Ep 032 October 10th One of My Favorite Days of the Year

October 10^th 1983

Dear James,

As I have laid in my bed just down the hall from you this past week at St. Thomas Hospital, at night, when the halls were quiet, I have wondered, like you, “Why?”  Not why a kidney stone sidelined me for a few days, but why you happened to fall as you did and be sidelined indefinitely. It’s one thing for a 59-year-old man who has a rich and full life, to be incapacitated for a few weeks, but quite a different thing for a 19-year-old boy, in the prime of his manhood, to be severely tested. James, I have never been tested, as you will be – physically – but we all, at some point or another, in our lives, are faced with adversity. My test, more mental than physical, came during World War II, and if you will let me share some very private things about those times – some for the very first time, then perhaps in some small way I can inspire in you the added desire way to more quickly overcome some of your adversities.

In 1943, I was a 19-free-spirit like you; the world was mine with a fence around it. I played all day and sometimes all night. A war which I knew little about was going on in Europe. But that, I didn’t think, was my world. That was someone else’s world – someone else’s problems.

Suddenly, the crescendo of world conflict swept me up into its clutches and in a few brief months I found myself side by side, with others like me, struggling against the outgoing tide at Omaha Beach end on the coast of France – praying to God that He let me live long enough to reach the beach and find cover from those who were just as interested in stopping me. James, my friends were sinking from sight, all around me, some so close that when I tried to hold on to them, I had not the strength to save a fellow man. Boys, like you are now, James, with fuzzy faces, rebuilt trucks, girlfriends, moms and dads, brothers and sisters, high hopes and many other things. These young men, the cream of American youth, going back to their maker, in the cold icy waters of the Atlantic.

This was it – there wouldn’t be another chance. No loving mother’s eyes to look down on them and say a million prayers. No brother’s arms to support them – when they could not support themselves. I made it to shore, James – one of the lucky ones.

However, in that space of a few hours, I lived a lifetime. I know now what I gained, but I only thought then of what I lost. I never thought it would be the same again. I feared my mind would be infested forever with terror, pain, and lonesomeness.

It took a while, James – it took everything I could give not to quit and say, “This isn’t what I had counted on,”  “I’ve been dealt a dirty blow,”  “I want to go home,” or “I have no future.”  I guess I may have thought some of those things, but to dwell on that was folly.

Like you I lived, and with the help of others – doctors, counselors, therapists, family and friends, I was able to overcome severe mental shock and put my life back together. I pray you will be able to do the same – and you know something – I have no doubts but what you will.

Good luck, James, and don’t hesitate to call me if you ever need me.

God Bless you

Fred

To learn more about James, visit Professor of Perseverance. You may also contact him through email, James@professorofperseverance.com or call 615 – 336 – 2181