Many people ask me why I read alot of War books. I can never really tell them why though as it’s hard to explain.
Basically it comes down to destressing me. Much the same as I like to sit on my stone in the highlands and realise that the hills had seen far more than I ever would and that my problems were miniscule in comparison. So it is with my war books, more specifically the WWII books. How can you be scared of something when you realise what these men and woman went through?
“Father Joe Lacy was on the beach, tending to teh the wounded. Lacy was described by one ranger as a ‘small, fat, old Irishman.” The rangers had insisted that he could never keep up with them in combat, but he insisted on coming along. Onthe transport on the night of June 5-6, he told the rangers, “When you land on the beach and you get in there, I don’t want to see anybody kneeling down and praying. If I do I’m going to come up and boot you in the tail. You leave the praying to me and you do the fighting.’
On the beach, men saw Father Lacy ‘go down to the water’s edge and pull the dead, dying and wounded from the water and put them in relatively protected positions. He didn’t stop at that, but prayed for them and with them, gave comfort to the wounded and dying.”
There are many stories like that but this was the one I read about this morning. And that wasn’t no ordinary beach…it was at Omaha beach during the Normandy invasions…going on what I’ve read Saving Private Ryan came nowhere near what actually happened despite it being the closest anyones came to being authentic…