KG's Hideaway

I've dreaded doing this post ever since thinking about it last week. It would stand to reason that if it bothers me that much, then perhaps I shouldn't post it. Right? But, I never seem to do things that make any sense. Anyway, I know there everyone knows someone who's a vet, but here's mine.

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My mother's mother's family is Amish Menonite. (I SOOOOOOOOOOOOO would have been kicked out of that religion) My great grandparents lived well into their 90's, which put me in my 20's when they passed. These were just wonderful people. I can not find the words to express how much I loved them.

My grandmother was the youngest girl, with five brothers and two sisters. (Erma, Marion-male, Harley, Richard, Hazel, Wilma-my grandmother, Bob and John) Two of the older boys were drafted, two enlisted. Johnny was too young. I have letters written to and from eachother while they were all away. I also have the letter my great-grandfather wrote to his youngest son on the day he died. My GGF wasn't big on writing letters so just the fact that he did it... THAT day... say alot. But what he wrote still makes me want to cry.

He said that he knew God to be a kind and just God and that we can't wait until the day that he can sit around the table with all of his family there. I'm not doing a good job of characterizing his words. I should probably get it out and just put here what he wrote. Anyway, he mailed the letter that day. A few hours later they were sent a telegram informing them that Bob had been injured during the invasion of Normandy Beach. The enxt day they were told that he was actually killed.

The letters that the other brothers wrote when they found out that their baby brother had paid the highest price they were angry and my uncle Harley was serioulsy ready to kill first, ask questions later. There is absolte agony in his letters and it's quite painful to read them.

After my GGP's got enough money to have Bob's coffin shipped back home they had a funeral for him in the church cemetary. The church had been in turmoil because they didn't want a war veteran butied there since it was against their religion. Eventually, the church split into two churhes but my GGM's punishment was that for one year no one in her congregation would make eye contact with her or speak to her. My GGP's never missed a service in spite of that.

This is my grandmother's family. She's back row, center.

Here are my great=grandparents standing at Bob's grave.

My grandmother and her brother, Bob.