
by Anna Von Reitz
June 6: A Requiem for a Birthday
I was born on the twelfth anniversary of D-Day, the invasion of the Allied Armada on the beach heads of Normandy, which marked the end of the Nazi occupation of France and ultimately, the end of Hitler's Third Reich.
This event which both preceded and has foreshadowed my own life has always held special and ironic meaning for me. As I attended school twenty years later, I was still being shoved around and called names like "filthy German" even though my Father ---like many other German Americans--- served the Allied cause faithfully and honorably throughout the war.
My Uncles, Merton and Henry Schnur, two more German-Americans, also served in combat positions throughout the war. Merton was among those shivering heroes wading through the deadly surf on June 6 and went on to face the Battle of the Bulge as a radio operator--- a position known as a "living target". Because of the weight of the radio equipment, he couldn't carry a gun; he had to depend on the bravery and personal determination of other men in his unit to defend him.
Henry flew supply and combat missions as a pilot, over "the Hump" of the Himalayan Mountains.
My best friend's Father, Gerhardt Peterson, was another infantryman wading ashore on Omaha Beach, June 6, 1944.
I was born on the twelfth anniversary of D-Day, the invasion of the Allied Armada on the beach heads of Normandy, which marked the end of the Nazi occupation of France and ultimately, the end of Hitler's Third Reich.
This event which both preceded and has foreshadowed my own life has always held special and ironic meaning for me. As I attended school twenty years later, I was still being shoved around and called names like "filthy German" even though my Father ---like many other German Americans--- served the Allied cause faithfully and honorably throughout the war.
My Uncles, Merton and Henry Schnur, two more German-Americans, also served in combat positions throughout the war. Merton was among those shivering heroes wading through the deadly surf on June 6 and went on to face the Battle of the Bulge as a radio operator--- a position known as a "living target". Because of the weight of the radio equipment, he couldn't carry a gun; he had to depend on the bravery and personal determination of other men in his unit to defend him.
Henry flew supply and combat missions as a pilot, over "the Hump" of the Himalayan Mountains.
My best friend's Father, Gerhardt Peterson, was another infantryman wading ashore on Omaha Beach, June 6, 1944.