Dog Hero: Gander

During my research on WWII, I came across this and thought it was worth passing on. Just amazing what a loyal dog will do. ~Karen


Gander the War Hero

Gander, formerly named Pal, was acquired as mascot, by the Royal Rifles of Canada, who were stationed in Gander, Newfoundland during WW2. ('Pal' had accidentally scratched a child and his owners, upset by the incident, offered him to the Royal Rifles.)

In 1941, during the Second World War, The Royal Rifles of Canada were sent, along with Gander, to Hong Kong Island to defend the island against Japanese attacks.

On one occasion, Gander charged Japanese soldiers as they were approaching some wounded Canadian soldiers; most likely saving the soldiers' lives.

Gander's final act of bravery cost him his own life, but saved the lives of the men he was with. It occurred on Dec 19, 1941, during the Battle of Lye Mun on Hong Kong Island. During a Japanese attack, Gander picked up a grenade that had landed next to a group of soldiers and carried it away. The grenade exploded, instantly killing Gander.

The Dickin Award, instituted in 1943 by Maria Dicken founder of People's Dispensary for Sick Animals, is an award for any animal 'displaying conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty whilst serving with British Commonwealth armed forces or civil emergency services.' It is recognized as the animal's Victoria Cross.

Gander was posthumously awarded the Dickin Medal on October 27, 2000.

The citation on the medal reads as follows:

For saving the lives of Canadian Infantrymen during the Battle of Lye Mun on Hong Kong Island in December 1941. On three documented occasions “Gander” the Newfoundland mascot of the Royal Rifles of Canada engaged the enemy as his regiment joined the Winnipeg Grenadiers, members of Battalion Headquarters “C” Force and other Commonwealth troops in their courageous defence of the Island. Twice “Gander’s” attacks halted the enemy’s advance and protected groups of wounded soldiers. In a final act of bravery the war dog was killed in action gathering a grenade. Without “Gander’s” intervention many more lives would have been lost in the assault.

Gander's medal is on permanent display in the Hong Kong section of the Canadian War Museum.

source: http://www.newfoundlanddog.ca/gander-canadian-war-hero.htm

Time in a Film Canister

The grandchildren of recently deceased Englewood,Colorado man found "time in a bottle" after his passing. But in this case it was time in three old film canisters. As Brian Williams reports here; http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/3032619/#27650485 they had the film developed and on it were black and white scenes of dogfights over the French and German countryside. The film is of very good quality and gives a never before seen glimpse of this part of the war.

But there's something missing (as far as I'm concerned anyway. What was the film makers story? Why didn't he share the footage with his children and grandchildren while he was still alive? Where was it stored? What was the story?

So many WWII veterans pass away before telling their story. This story really brings home what seems to be happening more and more. If you know a veteran of WWII, please, please...take the time to hear their story. And then go one step further; write it down. It saddens me to think that this man, who I hope led a wonderful and fulfilled life, didn't share what was behind the lens of the camera before the story was gone forever. So please-take time today, won't you?

Happy Birthday Marines

The Marine Corp was formed on November 10, 1775. Why would someone like me know something like that? Why would I even care? Well, history is far more interesting when you know someone who lived it. My father was a Navy man. He served time during WWII on ships and submarines. But his work in Naval Intelligence, was spent "attached" to the 5th Marines.

So when he invited me to the Marine birthday party, which is essentially a Marine reunion, I agreed to go. My husband is a former Marine and I even convinced my two sons to go. Sitting at a table with my family, were two strangers; women whose husbands were marines, and I realized that it's not just the Marines themselves who feel that comradaree, but the families too. Soon we were talking with each other like long-lost friends.

As we finished up our meal of Swiss steak, potatoes, rolls, brocolli and salad, the program portion of the celebration began. Each Marine was handed a small microphone; they told about their time during the service. I noticed something interesting. The older the veteran, the longer they talked. Why might this be, I wondered. Could it be that the older the veteran, the less likely they have someone who wants to listen to their war stories of long ago? Might this be their only opportunity to remind others of their adventures in the service; their joys, their sorrows, and even a few funny stories? I hope that's not true, but I'm afraid it just may be.

So this Veteran's Day, find a veteran and give them the time to tell their story. Do as they were trained to do; don't avert your eyes; don't look at your watch. Listen---really listen. You just may be giving them one last opportunity to tell their story. It is a gift you give to each other.

photo by Karen L. Alaniz

Wednesdays with Murray - Final Edits

When I picked up Dad this morning, he was in the middle to retelling his harrowing tale about his friend dying in his arms. What caught my attention was the hopeless he feels at the prospect of never having a document to hold that verifies his story. Because he was told that records would not be kept of his naval intelligence work, he really doesn't have any hope that we'll be able to get ahold of records concerning it, no matter how detailed our request is. And maybe he's right, but I hope not.

This morning at breakfast, I brought the paperwork that we started filling out together. Two pages of instructions for one page of filled out form. The branch of service and years the veteran was in the service, determine where you will send your request. I also brought my laptop so I could have Dad read through the letter I wrote to attach to it (we didn't do that last time). I wrote the letter as if he was writing it. I wanted to be sure it was correct.

I left a long blank where there was information I didn't know. One of those blanks was for an injury he sustained. He was sitting on a box of ammunition (I know, crazy-huh?), on the deck of a ship when a Kamikaze hit the water nearby and shrapnel flew through the air. One sharp piece imbedded itself and stuck between my dad's legs. Instinctively, he pulled it out. But it was flaming hot and burned his finger. I remember the scar well. It actually looks like a boomerang shaped tatoo. I suppose soot or something got into the open wound, leaving not a raised scar, but a blue-black one on one of his fingers. In the letter, I sited the incident and asked for medical records concerning it. But I couldn't remember which hand it was.

Dad was reading the letter on my computer when I raised my camera to take a few photos. The one below just happened to be snapped when he said, "It was my left hand."

Anyway- I'm using my WORLD WAR II-A VISUAL ENCYCLOPEDIA http://www.powells.com/cgi-bin/biblio?isbn=9781855858787&atch=h&utm_content=You%20Might%20Also%20Like edited by John Keegan as a reference for dates of Iwo Jima and Okinawa, as well as a few other things that we are unsure of.

And now we wait and hope (again). If this doesn't work and we again get general records that have no specifics at all, I will look into who I can get to help us. Problem is, Dad does NOT want to go to the V.A. for any reason, and that seems the most logical next step. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's just hope and pray that my letter gets into the hands of someone who cares and wants to spend the time finding what we request. ~Karen

A Chance Meeting- A Powerful Lesson

photo: my front porch where stories are told

We had a low key 4th of July this year. The city park is right across the street. So we made our usual rounds to the many booths set up there. The only thing I bought was a Hawaiian Shave Ice (bubble gum flavored, of course).

Later in the evening, my parents came over for Millionaire Pie (see recipe below). As we sat visiting, my dad told about his day at the park. His story brought tears to my eyes and I really believe it's worth repeating. What a lesson for parents, and for children.

As my father sat eating his lunch, a man with his four little boys passed by. The young dad smiled and said, "Hi." He walked a few steps and then turned and walked back to my father. His little boys followed behind him, looking bewildered. My father's WWII cap had caught his eye and he asked if Dad had been in the war.

After a short conversation, the man turned his attention to his children. He explained what it means to be a veteran. Then with their father's encouragement, the little boys each put their little hand out to shake my dad's. And along with the handshake, each little voice said two powerful words, "Thank You." Last in the line was a little boy of about five.

"Did you get hurt?" he asked innocently.

"Just a little," my father replied.

I am sure that the father of those little boys changed the course of his children's lives forever. We'll never know the story behind it, but suffice to say, six people left that short moment in time, changed.

As the daughter of a WWII veteran, I can't tell you how many prayers have been lifted for my father. Sometimes God's answers don't come with a lightening bolt and a booming voice from heaven. Sometimes His answers are far more powerful than that-like this day when the answer came in the form of a small child.

If you see a veteran, please don't pass by. Your words could be the answer. ~Karen

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I always find it interesting how foods become forever entwined with memories. This particular story was told to me over Millionaire Pie. So just for fun, here's the recipe;

Millionaire Pie

Mix together:

8 oz cream cheese (softened)

1 cup granulated sugar

1- 20 oz can crushed pineapple (drained)

1- 8 oz container Cool Whip

Pour into graham cracker crust and freeze. Enjoy!

Wednesdays with Murray - Sending for Military Records

photo: military records form

I just love filling out forms, don't you? Yeah. I'd rather have a tooth pulled. OK, well maybe it's not quite that bad, but you know what I mean. A few years ago, at the prodding of my sisters and I, my dad finally sent for his military records. And then we waited. And waited. And waited some more. Almost a year later, the envelope arrived. I was hoping for some confirmation for my dad. He was beginning to feel like he hadn't experienced what he had. He was starting to feel like perhaps he was crazy. Unless you are a veteran, particularly of a war that was so long ago, I think it's really hard to understand. My dad was now suffering with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He was plagued with nightmares and flashbacks. Still, he was feeling like maybe he hadn't experienced what he had during the war.

My solution was to send for his military records. When he saw it in writing, it would confirm that he was indeed in the war and was not imagining it. It would validate his feelings and his experience...something we all need. However, when he opened that envelope, that is not what happened.

His records showed that he was in the military, but that's about it. Many important details were left out. There were no medical records, no naval intelligence records, and no mention of the important battles he was a part of. I was disappointed for myself. I really wanted that information to use in my book. But mostly I felt bad for Dad. For him, it validated all the wrong feelings. But we'd done what they said. We'd filled out the forms as asked. I'd printed carefully and made sure every question had an answer. Still, when we received the records, it was as if they barely acknowledged my father was in the war.

A few years passed and recently I learned something helpful. I was on a website called Access Geneology. They have a page on obtaining military records. As I read, I had "lightbulb moment." I read that you must send enough information to help them identify your military records from among the 70 million contained there. 70 million? I don't know what I was thinking, but I definitely wasn't thinking 70 million. Many sites dedicated to help veterans obtain records, recommend the same thing. Be specific.

So this time, we are sending the same form, but with one significant change. On line two there is a space that says, "Other information and/or documents requested." Instead of trying to fit in everything on those two and a half lines, I will be attaching a type-written letter, which will include specifics about where my father was and when. Names, dates, and anything else that makes your record stand out from among 70 million is what's important. It's important to remember that the person opening your records request, knows nothing about you unless you tell them. If you are requesting medical records, include anything and everything you remember about your health care while in the military. Don't forget to request optical, dental, psychiatric, and any others you want copies of.

I am hoping that this time around, we will get a more accurate and more comprehensive look at my father's time in the service. But most of all, I hope that it will give my dad some peace of mind. The hardest part is the waiting. But time passes no matter what you do or don't do. ~Karen

Reference: http://www.accessmilitary.com/military/nprc.htm.

New Blog Feature - Wednesdays with Murray

The year was 2001 and the tradition started as all traditions do, without anyone being aware it was starting. My father had just given me more than 400 pages of letters he wrote to his folks during the war. Many were hand-written, the rest were typed. And though I thought I'd heard all of my father's war stories, the letters provided more questions than answers. Ultimately, I would learn that I hadn't heard the whole story at all.

My father told his three girls his war stories over and over throughout our childhood. But now, with letters in hand, something wasn't adding up. Something wasn't fitting. Something was wrong. So when Dad asked me out to lunch one day, I brought a couple of the letters with me. I began asking questions over chicken enchilada soup, one week at a time. The answers came haltingly, slowly, and sometimes they didn't come at all.

Hard to believe it has been seven years since the tradition began. It started as a simple quest to find the truth, to put the missing puzzle piece of my family history into its proper place. Over time, it became a book. BREAKING THE CODE-A DAUGHTER'S JOURNEY is the result. But our weekly lunch together didn't stop there. When I left my job as a teacher, we switched from meeting for lunch to meeting for breakfast.

Mr. Eds is a local diner. Other than a few times when there are lots of tourists in town, this is one of those places that always offers local flavor and I'm not just talking about the food. Dad still insists on paying for my breakfast. At first he said he'd pay for mine until I got published, but when I was published in a magazine for the first time, he decided he'd pay until I get a BOOK published. We split an eggs Benedict with extra sauce on the side (for him) every week. The cook knows us and starts cooking it when he sees us pull into the parking lot. It's nice to be known like that (every now and then we order something different just to throw him off).

So today, I am announcing a new blog feature called, "Wednesdays with Murray." Every Wednesday, I'll share with you, my readers, something about our time together. Whether it has to do with the war, the book, or a simple musing about a father and a daughter spending time together - you'll find it here every Wednesday.

Photo (courtesy of our waitress): Elvis poses with Dad and me.

I hope you enjoy this new feature. And please don't forget to...WRITE NOW-because it truly is later than you think. ~Karen