By Charlotte K. Jarmy
I was ready to give up on November’s big holiday: Thanksgiving. What is there to be thankful about? The war in Iraq is still creating violence and death. Maybe I should hold my breath to avoid the skepticism that can destroy peace of mind.
Election day is over; we have a new party in power. What will happen with President Bush still in office for the next two years? Beyond Rumsfeld’s departure, what news will we get from the front? The election was a sweeping defeat, but Democrats now have to show they can preside over a more peaceful world.
In a sense, we will all be tested. We have an opportunity to reach out to those with opposing views, not just politically but socially as well. It hurts to have failed politicians who play out their predatory leanings, but I feel the same anger at a religious leader who deplored sin and hid his own weakness. Obviously we cannot expect a perfect society because of a change in our leaders. More than any other wish I have for Thanksgiving is a realistic plan to lessen the role of the United States in Iraq.
A memory from the past surprised me this month, when I discovered a letter addressed to my late husband, Jules, from a young Air Force pilot. The date on the envelope was Sept. 18, 1946. Good grief, that’s the year I met Jules, who left New York for UC Berkeley that very month. With the current war very much on my mind, I can imagine what these two young former Air Force men chatted about. The letter writer, Don Liljenquist, said, “There just isn’t anything like getting together with an old crew member and having a session about old times.”
His words left me with a lump in my throat. Last night I watched a nostalgic and proud program about the B-17 bomber, which was a noble plane used early in World War II. As I had heard before from Jules, the 100th Bomb Group flew many missions over Germany in daylight hours and lost hundreds of airmen. The Bloody 100th was held in the highest respect by the Air Force for their courage and absolute devotion to our country. I smiled at the last lines of Don’s letter: “I often think of the swell trip we had to Stuttgart and Paris. I wrote a story about the night we drove into Stuttgart and picked up the two little Frauleins.”
How I wish I could find that story. Apparently Don is (or was) a successful writer. I am trying to track him down. I didn’t know Jules during the war, and considering the pain of today’s wives and mothers with loved ones fighting for our country, I’m glad I was spared that knowledge.
Yes, the election is over, but the battle rages on. Here are the words of George Will in Newsweek: “One evening I accompanied a Humvee convoy of MPs through largely elite East Baghdad. The objective that evening was to patrol with Iraqi police, but the Iraqi lawmen are hesitant to be seen with Americans, whom they regard as IED (improvised explosive devices) magnets. The next night, an armor-piercing bomb hit the same squad. A sergeant with whom I had ridden the previous evening lost a leg; the gunner and driver suffered severe shrapnel wounds.
For what?”
Irony in wartime makes one wonder how to answer that question. I look forward to December.
Charlotte Kaye Jarmy
is a Los Altos resident and longtime contributor
to the Town Crier.
