An Uncle's Tribute

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A Soldier Far From Home [Place your cursor on each photo and "click" to discover information about the Battle of the Bulge.  (Click on Buford's photo for a special surprise - music he would have enjoyed during the war years.)]
A Priceless Moment Shared With An Uncle I always knew my Uncle Buford was tough as nails.   Stationed in Europe during WWII, I figured he had seen just about every unpleasant, heart-breaking situation that a man of his generation could witness.  And yet I was always amazed at his sense of humor and intense passion for life.  Along with all my other uncles, Buford was a hero.  However, there was one time I unexpectedly saw him cry.     After telling me a story late one evening about an incident he had been involved in during the Battle of the Bulge, I sat down and privately wrote a poem.  Quickly finishing the last line, I knew that I would probably wake him up, but I couldn't wait until morning before sharing the words.  Although noticeably tired, he was more than eager to hear what I had written.  Voice breaking with emotion, I struggle with each line..., not wanting to appear weak in front of my idol.  Then suddenly looking up, I saw tears running down his face...  "Wow!" I thought, "Tough guys cry too!" My poem of tribute to an uncle I loved was a special moment we both shared.
A Mother's Christmas Prayer Brooding o’er a pitted field, The evening sun dimly stood. While deep within a twilight valley Death erupted from the dismal woods. A line of battle had been established Against a foe yet unseen, Who crept beneath the rise of timber That overlooked a field of green.
In groups, the men had been assembled, Wave on wave, to take the grove. But their valiant efforts soon were shattered. For against a wall of gunfire they vainly strove. How strange a fate on the eve of Christmas To stand behind an old, rock wall And watch the plight of friends and strangers As they stopped their march to stoop and fall.
No angel’s voice was heard that evening, Ringing o’er the rolling plains. Christmas Eve was ushered forward By bursts of gunfire and cries of pain. As gunshots echoed across the valley Now strewn with bodies and debris, In another world, a gray-haired warrior Bravely struggled on this Holy Eve.
Within a dim and quiet chamber A little mother bent to pray For the safety of her absent son Caught in some battle on Christmas Day. With words so soft and faith so gentle, She stormed God’s Throne as she knelt. And there beside a rusty bedstead, She waged a war the angels felt.
While the foe lurked in safe seclusion And battered the dark, Belgian hills, Heaven moved from its foundation In response to a mother’s will. Early on Christmas morning Word soon spread along the wall, “No longer will assaults be needed, For upon the forest our shells now fall!”
Blazing deep within the woodland The blasts of flame could clear be seen. The valley trembled with its thunder As stumps stood where trees had been. Crushed beneath a fist of iron The Fuhrer’s mangled defenses lay. But was the battle won while the shells were falling Or had it been when the mother prayed? Edwin
Tribute For Those We Never Knew... Thank God!  Buford came back from the war to continue his life here in the states.  Having the opportunity to experience the joy our uncle added to life enriched us immeasurably.  Unfortunately, countless millions were not as lucky.......   An old man who lost the crowning glory of the boy who called him "dad," a mother who would never again know the embrace of her son, siblings robbed of the joy their brother brought, a wife devoid of her husband's passionate kiss, children denied the father they never knew, nieces and nephews who were much poorer now that their uncle was gone.... All of these individuals are our heroes, called upon to pay the ultimate price for universal Freedom.  To these brave, enduring souls we tip our hats..., we bow our heads.  To these same individuals, I'm sure Uncle Buford would also ask us to say....., "Thanks!"