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Jim Fabiano, a teacher and writer, lives in York.
The school day started like all school days are supposed to start. The bell rings and everyone is asked to stand to recite the “Pledge of Allegiance.” Every year fewer students stand and most recite nothing. I ask them to stand in order to honor the men and women of our nation who lost their lives in order to give us what we have today.
The other day a young woman told me that I had no right to ask her to stand. She told me that she was a pacifist and that any inference to nationalism should not be respected. The class became quiet wondering how I would react to this newest of rebellions.
I told my class to listen to a story that I was told when I was very young. It concerned a man and a war. The class stayed quiet and attentive realizing that what I was about to tell them was important to me and could be important to them. Even the young woman who began the rebellion decided that it was important to let me speak.
I started out by describing a young man who was a fine athlete. He was a varsity football and basketball captain at the University of Vermont. In 1941, he played second base for Montpelier in the Northern League. But, then World War II exploded on our nation, and like most other young men and women of that time, he decided to defend his country.
He became a radioman for the U.S. Navy, and he then covered a lot of territory for a young man who had not been out of New England. His first trip took him to Casablanca and Gibraltar. Off Gibraltar his ship and convoy were scheduled for England loaded with phosphorus. During the journey his ship lost the convoy in the upper North Sea and was spotted by a German scout. Everyone on board thought the war had ended for them when a patrol of Royal Air Force fighter planes guided them back to the convoy. They made it to London where he promptly ran into his first air raid.
The ship then went into the Mediterranean Sea unloading munitions and other war supplies. Booby traps were everywhere. Enemy snipers were everywhere.
Everyone in my room was now intently listening to my story. They also seemed a bit perplexed because they did not understand how I knew this particular story so well.
The ship now filled with American soldiers headed toward a place called Salerno in Italy. That night planes swarmed over in the blackness heading toward the Gulf of Salerno. Whether friend or enemy no one knew.
In the early morning the ship traveled up the Gulf of Salerno. Looking out at the ocean, our hero watched a plane overhead. He then noticed a flaming dart leave the plane. It whistled down and hit the ship in front of his, literally splitting it in two.
Men shouted and waved in the water. Some floated silently. Many went down with the ship. Small rescue crafts picked up as many as they could. In the white sands the Germans were waiting and the Americans were being driven back toward the beach. Many on the ship were handed guns and told to go ashore in an attempt to turn the tide.
Pale faced men spoke grimly of another Dunkirk. Then, a huge flight of bombers came out of the morning sun. They were American. All of the men on the ship cheered as they heard the planes drop their bombs on the German positions.
That night the enemy started going after the cruisers. Our hero on watch saw a flaming plane, its pilot fighting for control, falling toward his ship. It came close enough to make him crouch on the deck and it hit the water beneath him with a hissing roar. That night, a British battleship and the British army also came in to help out the Americans.
The ship finally left the beaches of Salerno Bay with wounded and with survivors of the battle that had just taken place. The ship was also tired like its crew with its plates bent and bombs exhausted. But, she was still seaworthy and headed for home.
Our hero will never forget the memories of his time at Salerno Bay. His most vivid memory will always be the faces of American soldiers, his friends and neighbors, smiling as they went into action and possible death. He calls it courage in the face of hopelessness.
At the end of the story, my class was very quiet. The young woman who refused to recite “The Pledge of Allegiance” broke the silence by asking me how I knew so much about this man. I smiled and told her that he was my father.
After that time none of my students ever refused to stand up to recite “The Pledge of Allegiance” that should always start all of our days. For who dares to forget the heroes that made all of our lives possible.
