Hey guys, I posted a couple of reviews on the site tonight, and they're the first in a while, I know. I also know that many of you love to read my reviews, and I appreciate your kind comments and positive feedback over the past few years that I've been on this site. You Canucks have made a Texan feel right at home, and I've made some fantastic friends/trading partners/etc thanks to JoeCanuck.
It seems that the older we get and the higher we get promoted, the more family and job responsibilities take us away from the hobbies we love. I love GI Joe. While I fell in love with it later than a lot of you, it has remained one of my favorite hobbies through the years.
Anyway, I posted those reviews and will most likely post more soon because as much as increased responsibilities seem to take us all away from the hobbies you love, turning to those hobbies in rough times can take your mind off the rough times and give you joy...especially when you are fortunate enough to be in the position I am in, where my review-writing gives joy to others.
My rough times are related to my Dad, Earl Rogers Parker. While I am only 31, I am the product of a late-life remarriage for my father. My Dad is currently 87 years old, and will be 88 on May 11. As I write this, he is in a veterans' hospital in San Antonio, TX with a combination of fluid buildup throughout his body, pneumonia, and a blood infection.
As much joy as GI Joe brings us and as much fun as the toys are to play with, when it comes down to it they are truly based on the real soldiers that have proudly served their country in times of war. My Dad could very easily be a real-life GI Joe. He served in World War II as a .30 caliber machine gunner, Company M, 16th Infantry Regiment of the First Division...the famed Big Red One. On June 6, 1944, he was part of the assault team in the first wave that stormed Omaha Beach in Normandy, and one of the very few first-wavers to make it through unscathed. Dad almost drowned in the English Channel when their landing craft's coxswain noticed the Germans pumping 88mm shells and machine-gunning into the landing craft in front of theirs as soon as those craft dropped their ramps. The coxswain got scared and dropped their ramp early, leaving Dad and his buddies to plunge into water well over their heads.
Dad dropped his machine gun, his helmet, his pack...everything but his M1911 .45 ACP, because he couldn't get his pistol belt off. He still almost drowned, and many of his friends did. As he finally made it onto the beach, he saw a guy in his company, a great big bull of a man who Dad describes as strong as a team of oxen, get stitched across his front with German machine gun fire. That big bull of a man kept running like nothing had happened to him, until the life finally left him and he dropped stone dead on the beach.
Despite being greatly disorganized, dispirited, and disarmed for the most part, the soldiers on Omaha eventually fought their way up the cliffs and bluffs. The troops Dad were with captured a German pillbox, and several guys led German prisoners out. These were the first Germans Dad had seen up close, so he was understandably nervous. Dad drew his previously waterlogged .45, intending to help cover the Germans, but he started shaking. A guy from his company who was by this time a veteran of Africa and Sicily looked at him and said, "Parker, put that God damn gun away before you either shoot one of us or squirt water on those poor Germans!" Dad complied.
Dad fought with the Big Red One through France, Belgium, and into Germany. Along the way, his group got the Bronze Star for helping to rescue the crew of an American bomber that went down close to them. They fought off a German team sent to capture the bomber's crew. One of the pilots gave Dad his leather bomber jacket as a token of gratitude.
In Aachen, Germany, the Big Red One was engaged in building-to-building fighting, as this was the first German city the Allies had attacked, and the Germans were determined to hold it. Dad and several of his buddies had taken refuge in the basement of a house when they heard a shell coming in. Knowing the sound of a close shell, they all took cover. The shell crashed through the roof of the house, all the floors above them, and into the basement with them. Thinking it was a delayed fuse, they hauled butt out of the basement, and encountered an Explosive Ordnance Disposal engineer walking by. After informing him of the shell, the EOD guy had them lead him to the basement. He walked downstairs, examined the shell, and to my Dad's great consternation, kicked the shell. The EOD guy explained that it was obviously a dud, or else I would not be sitting here typing this, among other things.
On November 18, 1944 (ironically enough my birthday) in the Huertgen Forest in Germany, Dad was wounded by a tree burst. If you've ever watched
Band of Brothers you've probably seen the episode where Easy Company helps hold the line at Bastogne. At both Bastogne and the Huertgen Forest, the Germans set their artillery to go off in the trees, so not only did Allied soldiers have to deal with the shrapnel from the artillery, they ALSO had to deal with deadly flying pieces of tree, some of which got my Dad. Besides the insult of being wounded, Dad also lost the various war trophies he had gathered during his trip across Europe...everything from German insignia and medals to genuine Lugers to that prized, hard-earned bomber jacket, which probably hurt the worst.
On Thanksgiving Day, 1944 Dad was recuperating in the hospital in Liege, Belgium when it was hit by a German V1 Buzz Bomb. While not wounded, he was evacuated to England. Upon recovery, Dad was fortunate enough to be reassigned to SHAEF, where he remained for the rest of the European campaign. While there, he was walking by the train station when a train let off steam. The sound was just like the sound an incoming shell makes, and Dad quickly dove in a ditch for cover, and just as quickly realized what was really happening. Sheepishly, he dusted himself off while looking around and hoping no one noticed.
On May 7, 1945 Dad got to watch German General Alfred Jodl and his delegation goose-step into SHAEF Headquarters in Reims, France to officially and unconditionally surrender Germany to the Allies. While many cheered, Dad cried. When asked why he was crying, he replied that he had lost so many good friends in the war to that point, that he was so happy that no more needed to die in Europe.
As you can probably tell from all this, my Dad is my biggest hero. Besides being a great, unassuming American war hero, he is a kind, gentle man who many, MANY people think very highly of. I hope that when I am his age, I have close to that many people think that highly of me. While he is definitely MY hero, he is an uncommon hero, as I know hundreds of thousands of Americans, Canadians, and British have a father, mother, brother, sister, husband, wife, uncle, aunt, cousin or other family member who has proudly served his or her country in wartime, from World War I to the War on Terror.
As I said at the beginning...we are all fans of GI Joe and military toys, but our toys and imaginary heroes should serve to remind us of the TRUE heroes out there that give us the basis for our imaginary heroes. We should also remember that those heroes and hobbies give us great things, from simple distractions to very true friends, that we can turn to in difficult times.
Sharing his story with you, my friends, seemed the easiest way to take my mind off his current plight and to honor him. Your thoughts and prayers for my family are appreciated in this difficult time. I am adding two pictures...one of my Dad in 1945, and one of his medals. When Dad took had the picture of himself taken, he proudly sent it home to my grandparents, thinking they would be thrilled with such a handsome photo.
My grandmother cried for hours upon receiving the photo because of how skinny and how terrible my Dad looked, in her opinion.
If any of you have similar stories, I would love to hear them. Yo. Joe.
