Pre Memorial Day Sentimentality

Memorial Day is coming and I think it's time for me to get sentimental. To tell you the truth, I've been looking at some old photos so I think it might be beyond my control.

Anyone who has ever read this idiotic blog to its entirety would know that my dad is a Vietnam veteran. But us Anderson folk have a longer line of military tradition. And there's a little bit on my mom's side of the family too.

My grandfather on my mother's side was a Methodist minister. He died when I was six in 1991. I barely remember him. In WWII he was a young chaplain who stayed in this country, comforting the people who lost loved ones, and sometimes comforting those soldiers who came back severely wounded. I have been told his work during WWII was very rewarding, and also very taxing.

Grandpa Anderson in WWII

My grandfather on my father's side died about ten years ago. I think he was 92. In WWII he was in the Army Air Corp. He was stationed in Australia for most of the war but was moved up to one of the airbase islands near the end.

A few years before he died he was over for Thanksgiving dinner, as he usually was in the years after my grandmother died. One time he happened to mention WWII and I jumped in and asked him if he ever shot anyone. I think I was about 14 at the time. I still remember how Grandpa answered.

Grandpa, top middle

He leaned back in his chair and said that for a time his outfit was having trouble with a mischievous kangaroo that would break into a supply tent at night and make a mess of things. Finally enough was enough and Grandpa was ordered to stand guard in the tent the next night. He said that they gave him a thompson "to make sure he did the job right". I learned that a thompson was a type of machine gun.

Grandpa with my dad in 1951

Well, sure enough, the kangaroo paid a visit. Grandpa put a flashlight on the animal, aimed the machine gun, and pulled the trigger. According to my grandfather, he was totally unprepared for the power and the noise of the thompson. He said he put a line of bullet holes across the back of the tent without ever coming close to the kangaroo. According to Grandpa, he was more terrified by the thompson than was the kangaroo. But Grandpa said that the kangaroo must have gotten the message because he never returned.

Grandpa looked at me, grinned, and said, "Katie, that was my combat during WWII". I miss you Grandpa.