Honoring Our Veterans – and My Grandfather

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On Veteran’s Day in the United States, we honor people who have served in the military. As someone with anti-war sentiments who disagreed with political decisions like the invasion of Iraq earlier this century, I have the utmost respect for people who have served the country. It was not their decision to start a war, and they followed their convictions (or, in the distant past, were conscripted). It’s very honorable and so many have sacrificed so much for us.

I wish we treated our veterans better, too. I know they are provided with free health care under the VA, and other things, but every time I hear about homeless veterans, my heart breaks a little and I feel disgusted. We really need to do more for them. There is simply no excuse for any veteran to be on the streets and not receiving the proper PTSD treatment, or other medical or psychological care. OK, off of my soapbox for now.

My grandfather’s story

Today, I want to honor all veterans, but especially my grandfather, Richard Morris. He was my mom’s father and fought in World War 2. He was also a very creative person, a prolific writer, and always took a stand against corruption and hypocrisy. He was also a descendant (as I am) of one of the original signers of the Declaration of Independence, Lewis Morris.

He entered the war in North Africa as a part of General Patton’s army. They proceeded to invade Italy via Sicily. He was eventually captured by the Nazis and became a prisoner of war. On a train headed to a prison camp for allied troops in Germany, however, he escaped! He jumped off the train in Tuscany and escaped to a village in Val d’Orcia, which is an area near Siena that is rich in farmland. He lived off of the land there and was helped by an American woman, who eventually became a countess, after marrying an Italian count. He wrote a book about it, which my mother and I will eventually get into an electronic version, as his story really should be published.

When the war ended, he made it home and was celebrated as a decorated war hero. The next part of his story adds an interesting twist. It was very fashionable at the time among artists, actors, and other creative types to join the American Communist Party, so he did so for a brief time. As this was during the McCarthy era and the “Red Scare,” he was dishonored by the government, had his medals stripped from him, and an FBI file was created under his name. This really bothered me when I learned about this many decades later as a young teen. It should be anyone’s right to have whatever views they want. I don’t know how long he remained as a member, but eventually he and most people moved on. The experience definitely contributed to his viewpoints on politics and life.

The U.S. government eventually apologized to him and returned his medals years later. As long as he was alive, I always admired his bravery, courage of conviction, and his opposition to hypocrisy. In fact, at his funeral, several relatives mentioned how hypocrisy was what bothered him the most in life. He also had a really vibrant spirit, dancing and always making new friends, even as an elderly man.

This Veteran’s Day, I honor him, along with all others who have served in the military. They deserve a lot more support, love, and respect.

I miss you, Grandpa Morris.