Veteran's Day 2010

Once again, Veteran's Day has rolled around. In Connecticut, schools were closed and I would gather my daughter and walk down to the Monuments on Broad Street. Quite often, there was a parade which started at the school, wound around the block and finished at the monuments where a volley was fired in salute, wreaths were laid, speaches and prayers delivered. Here, there are no monuments (instead, Troy's Football Stadium was constructed as a memorial), school is in session, and I marched in no parade.

It doesn't mean I don't think about it. I like what President Woodrow Wilson said: "To us in America, the reflections of Armistice Day will be filled with solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country’s service and with gratitude for the victory, both because of the thing from which it has freed us and because of the opportunity it has given America to show her sympathy with peace and justice in the councils of the nations…" I like that the original act to recognize what was then Armistice day said:

Whereas the 11th of November 1918, marked the cessation of the most destructive, sanguinary, and far reaching war in human annals and the resumption by the people of the United States of peaceful relations with other nations, which we hope may never again be severed, and

Whereas it is fitting that the recurring anniversary of this date should be commemorated with thanksgiving and prayer and exercises designed to perpetuate peace through good will and mutual understanding between nations; and

Whereas the legislatures of twenty-seven of our States have already declared November 11 to be a legal holiday: Therefore be it Resolved by the Senate (the House of Representatives concurring), that the President of the United States is requested to issue a proclamation calling upon the officials to display the flag of the United States on all Government buildings on November 11 and inviting the people of the United States to observe the day in schools and churches, or other suitable places, with appropriate ceremonies of friendly relations with all other peoples. I am especially thankful to the infantry who I think always gets the bad end of the stick.

Later, an act was created to established the day as a day to promote World Peace. I rather like that too.

I don't like that another war followed and that we have had many more since. I thank Veteran's when I see them. My grandfather served in both World War II and World War II, my father and his twin in World War II (my uncle being killed at Okinawa), my nephew served, my husband's cousin, Domingo Ochotorena, while a naturalized citizen served in Gulf I and is currently retired. I thank my niece's boyfriend, Andrew Cole for serving in Iraq (Semper fi, guy) and I pray that all of those who are currently serving and those who have left the service find some rest from the horrors that they have seen, and adapt to the lives that they now lead.

My dad, now 88, has been sharing stories of the War. He didn't use to. I only used to hear him talk about it when he got together with our friend, Karl Simroth, who interestingly enough, served in the Hitler Youth, as all young men in Germany who were too young to fight did. It was interesting to hear both sides.

When I was out there in September, Dad spoke with my sister about Anzio, spurred by a book that he had recently read. Dad was in the 5th Army Corps of Engineers and went from North Africa, to Salerno, to Anzio and on up and at the end of the war was at Innsbruck, Austria.

Dad said that this particular book, wasn't entirely accurate. According to the author, the German's were "beaten back", but dad, who spent three weeks (not vacationing mind you) at Borgo Sabatino said that the Germans withdrew because of other pressures to the north.

It's funny what becomes indelible inscribed in memory. Dad noted the location on a map where a Pole and an Italian , fully armed and part of the service troops (probably ran the kitchen), surrendered to him along the road while other GI’s were asleep nearby…but not near their weapons. He noted that probably that was fortunate – if someone had opened fire there would have been an incident. The GI’s weapons were propped up against a nearby building. An English “chap” offered me a cup of tea in a tin cup. It was too hot to drink. It was the same morning, May 25, when the two prisoners surrendered to me. Isn't it odd? That snapshot of the Brit offering dad tea....It is also funny as dad drinks his coffee REALLY hot.

Dad also almost became a casualty from friendly fire....This story is a testament how rattled people can be when under stressful situations:

"I was shot at by friendly fire as I knelt down at this location. I was setting out a listening post in no man’s land and had told the people in the machine gun position that I was going (out to set up the listening post) and would return. They (the gunners) had tied tin cans to the telephone line and when I moved the line to see of the phone was operable the cans rattled. They hadn’t informed me about the cans. When they heard the cans rattle, they fired without identifying their target. I saw the tracers going over my back and if I had been standing…that would’ve been it. I took off running toward a barn and wondering what I was going to do. The company commander came into the barn. He asked me who they were shooting at and I said “me.” He asked me what I was going to do and I answered that I was thinking of going to the German line (as dad thought it would be safer....of course, he has the same weird sense of humor I do). He then asked where they were shooting and I said they were shooting high. He then went out into the open and to the strong point whereupon he reprimanded the shooters for shooting to high. Thanks a lot.

As I have been struggling with the pain from the cancer and the fatigue I have from the chemo, I keep on thinking of all the young men and women who will have long term pain, and those who will never turn their faces to the sun again. While I don't think that I have lived long enough at age 50, to look back at their lives cut short in half the time, I often feel like I don't have anything to complain about. I just wish that somehow human nature would finally get it right and see no point to having war at all. Of course, that's merely a dream.

Memorializing those who Served, remembering a twin

For a while, Memorial Day seemed like it was becoming only a day for picnics, not to remember those who served and gave their lives for their country. I think that since the recent wars, Gulf I and Gulf II, that may be changing as more and more people are touched by those who are currently serving or have served. Although I think for most people in the U.S. today, it is hard to remember that we are a country at war.

At left is my father, John A. Broberg, and his twin brother, David J Broberg. My dad told me the story that when he was born, there was a German midwife along with the doctor at the house. Dad was born and the doctor was doing something and about five minutes later, the midwife yelled, "Mein Gott! Doktor, dere ist un utter von!"

They were inseparable. They were mirror twins, which means that one was exactly the opposite than the other--identical, but where one was left handed, the other right, one had a mole on the left side , the other on the right.

Dad has often commented that wars were things that the politicians got us into. I suppose that's right, but I also know that he and his brother had something they they believed they were fighting for when they first enlisted. They were attending school at what was then the Colorado School of Mines, studying engineering, when news of Pearl Harbor reached them. The next day, they went first to the Navy offices to enlist, but they were closed, so they then went to the Army.

That seems only natural now, as Grandpa, John A. Broberg, Sr. seen here, had served as a training officer at Fort Sheriden, IL right out of college in WWI and he re-enlisted for WWII. This is in his WWII uniform and I'm not sure if it is in Japan, La Jolla, or at Ft. Sheridan.

While both Dave and my dad could fly, and had flown for a number of years, they were both put into the 5th Army Corps of Engineers. Dad served in the European theater, and Dave in the Pacific.

Dad had many close calls, but managed to make it through. Dave, who was a sergeant at this time, had just taken an area on Okinawa when a sharpshooter hit and killed him. Dad said that he knew when it happened. That thread which connected them before birth had been snipped, and thousands of miles away my dad felt it.

I've often wondered what life would have been like for my father and for us had my uncle lived. What would it be like to have cousins from a man who looked exactly like my dad? (OK, not exactly like my dad, dad always looks like there is a little devil in him, and Dave always looks in pictures like the serene one.)


I think even now, my dad sorrows for his lost twin. In fact, I think all of us feel his pain even these many years.

At left is the picture of my dad's company in front of the Arc de Triumph. My dad is smack in the middle of the row which is standing.

It is sort of amusing. Dad always got along better with the Germans than he did with the French whom he helped "liberate." He can still speak quite a bit of German, although I suspect he learned it from a certain Fraulein. He has always looked upon war as a terrible tragedy where the common person is the one who loses on all sides.

I suppose that's one reason why I always tried to take my daughter to watch the ceremonies on Veteran's Day and on Memorial Day. I don't think it sunk in. She's managed to be involved in a whirlwind of graduation parties and swimming parties. I didn't make it an issue to go to a Parade (I'm not sure that there even was one here), and I didn't see any postings of any services.

When I was young, growing up in Bronson, Michigan, we had a parade with veteran's, and the High School Marching Band, and the Boy and Girl Scouts. We would march down the main street to the cemetery which was across the street from the High School. There, there would be a speech or two, then the honor guard would shoot their rifles and taps would play. It was moving. It is still moving thinking about it today.

I'm told that that is so old school now. Marching Bands must be paid to march. People are all away for the weekend, or they have other things which must be attended to. Somehow, I think that all this "old Fashionedness" which has been lost is representative of the tearing of the social fabric.

Dad's still living. To him, and to all the others who have served, and to those who gave everything and to those who lost so much, thank you. We remember. I, and I know others of us don't understand why some of the wars happen....the old "to preserve our nations freedom" sometimes seems a bit off to me.... None-the-less, following duty, doing what you think is right, and giving your all must be remembered and recognized. Bless them all. Bless us all.