Today’s guest blog was written by Mary Flowers Brannon in honor of the veterans in her immediate family. Remember to thank Veterans this Saturday (and always). Here is Mary’s heartfelt story:
Surrounded by Patriots
By Mary Flowers Brannon
My dad, Solomon Flowers, was in the Army during WW2 and was in the second wave to land at Normandy Beach. He never talked about the tragedies of the war, as most veterans did not.
Sadly, his mother had to ask his father to leave, because he was a “drinker” and would beat her and the children. He was the second of four, the oldest boy, becoming head of the house at age eight. He would sell the GRIT newspaper on the corner in Ada, Oklahoma, during unbearable heat and freezing cold. He also swept and mopped the floor at a bakery for day-old bread. I learned this information from his little sister, Aunt Lillian, who said he was the only “father” she ever knew. While in the Army, my dad would buy a candy bar and a coke on payday and send the rest home.”
He only told the humorous side of the war, eyes twinkling as he laughed. Once, during the cold, his platoon was on patrol, taking a “chow” break (C rations) from a can, and mail was being passed out.
The Captain in charge, who was not liked or respected by his men, came across as a Don Knotts trying to be John Wayne. Luckily, the unit had an experienced First Sergeant, who knew about combat.
Dad, saluting, asked, “Sir, request permission to speak.”
The Captain said, “At ease private, permission to speak granted.”
Dad said, “Sir, I must return to Ada, Oklahoma, immediately.” He held up a letter in one hand and the envelope in the other.
The Captain looked skeptical, as my dad was known as a jokester. “OK, I’ll bite, was does it say?”
Dad said, “This letter says I am in Big Trouble if I don’t report to the Draft Board in thirty days.” Like many men who had enlisted, it took some time for paperwork to catch up to them.
My dad then adamantly began reading the letter, and the other guys began to laugh, which is what my dad wanted, as there is not much humor in war.
Dad continued to read the letter, stating, “You are hereby ordered to report to Fort Chaffey by the end of the month. If you do not comply, you are in Big Trouble.” (The letter probably did not say Big Trouble, but Dad most likely embellished the words for levity.)
Showing the writing to the Captain, Dad turned the paper around, dramatically pointing to it with a phony look of concern. His finger was over the date showing that the letter was three months old.
The Captain said, “Dismissed, private.”
Dad saluted, turned, and headed back to the group, grinning and muttering under his breath so that the other soldiers, but not the Captain, could hear, “Big Trouble!”
Not all his tales were funny; some warmed your heart. He and his buddy were on patrol once when they came to a small village. Seeing a local café, they got excited for an actual hot meal. Sitting at the bar, they each ordered a hamburger and a cup of coffee.
When the bill was presented, his friend took off his watch for payment, as neither he nor my dad had any money. The owner looked at the watch, pushed it back, tore up the check, and brought them each a piece of pie.
I love this story. The shop owner knew a little bit of food given to brave soldiers to keep Hitler from taking his business was a small price to pay.
In 1974, my younger brother Steve enlisted in the Air Force and went to Lackland AFB, San Antonio, Texas, for basic training. After four years of active duty, he joined the National Guard, went to college, and became a registered nurse. While in the guard, he became an officer retiring as a Lieutenant Colonel, serving in the Middle East for both Desert Shield and Desert Storm.
If the female nurses went into town, they had to dress like the local women, with their heads covered. They could never go alone, and usually went in a group accompanied by a male, as was the area’s tradition.
Steve had gone with a group of three women to the movie theater. An older local woman hissed at the three females, stating, “In America, you are forced to drive a car. How can you live in such an oppressive country?” It amazed my brother that a local woman could feel that way.
My older brother Roger was in the Marine Corps and did two tours in Vietnam. He came home 100% disabled.
Sadly, he died a slow painful death, eaten alive by Agent Orange, a toxic solution that had been used on trees to make it easier to see the enemy. However, he never complained, and he was always proud he served. I remember his military funeral, where there was the playing of taps, folding the flag, and presenting it to his widow. There was not a dry eye in the house.
My dad saw conflict in the Army during WW II in France at the beaches of Normandy. My brother Roger was in the Marine Corps, did two tours in Vietnam, and became 100% disabled, and my brother Steve was in the Air Force and went to both Desert Shield and Desert Storm. These are three of the most important men in my life, and they served from all three branches—Army, Marine Corps, and Air Force. Their lives represented all three military branches, and they each saw fighting in three different conflicts.
My mother, Wanda Duffy Flowers, graduated from high school at 17 and worked as a Rosie the Riveter in Wichita, Kansas at an aircraft plant. After WW II, she married my dad in 1946, and then had five children, all of us about two years apart.
She once drafted a story for the book Rosie Romances. She wrote:
“After retiring from teaching, I traveled to Europe, Mexico, Canada, Hawaii, the Holy Land, Egypt, Paris, and Russia. Could never inspire my husband to go to France with me. He said he had been there already and did not care for it. I explained with a smile, ‘You will enjoy it more this time—no one will be shooting at you.’ After 48 years of marriage, I became a widow.
“I have a son who served two tours of duty in Vietnam and also a son who served in Desert Storm. At this date, our country is still at war.”
I thank my family of patriots for keeping me free!
Mary, thank you for sharing about the veterans in your family. You are blessed with this rich history. My hat of gratitude goes off to all the veterans in your family.