Travels with Tosh — A Journal; Ep. 39

Saturday, 7 December 2024

December 7, 1941, was the day the Japanese armed forces launched a surprise attack on the U.S. Pacific Fleet, at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. The attack killed or wounded more than 3,500 American troops and civilians, severely damaged the fleet, and shocked a nation. The next day, President Franklin D. Roosevelt called it “a date which will live in infamy,’ during an address to Congress.

Within hours, the United States entered World War II.

This is significant enough for me, a Vietnam combat veteran, to write about for one reason, and not the reason you are thinking about, dear reader. Obviously, I am not a World War II veteran, and my father was, but in a non-combatant position in Germany.

Today, I was working in the contact center office of the Long-term Visitor Area where I live and work as a volunteer for the winter. I was processing inbound campers, selling season passes, answering questions, as I do every shift. This shift was special, and is the reason I am writing about it.

A fellow in a white car drove up and parked. A very old man, the only occupant, got out, and without help or device assistance from a cane or walker, walked steadily up to the window. He came to the window and asked some questions about the passes we sell.

During the conversation, he told me his name. He then said he was a World War II veteran and was 104 years old. He had a hat with the name and designation of his destroyer, one that was based in Pearl Harbor. It sank, but he survived, somehow.

I can tell you that made my day. To have one of the very, very few surviving members from what is called the Greatest Generation — for their sacrifices for the war effort — visit my place of work on the day I was working, while I was manning the front window, is just an honour that I will probably never have again.

I told him my name, and that I was a Vietnam combat veteran, I shook his hand, and honestly and emotionally thanking HIM for his service. It was, indeed, a privilege to meet him and shake his hand.

Friends, I know wartime, especially combat, is miserable for everyone. There are no winners; we all lose something, but to be in the presence of one of those servicemen who served and survived a horrible attack that killed many of his colleagues, was an honour that will live with me for the rest of my life.