I am going to share a diary entry that was written Nov. 28, 1944 – almost 76 years ago to the day. It was written by my uncle. He was engaged in some of the most brutal fighting of World War II.
He was an artillery officer fighting on the German-Belgian border in the Battle of Hürtgen Forest. His words should be used as a mirror when reflecting upon today’s current state.
Wednesday, Nov. 27, 1944, Hürtgen Forest, Belgium
Everyone seems to think that something is coming up. It’s a lousy night and we don’t sleep too well. We’re cold and dirty.
I wonder what it’s like to sleep in a bed. Come to think of it, some people back home are sleeping in beds. Man, oh man, what luxury. A warm bed. In a house. And a lot of guys sleeping with their wives.
Well, that’s the way it goes. Some have necessities, comforts, luxuries, everything. And here are all these doughs [dough is short for doughboy, a U.S. soldier] doing their fighting and doing their suffering. What does it get them? Appreciation, hell no; understanding, hell no; not a damn thing. Just one miserable day after another. Cold, hardship, rain, suffering, pain, death, all piled on top of another. All following so quickly in succession that you wonder how a human being can take it all and still keep going.
Not only how he can take it, but how long. No need to ask that question. We know the answer. Only 4 men out of (our) original outfit are left in this company. 5 in another; 3 in another. Cripes, I wonder if the people back home have the faintest realization of what it’s like.
The worst part of this miserable existence is deciding which you hate more — the intense suffering or the constant danger and fear of death.
My uncle’s words are filled with heartache, raw emotion and despair. He and his comrades not only struggled to see the sun rise on another day, they also fought for the survival of multiple nations and their citizens. In addition to facing the savages of war, they grappled with bad weather, unsanitary living conditions, sleep deprivation and constant fear.
My uncle survived the fighting. He became a successful lawyer, husband and father. He and the soldiers who comprised the Allied forces prevailed. They won the war. Their victory simultaneously became a source of joy and a feeling of responsibility.
They knew war was dark and evil. It had to be prevented. They made a conscious effort to become more inclusive and more humanitarian. Therefore, they aided their former enemies. They ensured a steady flow of food and medical supplies; they helped rebuild infrastructure; and they encouraged the formation of new, democratic governments.
Their work paid great dividends. No large-scale, worldwide conflict has occurred in over 75 years.
Currently things look bleak. The world is gripped by a pandemic. Health professionals are overwhelmed. Thousands of workers and businesses have been seriously damaged — some irreparably. Voters are polarized, and our government suffers from gridlock.
Many predict things will get worse before they get better. That is why the words of my uncle carry great meaning. They tell us that raw emotions are a natural reaction to situations that we cannot control. As my uncle noted in his diary, “the worst part of this miserable existence is deciding which you hate more — the intense suffering or the constant danger and fear of death.”
My uncle despaired, but he did not give up. He motored forward one day at a time. His relentless efforts helped deliver three-quarters of a century of peace and prosperity — for himself, his nation and the world.
At this moment, things appear overwhelming — just as they did for my uncle on Nov. 28, 1944. However, we can repeat his experience. It will not be easy. It will require change. It will force us to put faith in others — including those we view as ideological opposites.
But we can do it. This Thanksgiving holiday marks a perfect time to commit to the endeavor.
Aaron Breen
Aaron Breen, Riverton, is a retired electrical engineer and consultant.
