GRANDPA’S ARMY HELMET!

GRANDPA’S ARMY HELMET!

Rom 13:7

7 Render therefore to all their dues: tribute to whom tribute is due; custom to whom custom; fear to whom fear; honour to whom honour.

          On some kid level I knew that Grandpa had fought in World War I. He had a dent in his forehead that he said was caused by a machine gun bullet that grazed his skull. His tongue was partially paralyzed and he had some slight difficulty with it. I never gave it any more thought than this until that day we were both caught in a downpour.

          Grandpa and I had gone into town to see a movie and mess around. We had walked the train tracks that ran in front of the house and led to the crossing at Cross’ Store. Somewhere in town was a movie house and we went to see a kid matinee. On the way home it poured down rain!

          At first I complained but soon we were both drenched and mostly enjoying the rain. We were stuck and we simply tried to make the most of it. It was hard for my kid legs to keep stride with the cross ties but we both ran as fast as we could without tripping.

          When we finally reached the old farm house, Grandma met us with appropriate scorn and scolding. I was led into the bedroom and told to step into a large dish pan and strip out of my wet clothes. I was wrapped in a warm towel which I remember as large and welcome as a blanket. From somewhere I was given some dry clothes. These are details a kid never worries about.

          That’s when it happened. Grandpa went to the little closet, probably to get himself some clothes. In the closet I spied an old WWI army helmet. I asked to see it and Grandpa took it down and handed it to me. It was heavy in my hands and I noticed that the leather straps had become stiff and brittle. Right in the front it had a dent. It was not a hole but a dent!

          Grandpa put it on and the dent in the helmet and the dent in his forehead matched perfectly. I never forgot that image in my kid mind. Grandpa had his faults, but I always kept a small memorial in my heart and mind for him and his sacrifice for freedom. I can imagine him face down in the mud with bullets zooming all around. One hit his helmet and probably knocked him out. Grandpa was a soldier.

          On this Memorial Day weekend, let’s take a closer look at those who have served. They may not have a dent or a scar that can be seen but each one carries memories that they would rather not discuss. Perhaps on some rain-soaked adventure they will open the door a little and let you see inside their closet. You might see a bayonet or an old army helmet. As you turn to look again, you might see an American hero.

Lev 19:32

32 Thou shalt rise up before the hoary head, and honour the face of the old man, and fear thy God: I am the Lord.

Dear Lord, bless with peace those who have tasted war for us. AMEN