A Veterans Day Letter

Dear Children and Grandchildren,

It’s Veterans Day. I want to share some of what I know about Papa Guz’s time of service.

While stateside, he and Mama Guz went for a while to Kansas;  another time he was in Georgia, and got to go to the 1942 Masters Golf Tournament. I still have the program.

He was in an Army Air Force unit whose mission was to fly glider planes behind enemy lines. He served in N. Africa, Sicily and Italy.   While in N Africa, he befriended a priest in the order of the “White Fathers”. The priest (“A. Weber”) was an artist, and he painted Papa Guz in uniform – a large one on canvas, and a smaller one on wood, both of which I still have.  Father Weber also painted the Stations of the Cross on wooden ovals. Papa Guz liked these; in his later years, I put these onto the wall leading up the stairs at home at Westover. I still have those also, along with several photos, letters, orders, etc at home.

Sixteen or so years ago, I went with Papa Guz to a reunion of his old WW II unit in Williamsburg, Va. He had lost touch with them, and they with him. They seemed really, genuinely glad to see one other again.   In the unit’s scrapbook the men had kept and updated, there was an old photo of Papa Guz and beside it, they had written, “Our beloved First Sergeant”. (Wow. “Our beloved First Sergeant.”)

I saw a photo in the unit scrapbook of Joe Louis – in a ring, sparring with some of their unit’s soldiers. They told me Papa Guz had sparred with Joe Louis – in fact he had been the first one to put on the gloves to spar with him. I asked why Dad was first, and they said, “Oh, John Guzi was a big guy!” (Would have given anything to see a photo of them.)  This night, Dad had gone back to our room early to rest because by that age he had a heart condition. I went back to the room and asked him about it.
“The guys said you sparred with Joe Louis.”
“Yeah.” (Like: no big deal. Just, “Yeah.”)
“Well, did you hit him?”
“Yeah, I hit him – but he didn’t go down.”

Later Papa Guz told me he knew he had an advantage, because if Joe Louis knocked him out, it would be bad for morale.

One of their guys told me about getting to Italy, and the first sergeant (Dad) taking him with him on an assignment. He thought, “Uh-Oh, what’d I do?” He came to find out the first sergeant was taking him to get him some furniture for him. He said he never forgot that.

One of the officers told me that Papa Guz’s unit was a good unit; there was never any discipline trouble with that unit. (Maybe some of those stories Papa Guz used to tell at family gatherings – highlights: taking on several guys….. another one about disciplining with a bull whip … – maybe they weren’t tall tales after all.)

One of the men – his mess sergeant, now from Memphis  - said he once snuck up behind Guzi and jokingly “washed his face with watermelon”. He said Papa Guz jumped up and chased him. The guy ran a while then tried to stop to dodge him. He said Dad tackled him, hard. He said he woke up in the hospital. (The mess sergeant’s story, not mine.)

Much more to know about Papa Guz, his fellow soldiers, his generation. Much you probably already know. Much more probably worth knowing. The men (and women) Tom Brokaw called The Greatest Generation. How they faced, fought and won the terrific, horrific, struggle of World War II. How they came back and went to work, never talked much about the war, and with modesty built the country and infrastructure and society for the life and freedoms we all enjoy but sometimes take for granted.

I am mindful also of Bob Slaughter, my Little League coach, who I would see on the bus I rode home from grade school, riding quietly in the back of the bus, who taught us how to play baseball, as The Raleigh Court Lions, together and well, winning the city championship when I was 12.

Turns out, Mr. Slaughter was one of the soldiers who went ashore at Normandy on D-Day. During a subsequent anniversary of D-Day, he visited with his compatriots to celebrate with them and grateful American and French countrymen and remember the ones who died there. Walked with President Clinton on Normandy Beach. Was interviewed by ABC for his remembrances. Has been part of several documentaries on the History Channel and other network channels.   Just worked at his job and quietly sat on the back of the bus and taught a bunch of kids how to play baseball together.

Mr. Slaughter also was the driving force in helping create the National D-Day Memorial (http://www.dday.org/) in Bedford, Va. ( In Bedford, because Bedford lost more young men on D-Day per capita than any other town in America.)

Driving force, with the help of others, to put something in place to honor the D-Day soldiers while there were still some living to be honored.  They served, fought, won, then worked and built and coached and taught and raised.

Then, and since, lots of men and women have given a lot, lots of times, for us. Like many of us, I haven’t spent the time paying tribute to them on Veterans Day like I should.

But I know what many have done, and given, and just wanted to share a small tribute to them with you today.

Love,
Dad