Doughboys, Flying Tigers and Coming Home – an Armistice Day post

[An archived post in advance of tomorrow’s commemoration of Veteran’s Day.]

My grandfather was a World War One doughboy. Of course it wasn’t called World War One back then. In fact, some thought it would be “The War to End All Wars“. I don’t know if my grandfather felt that way, but he fought in the trenches and suffered mustard gas poisoning just like you read about in books and see in the movies.

World War One memorial in Pennsylvania (Wikimedia)

A Doughboy depicted in a World War One memorial in Pennsylvania
(Wikimedia)

The war ended in an armistice, not a surrender, so the commemoration of the end of hostilities at 11:00 on the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918 came to be known as Armistice Day rather than Veteran’s Day, as we now know it in the States.

A generation later, my father fought in World War Two. The U.S. entered the war less than a week before he turned 18.

He was a young boy who grew up ranching, and immediately volunteered for the Army Air Corps. They took him from central Washington and landed him in central China with General Chenault and the Flying Tigers. He worked on the planes to keep the pilots in the air.

A Flying Tiger squadron (Wikimedia)

A Flying Tiger squadron
(Wikimedia)

When the war ended in 1945, he was about to ship back home when he got sick. Really sick. They transported him from an infirmary in China to a hospital in India, and he stayed there a long, long time.

At first it was all he could do just to lay in bed and try to eat something. After a while he got strong enough to go outside to sit in the shade with a couple of other patients. Eventually he was strong enough for day trips into town, but he was still under a doctor’s care and returned to the hospital after his short excursions.

The mustard gas didn’t kill my grandfather, and that’s a good thing since it meant he was able to come home and marry my grandmother, leading to my mom’s birth a few years later. And my dad recovered after a long hospital recuperation, and that’s another good thing since it meant he met and married my mom, leading to my (and my older brother and sisters’) birth.

Not everyone who goes to war comes home. I am grateful for those who have served and continue to serve.

And I am grateful for our God who promises to put an end to war.

He makes wars cease
    to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
    he burns the shields with fire.
He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
    I will be exalted among the nations,
    I will be exalted in the earth.” (Psalm 46:9-10.)

Wikimedia

Let Us Beat Swords into Plowshares, Evgeniy Vuchetich (Wikimedia)

He will judge between the nations
    and will settle disputes for many peoples.
They will beat their swords into plowshares
    and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation will not take up sword against nation,
    nor will they train for war anymore.
(Isaiah 2:4.)

The weapons of war will be no more and we will find peace in the presence of God.

***

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4 Responses to Doughboys, Flying Tigers and Coming Home – an Armistice Day post

  1. Thanks for sharing this, Tim. How blessed to have two generations return from two great wars!

  2. Julie Frady says:

    My dad served in Vietnam. I’m thankful he came home, too, since he didn’t become a Christian until several years after he returned. He never talked about his experiences in the war, except for a few snippets. He died several years ago and I still miss him.

    My grandmother’s oldest brother served in WW I. He came home “shellshocked” and lived the rest of his life with what we now call PTSD, but he had no treatment for it. I don’t think he ever married, and he couldn’t handle most social situations. The letters we have from him to my grandmother even years or decades after WW I are written in a shaky hand and are full of self-doubt and fear, and he begs for her prayers over and over again. I am thankful that he is now in Heaven free of those problems.

  3. Jeannie Prinsen says:

    Great family legacy, Tim. Thanks for writing about it.

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