My Father, A World War, And A Life Without Fear.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Most people think of fear as being a common thing, and that may be true, but from a very early age I realized something about myself, I was not afraid of bad situations.
I do not know if I had a normal life as a child. As a kid I loved my father, and he was a disabled World War 2 front line sergeant that experienced fighting in close quarters combat. World War 2 did a number on him. I will always be proud of my father's courage, and bravery, even though the war came home with him .
When I was a little boy I watched my father from a barely opened bedroom door in my bare feet with only my small under briefs on . My older brother could not sleep. My mother could not sleep, and neither could I. My father talked to himself, but he was quite loud. He would always say that we were all no good . I know he did not mean it, because that was only his troubled mind talking speaking to him . Never the less we all took years of his abuse. My brother, and I were depressed kids, but my brother was older than I. He was stronger than I in some respects. My brother was very intelligent. I learned a lot from him. He talked about great writers, the classic writers. His entire room was actually a library of hard bound books, and he read them all .He described stories like A tale of Two cities, and books written by Edgar Allen Poe, Aristotle, Emerson, and Walden, and many more writers. He read Tom Sawyer, and Huckleberry Finn to me ,and described Christopher Columbus, explorers, and travelers, inventors, and discussed literature, and it all never ended. My brother talked about journeys , and adventures by Captain Ne mo. He talked about science, and science fiction, and how wonderful it would be to see all the Heaven;y bodies in space. My brother would read, and study, and we would talk about the unknown, and share our speculations with each other. My brother loved science fiction. The air he breathed was filled with knowledge, and science, and he shared what he could of it with me. My brother even helped me with my homework when I needed math help, or help with other courses. In a way my brother was the way our father should have been . When I was little boy my brother would wrestle with me a lot to teach me how to defend myself. He was a very good fighter in hand to hand wrestling, and so was I.
My big brother talked about the stars, the universe, the galaxies and told me stories about fantasy characters that traveled ions into space in ships that marveled the Heavens. We would escape our reality with knowledge.
We had to fight dad constantly every day. I was a squirt , but when my brother, mom, and I fought him , that was our way of taking down a man governed by troubled emotions , and we tried hard to bring him back to reality over, and over, and over again. We had horrible fights, we wrestled him down, and sometimes we screamed, and yelled every night of every day for what seemed like years. I felt awful as a boy, and I know we did not like what we had to do to control dad. If we were nice to him he would think we were up to something no good . The only way we could live with him was by acting like we would hurt him if he forced us too. There was absolutely no way that we could be nice to him. Dad smacked his food like he was angry, and full of hate . To have to be mean to your own father is a rotten lousy feeling. If we were nice , he would devour us alive. He could get to the point to where he would come close to attacking us. My brother, and I would wrestle him to the floor. We would never hit him unless it was absolutely necessary, but we would yell, and scream at him as if that might help, but his mind was impossible to penetrate. You could see hate, anger, and rage in his eyes.
Everyone that knew us, understood that my father had to be controlled.
Before the war my father was a , tall gentleman who had a normal smiles. My mother in every single one of their photos was happy, and glowing. I know what it feels like when something destroys the essence of what my family loved. My dad held my infant brother in his arms like a loving father would. We did not have a father to teach us a trade, or play baseball with us because those kind of fathers did not experience the bloody battle fields. Some men from the war walked like they were the living dead in the mental hospitals, but our dad had us to try our best to give him a half decent life.
Sometimes dad would come close to hitting mom, but we would always stop him before he got out of hand. I had a complete education in understanding psychological emotions by dealing with my father. Maybe that helped me to disarm criminals that had rifles , and firearms later in life. My brother was a psychology graduate. He knew a lot about dad's problems. Dad was paranoid, extremely paranoid , and did not trust us . And he would have conversations with soldiers in his bedroom. He would salute captains, or other officers that were only in his mind .
The VA medical doctors said that he could be dangerous so we should never keep guns in the house. They wanted to put him away in and institution , but I told the doctors that he would die in a mental hospital because he loved the outdoors. He loved fishing, hunting , and the cool wind, and fresh air. I was only six when I told the doctors what dad really needed . My father needed the love of his family. My father needed rides to rivers where he could swim , and fish, and camp , and to get away from war memories. You cannot run away from you're mind, but God's gift of nature has helped the most troubled of us. Mom, and I always took dad fishing. We would drop him off near rivers where he would escape his own personal horrors of the war. I can say this with great pride. We always took care of him until the day he died.
Dad loved us. He loved us all, but the war did a job on his mind . I think it was the blood , and gore of the war that I best not talk about that troubled dad.His friends in combat were killed which might have troubled his mind. The bombs, explosives all destroyed his hearing. We had to talk loud for him to hear us. Many people were killed by the war. Our lives were in a real way like a holocaust. I felt in many ways, empty, and dead inside when dad had his lost mind. My brother, and I would often think about dreary, and hopeless things while our father cursed anything, and everything. It was bad on our nerves too. He would start gradually talking to himself, and his voice , and emotions would grow louder, and stronger until his points of no return. And then we would have to fight our father to calm him down.
I did have toys, and it felt like Heaven to get lost in that world, on the floor with plastic cowboys, and Indians. The fun of a toy stage coach was like a trip to a marvelous land. They was something I could get lost in.
I have no fears. My life was all about violence. One of my best friends took his own life with a double barreled twelve gauge shotgun. In many ways I had a skill to be mechanical like a smooth running engine in times of terrible circumstances. In high speed pursuits, and in activities that involved law enforcement I was as cool as could be even in disasters.
I want go into all the details. Maybe I was the prime candidate to wear a badge, and uniform . I knew what I never liked, and that was violence. I knew all about what hate, and wars, and what violence could do to people.
There were many things that I can not begin to talk about. Joann, the young girl who became my wife did not have and easy life . She had a brother, and two sisters living with different relatives because her mother, and father were divorced.
Joann, and I were made for each other. We fell in love very easily.
Maybe I was meant to wear a badge. Maybe it was my destiny to put my life in constant danger . There are a few very important things I learned about really bad situations, and that is that there is a light at the end of a tunnel.
I was not afraid of anything because I felt really terrible inside after Becky was born crippled also. I should have found safe work, but I was good at law enforcement. I was very good at it. My only regrets were that I never got a chance to face enough of the most dangerous criminals that should never have been born on earth.
Adrenalin is what you experience when your body is prepared to be struck by bullets, or obliterated by explosives . I felt it when I was right beside a burning eighteen wheeler about to explode. The adrenalin races threw you're body like swift lightening , and you're on top of the world like something as formidable as King Kong . You're ready for you're body to be vaporized , or torn to bits by exploding fuel. I was throwing buckets of water on massive burning tires under a massive volatile propane tank. I called a safety team. Firefighters by the dozens came like lightening to help extinguish the flames. If the truck would have blown up, the explosion would have destroyed the fuel loading racks of a refinery. The chain reaction in the internal workings of the refinery would have caused enough explosions to devastate a portion of a city. Some things are definitely worth dying for.
There is a wonderful glory, and beauty in watching brave people fight for life. Bravery is the wonderful gift that God blesses the best of people with. There is a unique joy in seeing men, or women rushing about to face horrid situations to save lives. Bravery , and loyalty, goodness, and honesty are best perks of love.
That was one really heck of a profound feeling . There are not many trucks that will not explode when there loaded with fuel, and on fire. I believe in God. I asked God for help because I knew the situation was hopeless. That is what I was best at, being in hopeless situations. God is what makes impossible situations possible.
Life is like a dream in a way. My father did the best he could. I never held anything against him because he was the bravest man I ever knew in my life. I understood him from a very young age.
All you can ever do about anything in this world is the best you can. Do the best you can, and God will never abandon you in the worst of times no matter how hopeless you think they are. You will be honored by the grace of God in the most difficult times if you call out for God's help to save the lives of others, or you're loved ones.
God can really do many impossible things. Whether you have faith, or not, call out to God if you need help, and you will often find out more than you ever thought possible.
God Bless Everyone.