"There are things you just don't talk about."
Those were the words he chose when pressed by his nine year old son in 1960 to tell war stories of his time in the South Pacific during WWII. If he had been mad he would have said “Now Hear This” or “Listen Up.”
But he wasn’t angry. Just unmovable. Unwilling or unable to fulfill the boys request. Back in those days every kid wanted to know what their daddy did in the war. But seldom were desired details provided. For this man, most of the information about his years overseas as an Naval officer went to the grave with him.
The pleasant memories of being entertained with a performance by Boris Karloff in "Arsenic and Old Lace" or Bob Hope's show on Kwajalein were acceptable, but secret classified missions behind enemy lines with other engineers, fighting off and killing an enemy landing party, or long seasick travels on Landing Ship Tanks or LST's (often referred to as 'large stationary targets’) were not. A Warbuck signed by his admiral received after flying over the volatile equatorial zone was okay to discuss but tales of ships he refuelled, armed and supplied as the Kwaj ordnance officer that never returned, or which limped back into port like his brother's Belleau Wood after losing hundreds of sailors were kept behind tight lips.
Kwajalein 1944
Lt. Commander Kenneth Jones Photo Album
"They fought the war of homesick, weary, funny, violent, common men...who lug themselves through as dirty a business as the world has ever seen and do it with humor and dignity and courage." John Steinbeck
In the dedication to a book he wrote about his World War II experiences entitled "Flat Bottomed Odyssey" Gene Jaeger wrote; "I never heard one of them (soldiers, sailors or airmen) put his feelings about the war into words. But they knew. When your home, family and friends are threatened you don't talk, you fight." That's the way it is for most veterans. You just don't talk about it. Maybe such heroic silence isn't the best idea. Some memories fester as post-traumatic-stress and cripple the mind, heart and soul with war secrets. But nevertheless most stories too terrible stay locked away forever. Neither loved ones nor therapists could do much to ease the pain. It seems better to bury them along with comrades lost in battle.
I was that nine year old kid who didn't get the story he wanted from his father. One day, when I was much older though and facing a decision about serving in Vietnam, he revealed the incident, which for him, never went away. One of the young men he commanded in the Marshall Islands had suffered through too many horrors. Dad put in a request for stateside leave which had been granted. He was relieved and depression lifted. But a few days later, Dad got a telegram saying the leave had been cancelled and he would have to break the news. In an effort to make the revised orders more bearable, he made up a sad account about some fictitious fellow lost at sea who could no longer replaced him. The man stared blankly only replying "So I won't be going home." Dad confirmed the fact that his young charge would remain on Kwaj. He asked to be dismissed and it was granted. Moments later Dad heard a gunshot and rushed out to discover that the young midshipman put a bullet in his head. The letter he had to write to a grieving family was almost impossible. When the story was told, this patriot and hero of mine said this. "Don't go to war. I fought so you wouldn't have to." It was the very last thing I ever thought I would hear from him.
But so it goes with these we esteem each November 11. Men and women of great courage, they sacrificed everything and ask nothing in return. Except perhaps that the battles they waged might be the last where blood would be spilled in fields of conflict. As grateful recipients of their service we might offer up this heartfelt prayer:
May the secrets our veterans carry for us do them no harm and fade into the mist of their yesterdays.