In June of 1942, an 18 year old young man said goodbye to his beautiful, pregnant bride in Iaeger, WV. He began a journey that, two years later, would take him to Normandy, France, as an anti-aircraft gunner.
The story is sketchy and vague to me because, like most heroes, he didn’t like to talk about himself or his role in the War. An anecdote here, a story there—but no comprehensive first-person account was passed on.
Maybe the memories were too dark and painful to recall and recount. Or maybe it was simply because personal tales of heroism and gallantry are out of character for hard working, humble, West Virginia coal miners.
I read the history books. I know what anti-aircraft crews went through on D-Day. I know that, without the efforts of men like him, the Normandy Invasion would have been lost. And I know that if the Normandy Invasion would have failed, the war would likely have been lost.
Some historians might be able to argue that point—but what no one can argue is that those men were and are heroes. Simple, humble heroes. The kind that built and preserved a nation.
On the beach at Normandy, that man was called Private. Later, he was called Corporal. I only knew him as Pawpaw. Earnest Stanley died ten days after Veteran’s Day in 2004. I have a cased American flag in my office that commemorates his service, but in reality, his service and the service of every veteran is commemorated every time we enjoy the freedoms he quietly and anonymously fought to protect.
God bless our quiet heroes and happy Veteran’s Day to all who have served.
Romans 13:1-7
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