On June 6, 2008, we will build on the legacy of the courage of D-day.
While we will be meeting at the end of Ocean Park Blvd., in Santa Monica, CA, we invite everyone to "storm" their local beach, and at 12 noon PST, we will take 10 minutes to pray for peace worldwide.
A Stranger on the Street
Greenwich Village in New York City is a maze of streets intertwining with a vague idea of something the early settlers understood. Today the quaint streets are much the same although the immigrant population differs with each new generation.
People are drawn to New York for many reasons, and Poppa loved the city because of the theatre. He truly loved the anonymity of the city, a place so densely populated that one could easily remain secluded in their tiny overpriced apartment. If you were so blessed to have found New York in the rent control days, then you were indeed one of the "in" crowd: an inexpensive apartment.
Tenth Street in the West Village was a jewel of a location, and Poppa found his apartment on Patchin Place in the late 1950’s. In those days, the $79 dollars a month was just barely affordable to my parents, but they made do. By the year 2000, his rent was just under $400. a month, a blessing for a senior on a fixed income.
In the spring of 1996, fifty-two years after D-day, Poppa was crossing Sixth Avenue on his way to the Post office, when a voice on the other side of the avenue called out his name. "Elek? Elek Hartman!"
Poppa turned. An elderly gentleman was hobbling toward him.
He reached Poppa and grabbed his arm. "My God, it is you!" The man said.
The man was so startled he didn’t realize they were standing in traffic. Poppa guided him to the sidewalk.
Poppa was impatient. "I’m sorry, do I know you?"
The man was breathless and his enthusiasm was so great he could barely speak. He introduced himself with a name that Poppa couldn’t recall. "You -- you saved my life on D-day."
Poppa looked at this elderly man, a man like he, easily in his seventies. Poppa was embarrassed; he had no idea who this stranger was. "How on earth did you recognize me?" Poppa asked.
The stranger gulped and caught his breath. "You never forget the face of a man who saved your life."
Poppa was touched, but in the blur of the past, this was one of many men long tucked under the cover of war. He shook his head, "I’m sorry I don’t remember..."
The stranger spoke, "I had been wounded pretty bad in the leg during the jump. I was lying there in the dark, but I knew I was near the main road. I was asking guys for help, but they couldn’t help me. You know the confusion all around, the gunfire, the silence. I was pretty sure the Krauts would find me and finish me, and then you came along. I asked you to help me, and you stopped. You were the radio guy and you stopped." The man shook his head in disbelief. "You’re the biggest target out there and you stopped for me."
The stranger gulped down his emotion and continued. "You dragged me nearly a hundred yards and hid me up under this bridge. I was terrified that I was going to die there, but you told me that as soon as you were in position, you’d send help. I laid there for hours not knowing, and at one point there were Krauts crossing right above me on that bridge. I was so scared." He shook his head, "Well, a few hours later, the medics came and they got me out of there. I asked them how they found me, and they said that the radio operator called in my position. You sent help for me just like you said you would. I never forgot your name and prayed that you’d make it through the war so I could thank you. I was pretty badly wounded and got sent home right away, but I had plenty of time to wonder about you over the years. I’m glad you made it through, and I’m glad I can say thanks."
With a quick handshake and a nod that he’d completed the deed he’d set out to do, the Stranger was gone.
Almost a year later, Poppa told me the story while he waited for me to finish my make-up. His daily routine included breakfast out, and I always joined him when I visited. I had flown in from California the night before, and I was a bit sluggish because of the time change. I was seated on the couch using a small compact.
He stood at the window in his apartment looking down at the garden below, a site that once held the old Women’s Detention Center, and today was a community garden tended to entirely by volunteers. A triangle of land wedged between Tenth Street, Greenwich Avenue and Sixth Avenue. Throngs of people crawling the street preparing for the Thanksgiving holiday.
I asked about the stranger. "What was his name?"
Poppa shrugged. "I dunno."
"Didn’t you get his phone number?" I had a hard time believing that Poppa had just let this man go without any kind of exchange of the pleasantries of our modern society.
"What for? I’m not going to call the guy and have coffee."
"Why not?"
"Because I don’t want to, that’s why. Because it was all a long time ago and we both have other lives and no one really wants to relive that stuff. "
He stepped away from the window and put on his coat.
"There are two types of men who go to war," he said. "There are the guys who never really had direction and this gives them a purpose. Those are the guys who re-enlist when it’s all over and they make a career of it. Well I was the other kind. I was the guy who couldn’t wait to get out. I didn’t like being a soldier, I didn’t like killing and I wanted to get out and away as fast as I damn well could." He watched as I put my mascara on and leaned against the door, his impatience filled the room.
I glanced up at him. "You’re still looking to get away."
He grabbed his keys with the airborne insignia. "Everyone has it all wrong, war sucks. I hated it. Now, let’s go. I’m hungry."
I stood. Lipstick would have to wait. "Poppa, I don’t understand why you didn’t want to stay in touch with that guy whose life you saved." I grabbed my coat and followed him out.
"Because there were too many I didn’t save."
It’s never too late to say thank you. This Christmas card Poppa received 50 year after the war best illustrates the thought.
Who do you need to thank today? Who has thanked you?
