Verteran's Day

Back in the days of World War I, or the Great War, as it was known at the time, because who could have imagined then that WWII was just around the corner, my grandfather went to war with his brother John.

They were conscripts in the British Army… as Ireland had not yet achieved independence and was still part of the “Empire”.

I often think of how my grandfather felt when John was shot and killed in a field in Northern France. His mother was sent a picture of his grave…

I wonder how my grandfather felt as a prisoner of war.

Or how disappointing it was to have his escape from the prison camp foiled, how painful it was when they beat him with a shovel for trying…

He survived, and was eventually able to bribe his way out. I learned all this from my father. Grandpa never talked about any of this with me.

On finding freedom, he rejoined the British and was sent to Northern Africa. He served under a British officer, Larry. This story Grandpa did tell me, as we sat in the living room of my childhood home.

After a series of thefts, Larry declared he would execute the thief by firing squad. The thefts continued, coins, lighters, and money clips all going missing.

And then the culprit, a monkey belonging to one of the soldiers, was caught in the act and apprehended. Larry, always a man of his word, ordered the monkey bound and blindfolded, even having them allow the monkey a cigarette before they shot the little beast.

That was Larry for you, my Grandpa said with pride. Then I went off to get Grandpa his whiskey and water- “A little more whiskey than water, my dear.”

As I walked to the kitchen, my father stopped me. Clearly he had been listening.

“Do you know who the officer was?”

I shook my head… Grandpa had not said a last name.

“Lawrence of Arabia”

My grandpa didn’t share any of his other war stories with me. I wish he had.

Today, I remember him and all those who have served. Freedom isn’t free.