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Today marks the 80th anniversary of the D-Day invasion on Normandy Beach, which began the liberation of France and the rest of Western Europe, laying the foundation for the Allied victory over Nazi Germany in World War II. The D-Day anniversary will be commemorated today at Normandy American Cemetery.
The event hits close to home for my wife, Carol, and me -- plus our extended families. It also raises unsettling questions about current events in our nation. We will address those issues later, but first, let's examine the personal journeys of my family members, which raise existential questions about my presence on this earth -- why I am even here.
I never served in the military, but in what you might call a celestial sense, my premortal life was marked by ties to two, bloody, world-changing wars, one dating to the 1860s. Without getting too "heavy," I owe my existence to the ability of my forebears -- on both sides of my family -- to survive two of the most dangerous conflicts in human history.
I know about my ties to war only because my family has possessed and preserved communications and artifacts from WW II and the Civil War for decades. In fact, my mother possessed the original copy of a letter from a relative on her side of the family who fought in the Civil War. She eventually donated the letter to the visitor's center and museum at the Wilson's Creek National Battlefield, where it is part of the historical record.
Millions of Americans, I'm sure, have similar stories, but this is my story, which seems appropriate to share as we commemorate D-Day and remember those who gave (or risked) their lives to defend our Constitution and beat back the scourge of Adolf Hitler and the Nazis.
How significant was D-Day? It's almost impossible to overstate it. The US Department of Defense calls D-Day the “successful beginning of the end of Hitler's tyrannical regime.” How different would life in America be if Allied troops had not been able to liberate France? That is a disturbing question to contemplate, but my father, William J. Shuler, was there, and he played a role -- I'm quite sure it was a dangerous role -- in securing the freedoms we enjoy today.
As I was growing up, I knew about my dad's military service, but I did not know many details. He had a Luger, the distinctive-looking pistol German troops used, and he showed it to me one time. It looked scary to my eyes, and I've never been much of a gun guy, so I did not ask to see it again and did not want to know where he kept it. I think he might have had a Nazi arm band, but I'm not sure about that. (The Luger and arm band, if it actually existed, were part of my family's war-related artifacts mentioned earlier.) As for the Luger, my brother, Paul, almost shot his foot off with the thing, so I was glad we all survived that episode -- especially since the bullet went through our parents' bedroom floor and landed in the basement, barely missing our fish aquarium, which was a fairly heavily trafficked area, where quite a few folks (including me) made a habit of gathering to watch the fish.
My dad died in 2008, and about 10 years later as my mother was nearing the end of her life, she told me that Dad was in a unit that landed on Normandy beach three days after the D-Day invasion. I've looked online several times for information about Dad's unit, but I haven't found anything so far. My best guess is that they were on what might be called a "recovery mission," to recover bodies, equipment, perhaps German intelligence. I can only imagine the kind of danger my father was in on that mission.
I imagine that unexploded land mines and other munitions dotted the beach. One wrong step, and my father's life would have been over -- and the lives of my siblings and I never would have started.
When you know that a loved one has faced danger and taken great risk to protect our country, our Constitution, our democracy, you have extra appreciation that we are a nation of laws, and you want to see those laws faithfully upheld, not trampled by corrupt judges, lawyers, law-enforcement officials, and other rogues who seem to have no respect for the sacrifices so many have made to protect the country we enjoy today. In fact, exposing such corruption, which essentially spits on the graves of brave men like my father, is why I started this blog, Legal Schnauzer, in 2007 and have written it continuously for 17 years. Along the way, we were ranked in 2013 among the top 50 independent law blogs in North America. That suggests, to me, that the subject matter here resonates with many of my fellow Americans.
My story is not the only one in our household that connects to World War II. My wife, Carol, had an uncle (her mother's brother) who was captured and served in a German prison camp. The trauma of that experience as a POW led to struggles with alcoholism for the rest of his life.
As for my premortal ties to war in the 1860s, it involves the Battle of Wilson's Creek, which was the first major battle of the Trans-Mississippi Theater of the American Civil War. It was fought on August 10, 1861, near Springfield, Missouri.
A man named Elijah Stamps, a relative from my mother's side of the family, was among the 12,120 troops in the mixed Missouri/Arkansas/Confederate force that wound up fighting in the Battle of Wilson's Creek, which produced an estimated 2,550 casualties (killed, wounded, or captured) and was the second major battle of the Civil War, the first fought west of the Mississippi River.
Elijah Stamps, while on the battlefield, wrote a letter to his wife, Elvira. Based on my knowledge of our family history, which can be sketchy in places, Elijah Stamps survived the battle, and his letter somehow wound up with my mother, who treasured it for decades and ultimately made sure it became part of the battlefield's museum collection.
Writing this post has caused me to do the kind of high-minded thinking that I generally try to avoid -- especially when it involves an outcome that could have been not too positive for me, at least when it involves earthly life. Many of you probably have similar stories in your background, some you might not know about. I only know about mine because my mother and father seemed to understand certain items in our household had historical value and helped tell stories that were worth preserving. All of that rolls through my mind today as we remember the 80th anniversary of D-Day. I wonder about what horrors my Dad must have seen, remnants of man's inhumanity to man, a reminder of the wreckage tyrants can wreak. I marvel at his ability to process these images and become a valuable member of society -- a wonderful father and husband, providing lasting examples of a life well-lived.
As for my own efforts at high-minded thinking, these thoughts come to mind:
* What if my father had not survived at Normandy beach? My life, and the family I grew up in, never would have existed;
* As for the Civil War part of our story, that is a bit more complicated. I've never known Elijah Stamps' exact place in our family tree. But it appears he is on the same branch as my grandfather Chess Stamps. Had Elijah Stamps not survived at Wilson's Creek -- in a battle so violent the site now is known as Bloody Hill -- Chess Stamps would have never been born -- and that means my mother never would have been born. That, of course, means my siblings and I never would have taken our places on the stage of life.
I'm grateful to be here, to be able to write this post -- even though writing through tears is not a joyous experience. But I hope readers might find insight in the words I share this day.
As for the unsettling current events mentioned earlier, we will examine them next.
(To be continued)
