I couldn’t help watching the TV coverage of the 80th anniversary of D-Day. It’s a moving and pivotal episode in our history and a reminder of values that often are forgotten today.
I got acquainted with the Greatest Generation when I joined the Navy in 1964. Most of the senior officers and noncoms in those days were World War II veterans and were approaching retirement after 20-plus years on active duty.
My first duty station, a joint-forces headquarters in Albuquerque, was a magnet for senior officers on their twilight tours because it was a great place to retire. One of my bosses was a Navy commander who was building a lavish new house near the base. Another was an Air Force colonel who had purchased a ranch outside of town.
Because military headquarters tend to be top-heavy, senior officers actually outnumbered their juniors. At one point I was the only Navy ensign among two admirals and several dozen captains and commanders. I was 21 years old and marveled at the age and seniority of the brass-hatted elders I encountered (including the Army colonel who became my father-in-law). The Air Force in particular had numerous officers who had been promoted to colonel in their 20s by surviving high casualty rates and stuck around for another 20 years without further advancement. Some of them were colonels before I was born.
They rarely talked about their experiences in World War II and Korea. I wish I’d had the temerity to ask. When I told my Air Force colonel boss that the Navy was transferring me to Sasebo, Japan, his response was: “Nice town. I bombed it once.”
After my sea duty tour, I encountered another gold-braided environment at the Great Lakes, IL, naval district headquarters. By this time I had more appreciation that those stuffy seniors were badass when they were my age. The elderly admiral who woodenly delivered the speeches I wrote for him earned a Silver Star on D-Day as a particularly daring destroyer skipper.
In one meeting it took me a minute to notice that the captain at the other end of the table wore an unusual light-blue ribbon with gold stars. I learned later that he earned the Congressional Medal of Honor as a lieutenant in charge of a landing craft. The Navy recently named a ship for him.
I encountered another contingent of the Greatest Generation years later. In 2012 I co-authored the biography of an Albuquerque veteran who was captured in the Philippines and spent the rest of the war in Japanese POW camps. My co-author and I attended a reunion of Bataan-Corregidor survivors in Albuquerque as part of our work on the book. I was surprised at the number of survivors who were healthy and vigorous in their 90s, suggesting that people who survived the ordeal they went through are practically indestructible.
If I gained unique insight and priceless inspiration by serving under a generation of heroes, it wasn’t evident at the time. I had some excellent mentors and encountered a few blockheads. Mostly I absorbed the example of solid citizens who didn’t brag, were team players and generally got things done. Exactly the sort of men who stormed the beach on D-Day.