Conversations and Lessons from World War II
Two of many lessons I learned from my World War II Army Veteran grandfather before I realized what I was learning, in honor of Veterans Day 2025
Sicilian Immigrant Roots on the Eve of WW2
My grandpa Charles LaMark went through his life with grit, a sense of humor and a very soft spot for animals. When I was growing up, I didn’t typically didn’t see my grandpa coming - I heard him. He had a very resonant voice as a Sicilian, and usually had some tale about the day to share with my grandma or mom when he would come over for a morning coffee or to spontaneously cook dinner.
He was a railroad worker, a mason, a pizza shop manager, storyteller, lover of cats and small dogs but on this day, most importantly, he was a veteran. The storyteller part helped me to remember his time as a veteran.
He grew up in Barnesboro, Pennsylvania as the son of a coalminer. The Great Depression was particularly hard on the LaMark and LaMagna families. My grandpa remembered nights with the family sleeping around the woodstove in the kitchen; wind would whip through the wooden slats into the home during the harsh mountain winters. A blanket would suffice but a kitten on his lap helped stave off the bitter cold.
In Sicilian fashion, he came from a large family, and government assistance was not a luxury bestowed upon anyone suffering through the Great Depression. My grandpa worked in the local movie theatre to help out, quitting school at the age of 12, spending his time watching the films in the theatre - the scenes took his mind off of the every day struggles of the time.
From Barnesboro to Europe: A Man Caught in World War II
But then - World War II broke out. Young men were being drafted into the war effort - however, my grandpa, being the oldest of his immediate family, was able to be exempt. My grandpa chose to sign up anyway, and he was off to training.
Some American kids of the ‘70s, ‘80s and ‘90s don’t aways remember their grandfathers and grandmothers talking about their involvement in World War II. This was not my story growing up - just about every day, before I could really process or understand what it was I was even hearing, my mornings with grandpa were shaped by his time spent in Europe as a sergeant in the Army as a cook and a medic.
These aren’t all the stories that my grandfather told me, but later, I revisit stories not realizing what they were teaching me before I could understand. Five year old Annette was learning about the Normandy beach landings and the abject desolation and destruction in the European theatre of World War II, whether she liked it or not, donned in her least favorite Elmo themed nightgown, with itchy elastic around my wrists, on a Saturday morning while eating a bowl of Cheerios.
Here’s a few of the stories I remember on this day, and the lessons they taught me that I didn’t realize, that I am grateful to have heard over and over and over again…
A Bike Ride in Normandy
My grandfather got through training in the Southern states before deploying to the European theatre during World War II - he had told us often he didn’t remember getting off of the amphibious vehicle while arriving to Normandy on June 7, 1944.
Needless to say, he saw many horrific sights on the beaches - endless death, destruction, young American men lost. He said this is where the real heroes lie, all over the beaches of Normandy - he did not consider himself one.
He couldn’t remember how he departed the amphibious vehicle and getting onto the beach - but he did remember such a striking contrast from the death and destruction he saw on the sands of those beaches, when he looked up, and saw a young woman on a bicycle riding past. Calm, peaceful, serene - seemingly unaffected by the death below. He said he always remembered that and couldn’t understand how someone could be riding their bicycle past all that carnage, especially a young woman.
I think back on this story now and think of how the contrast struck my grandpa, and I think I can see why that contrast seemed so crazy - cruel, even, to think that: Life continues on - routines continue, people move on, despite destruction, despite desolation - there are jobs to do, places to go. It may seem heartless at points, but we have to continue on.
A New Pair of German Boots
I remember this story quite a number of times, but it was also one that my grandpa particularly I think got a bit of a chuckle from, by way of the sheer chaos minion behavior, that he would often recount while my sister and I shared if we got a new pair of shoes that we were happy to show off.
One day during his time in France, after one of the battles with various bodies strewn about from both Nazi soldiers and Americans alike, a fellow American soldier asked my grandpa where he could get a good pair of German boots from the battlefield that he himself could wear. I infer that it was common to take articles of clothing and weapons from the dead bodies of soldiers, at least from what my grandpa shared.
I can see my grandpa in my minds eye, giving the guy some side eye, and working on a good comeback before he even thought to answer:
“Eh? A good pair of German boots is what you want?” My grandpa replied.
“Yeah! Say, where can I get a pair? You know where I can find some?” The guy asked, becoming even more excited at the prospect of a good pair of German manufactured boots, highest quality as the world had come to expect.
“Yeah, sure, there’s a good pair of German boots -” He motioned outwards toward the battlefield, pausing, before delivering the most brutal punchline known to man:
“You just gotta take the feet out of them first.”
My grandpa always ended this story with an uproarious chuckle, my sister cringing and groaning “eww” and me just staring at my grandpa wide eyed, and trying to understand how a pair of feet could still be in the shoes, but not understanding where the entire man connected to the shoes went.
This taught me that fashion isn’t life or death - but having a sense of humor is. My grandpa carried this somewhat chaotic sense of humor as a coping mechanism for processing some of the most horrific carnage the world had ever seen up until then.
Sometimes people ask where my sense of humor comes from, and how I got through some pretty rough life circumstances myself (none of us are immune), but I learned from a young age that you have to find a way to laugh at some of the most awful things in life you will experience or see - or you’ll go mad.
It’s also definitely made me much less concerned about getting a second hand pair of lightly worn shoes as well.
Grateful for a Veterans Service and lessons
It’s odd, in a way, coming back to these memories year after year as I get older. I’m grateful my strange little kid mind paid attention to these seemingly uninteresting non-cartoon related stories that my grandpa would tell.
I don’t know why I paid attention, but now, at this age, I’m glad I did. He didn’t have to serve in World War II, he had an exemption. I also didn’t have to listen to his stories, it’s certainly not expected of a five year old. But I’m grateful I somehow did, and I’m grateful that he served our country.
Thank you for reading and thank a veteran for their service. It’s not something we care about nearly as much as we used to in the United States, but that should change. Thank a veteran today, talk to them, and see what lessons you can also learn.
