a thousand pieces. One wing of the plane went on one side of the ship and the other went to the other side. My father and his mates in the tower with him were spared. Close!
My father was also the paymaster for the fleet. One day he was going down a rope ladder to get on a smaller vessel to go to the main ship in the fleet with all the pay records. The sea that day was very rough. In descending the ladder in the rough sea, he lost his grip and fell a few feet. He happened to grab a rung of the ladder and that is what saved him from being crushed between the two ships. However, his legs did get injured as the sea slammed the two vessels together. His knees were damaged with the right one be hurt the worst. Because of this accident, Dad was sent to the hospital in Manila where he stayed for several months until his legs were healed. Of course, all of our family was very concerned about these events and we looked forward to his return home.
One day my mother and I were in our bedroom in the back of the house. Grandmother was cooking lunch. Life was about as normal as it could be in those days of international turmoil. There was a knock on our latched front door. I was about three at the time and my mother told me to go see who was at the front door. Off down that long dark hallway I went and when I entered the living room, I saw a man standing at the door looking into the house. He said, “well, hello young man, where’s your mother.” I didn’t know who he was so I ran back down the hall and told my mother that there was a man at the front door. She said, “Do you know who it is” and I said “no I don’t but he has on a white suit and a white hat.” Her eyes brightened and with a loud scream of happiness, she ran down that hall toward the front door as fast as she could. Sure enough, it was my father home from the South pacific. Mother unlatched the door and they embraced and kissed happily. My father then reached down and picked me up in his arms and we all embraced. He looked at me and remarked about what a good-looking little man I was. I still didn’t know who he was until my mother said, “Bill, this your daddy. He is home from the war.” It only took me a few minutes to understand the situation and we all had a great time of reunion. My grandmother came running into the living room and she and daddy hugged and laughed they were so happy.
So, when my dad came home from the Second World War, I did not know him. I didn’t remember him from when he left because I was less than a year old. But, it didn’t take us long to establish that father and son relationship which was very strong all the rest of our lives.
Many families suffered a lot of things during that war but the American people pulled together and won the day for the world. But it was the brave men and women who served in the military that deserve the glory for winning the Second World War. I pray we never have such a war again because, as I look at America of today, I wonder if we could win such a war again in the way we won that one. I hope and pray that our people would come together, pay the price and win as they won the Second World War. I have always been proud that my father was a part of the winning effort.
God Bless America!!
