The Shrinking Generation

I agree wholeheartedly with Tom Brokaw or whoever it was that coined the term "Greatest Generation" when referring basically to those of the WWII era. Not knowing exactly when one generation ends and another begins, I believe these are basically the same people who made major contributions to America's superiority in space (fast being overtaken) and the resulting technological advances in medicine, communication, transportation, and yes modern warfare. This post though, specifically refers to those who defeated Nazi Germany and the Japanese Warlords in WWII. I think I read recently that more than a million men and women served in the military from 1941 to 1945 and millions more "served" on the home front, sacrificing by going without all but the barest of necessities. Sacrifices not asked for since.


Buford, wife Louise and I July 2008.

That Greatest Generation has been declining in numbers at a pace that grows more and more rapid each day. The television reported last Thursday, Veterans Day, that a WWII veteran passes every 90 seconds. That is really what prompts me to write this. My uncle, a WWII vet awarded 2 purple hearts in the European theater, passed away some three weeks ago. This photo is from my last visit with him, but I called him two or three times a year and always on Veterans Day. This year I learned that he had passed away some two weeks before Veterans Day. My first memory of him was a visit to the VA hospital in West Virginia where he was recuperating from wounds received when he was shot by a Nazi officer. I recall looking up at what seemed endless steps at the front of the hospital and then at the top seeing him greet us from a wheelchair. I probably had seen him before but was too young to remember that as I was probably four years old at the time of the VA hospital visit and it is one of the earliest memories of my childhood. In later years he was able to walk without the aid of a cane but always had a limp resulting from shrapnel which prompted occasional visits to the VA as bits and pieces worked their way to the surface. Uncle "Buf" as he liked to be called, became a master mechanic, first with a Nash dealership and after Nash went out of business he became "Mr. Goodwrench." I remember through the years he always seemed unflappable, I never recall seeing him angry. Although when I was very young I still remember sleeping down the hall and hearing the nightmares which woke him on many nights as memories of the war returned. We spoke very little about the war except occasional references to drill and ceremonies, marching, standing "tall" and saluting. He taught me some movements while I shouldered an old German rifle war trophy. I remember that on several occasions he spoke with my parents about sending me to a military academy, an idea that sounded neat to me, but the realities of cost, lost on me, were apparently enough to prevent my parents from following through. It was always a joy to visit my uncle which I did many summers in the fifties and sixties. He had some of the most well trained dogs I ever saw, first was Colonel a doberman pincher trained for the military but too late to be shipped overseas. Colonel was not an easy dog for my aunt or anyone else to control, but when uncle Buford was there Colonel heeded every word, words spoken with authority but seldom with a raised voice. Colonel was eventually followed by a gentle, playful female Boxer named Blondie so well trained that she would sit perfectly still with raw hamburger perched on her nose until given the command when it would disappear with one lightning fast motion. My uncle was mostly responsible for my first real airplane ride when a friend of his took me up in a two seat Piper Cub to fly over my grandfather's house. In later years he had part ownership in a faster roomier Super Cub and flew it once to Daytona to see the Daytona 500, stopping by middle Georgia to visit us. Later still he joined the Experimental Aircraft Association and kept a rare Funk two seater in the basement while it was being restored. The frailties of old age eventually called a halt to flying and inevitably to the restoration project. Uncle Buford was such a highly skilled mechanic and such a likable individual that in the mid 1950s he restored a Model A Ford to such perfection that the Chevrolet dealer where he worked until retirement allowed the Ford to be displayed for a time in a second story window overlooking the main entrance. A spot normally reserved for new model Chevrolet's each year. Uncle Buford was the epitome of that greatest generation; after giving so much to the Nation in a time of war; returning to rebuild our economy; the small towns and big cities of America; always giving a helping hand to friends, neighbors, as well as strangers; all while being active participants in local affairs through their church, fraternal organizations such as the American Legion, Veterans of Foreign Wars, the Disabled American Veterans, the Masonic Lodges and the like. He, like so many of that fast disappearing generation, will be sorely missed. I can only hope that sometime in the very near future another Greatest Generation will appear in this country so in need of their spirit, determination and selflessness.
Rest In Peace; an old soldier who will be fondly remembered, always admired, loved and respected by so many family and friends.