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Heroes
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Australia, Heroes
Australian Rules
And I ain’t talking about football. Let’s read a bit from this guy’s Victoria Cross citation:
During the conduct of this vehicle manoeuvre to extract the convoy from the engagement area, a severely wounded coalition force interpreter was inadvertently left behind.
Of his own volition and displaying complete disregard for his own safety, Trooper Donaldson moved alone, on foot, across approximately 80 metres of exposed ground to recover the wounded interpreter.
His movement, once identified by the enemy, drew intense and accurate machine gun fire from entrenched positions.
Upon reaching the wounded coalition force interpreter, Trooper Donaldson picked him up and carried him back to the relative safety of the vehicles then provided immediate first aid before returning to the fight.
So. Imagine running almost the length of a football field, picking up a full grown man, and carrying him back the same distance. Now imagine angry Afghans shooting machine guns at you the whole way.
As part of winning the VC, all members of the Australian armed forces will now salute Trooper Donaldson, up to and including the highest ranking officer. The rest of us? We can do nought but buy him a beer.
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Australia, Heroes
More Evidence Australians Are Awesome
My earlier post about the band The Living End did its best to highlight how I feel about Australians. Short version: they’re like Americans with more balls.
And right on time, here’s some new evidence. An Australian man in his early 20s saw a shark attacking his 13-year-old cousin. So he jumped on his surfboard and paddled out to help. The shark had a firm grip on the girl’s leg, but her cousin punched it in the nose, causing it to let go.
He then helped her aboard his surfboard and paddled in to shore as the shark pursued them. All I can say is, this guy is big “down under”.
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Heroes
Memorial Day
I have a theory that if you look into the life of just about anyone born between 1910 and 1920, you’ll find a hero. I was reminded again the other day when I heard about the death of Dick Martin, half of the team of Rowan & Martin who hosted the popular late-60s show Laugh-In.
I read up on him and also on his partner, Dan Rowan, and discovered that Rowan was a fighter pilot in the Pacific in WWII. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Service back then was so common as to be unremarkable. Still, it’s amazing to me how often we only learn about people’s service when they die. Longtime Dallas Cowboys coach Tom Landry was a bomber co-pilot completed 30 missions over Germany. Mime Marcel Marceau helped smuggle Jewish children out of occupied France. Even the cross-dressing worst directory ever, Ed Wood, was a Marine who stormed the beach at Tarawa.
There are many, many veterans who were not so well known, and to them, we give our thanks.
Update: Dick Martin lost the use of his right lung when he was 18 (1939 or 1940), so that may be the reason I can’t find a record of any military service.
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Heroes
I Hope I Would Have The Guts
05.07.08 | Permalink | 2 CommentsJoseph Richardson was walking down the street in Chicago with his four year old daughter when a car jumped the curb, headed right for them.
The choice wasn’t live or die, it was one coffin or two, and Richardson did the only thing he could. He snatched up his daughter and lifted her into the air as the car smashed into him. He was killed, she’s in the hospital. Richardson was 39, same age as me.
The driver? Drunk.
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Heroes, War
D-Day
I finally found out the reason why: it was because of the National Guard.
Actually, I guess it’s a little more complex than that. But ultimately, a National Guard unit is why the National D-Day Memorial is in Bedford, Virginia, my dad’s home town.
Times were tough all over back in the late 1930s, as the Great Depression showed few signs of letting up. People stuggled to get by as best they could. A few dollars here or there could keep hungry bellies full.
For many young men in Bedford, those dollars came from the National Guard. A drill session once a month and summer camp in Virginia Beach were all that was required. It’s really no surprise that many signed up.
Then the war came, and the Guard unit was absorbed whole into the Army. That’s why so many men from the same area ended up serving together.
And on June 6th, 1944, thirty five of these young men from Bedford climbed into boats and headed for a beach on the coast of France code-named Omaha. By the end of the day nineteen of them would be dead, many of them without ever touching French soil. Their section of the beach was not captured in the assault; instead the Army broke through to the east and captured that part of Omaha from the rear.
And that’s the reason why.
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