A man and a soldier

Today I think of something very specific. While I remember my father on this day another story comes to mind.

If you read the post below about my mom, you know she was born and raised in Germany. After the war things were bad, really bad. The was nothing to eat, Not all of our allies acted with kindness. She and her siblings were often hungry and cold. Russian soldiers (not all of them okay.) came through their town and pilfered from their homes. My mother's sister was 16 years old when a group of Russian soldiers caught her walking home, they pulled her into a ditch and gang raped her. They left her in that ditch like she was nothing.

My mother was caned for stealing asparagus from a farmer's field. A little girl, hungry. Someone saw her and told the teacher at school. She was caned in front of the whole class. Kids today have no freakin clue.

There was an American soldier. A black man. My mother had never seen a black man in her little German town. When the Americans came through (before the Russians) they often saw soldiers around town. Mom told me this man in particular will always be in her memory. He would toss candy and his rations to the German kids. They would get so excited to see him. He offered them a tired smile and a little treat. This man gave away his rations, all he had and shared it with his "enemy". Makes you wonder about that term doesn't it?

Mom says now, years later, that she wished she knew his name. I am sure he is long gone from this world. I would have looked him up if I could. Here was a man that came from bad times himself. He was a second class citizen in his own country. His family was most likely poor and had nothing. He shared his food with a hungry little girl. I pray in the afterlife his cup runneth over.

Thank you to our veterans today and thank you to that soldier who only saw a little girl, not an enemy.