Lest We Forget
Today in church we sang Patriotic songs; it felt good to be reminded of our dear country. I love America and Canada with all my heart. I do know it is the Promised Land, given to us by a loving Father in Heaven for our good. It is free that we might enjoy the Gospel and be a light unto other nations. I love to read the Book of Mormon and see how many times this Land of Promise was a key component of the restoration of the gospel. I am grateful and thankful for those who live the principles of the gospel and keep the commandments so it can remain free. I love freedom for myself and for each of you. I am grateful that each of you remains steadfast in your desire to honor the American legacy of freedom and right. I believe we will all be called upon in the coming future to preserve what we now enjoy and take for granted. I have just lately come to understand more fully how essential it is to know as much as possible about our ancestors and their personal sacrifices; these links bind us together and encourage us to build on their legacy.
You might not be aware of family members who defended our country; certainly not because I have shared their stories. Once Darin came home from McCabe School to say that one of his teachers made disparaging remarks about the Mormons because they didn’t fight in past wars for freedom. Because of this, he had no use for Mormons. I let it slide, and now regret I didn’t go to him and tell him of my Uncles and their contributions to World War 11. So, now I will tell you!
Grandpa Snow’s Brothers
Willard Stringham Snow was the second son of my Grandparents, Martha Lenora and Joseph Atha Snow. Stringham went by the name of Ham. In 1940, at the age of 27, Ham enlisted in the Canadian Army. WW11 was well in progress. He was stationed in Halifax and disembarked July 7, 1941 arriving at Greenock, Scotland July 30, 1941. Early in his career he was made a Captain, but due to his mechanical aptitude, he left this position to become schooled in mechanics and was demoted according to his desire to the level of Private. During his time overseas, in 1942, his father, my Grandpa Snow died, leaving my Grandmother alone with 3 young daughters and one son to run the operations of a large ranch. Ham sent money home regularly to assist in this effort.
While on Scotland, he met and fell in love with a Scottish girl, Jessie Chambers, who wrote to him and Grandma Snow regularly. Jessie was a source of great strength for a lonely serviceman, and while
not a member of the LDS faith, Grandma Snow was very grateful for her support of her son. Ham, though baptized, was not active in the LDS religion.
Stringham was killed in action July 22, 1943 during the British 8th Army invasion of Sicily. The West Nova Scotia Regiment to which Ham was assigned was in the thick of the march. At dusk, July 22, 1943, with brilliant maneuvers and hard fighting, the Canadians had deprived the German enemy of two of its defensive positions; Assero and Leonforte. The regiment had been moving along the country all day. Willard, who had mechanical training, was behind the lines where he was repairing an army vehicle. The enemies advanced and were shooting “88’s” with snipers everywhere. There were two men killed and four men wounded during the hours of 4PM to 6PM. Ham was one of the wounded, and died before the day was over. He is buried in the Canadian Military Cemetery at Agira, Sicily. While Mom and Dad were touring Europe, they visited his graveside. He was awarded 1939-45 Star, Italy Star Defense Medal, War Medal CVSM & CLASP.
William Jay Snow was the 3rd son, and younger brother of Stringham. He went a different route in his military career. He enlisted in 1941 in the Royal Canadian Air Force and after Army and Air Force training was posted to overseas duty November 1941, where he learned to fly. Jay was in the thick of battle over enemy territory so correspondence with him was limited. March 27, 1944, after completing one tour of duty comprised of 30 bombing trips out of England, he was given 30 days of leave and returned home to Canada for a family visit. Following this, he returned to London, England June 5th, 1944 to assume his role of active duty. June 30th, 1944 the RCAF Casualty Office notified Grandma Snow that her son had been injured with a broken back. He had completed 31 operational trips and 35 months of active fling overseas when a Mitchell Bomber in which he was flying as an Air Force Gunner crashed after a softening raid on Caen in Normandy. Fortunately the plane was able to reach England before crashing. For Jay, the war was now over.
Grandma Snow’s Brother
Heintz Paul Musch, son of Aloysia [Louisa] Gehmlich Musch and Albert Paul Liebig [killed in WW1] was my Mother’s youngest brother. He was “called to be a member of Uncle Sam’s army” August 2, 1943. He was then married with a 3-month-old daughter. He travelled to Camp Adair for Basic Training then went overseas. Uncle Heintz did very well in the Army and was promoted to Corporal, Sergeant, and Staff Sergeant all within a month. This is something you don’t hear of too often, but nonetheless is true according to his records. Uncle Heintz states he didn’t want to become a soldier, but if that was to be his lot, he was going to be a good one. When others were out having a good time, he was studying his “Army Scriptures”. He was assigned to the 70th Division and later to the 3rd Division in charge of the weapons platoon. He was often asked how he felt going to war against his birth country, Germany. He said that when he was called up to go he made up his mind that if it were either you or me that was going to live, it would be me. Also, he was young when he left Germany to come to Canada and finally the US, so it was not difficult for him to establish his loyalties.
One night while in his foxhole, he received a call to bring his equipment and come to Headquarters. He wondered what in the world was going on. Well, they wanted him to accept a field commission and become a 2nd Lieutenant. He had turned this down twice already, but relented thinking he might as well get more pay and some glory. He says he did what was asked of him and did it to the best of his ability. He came home from the Army in 1946.
Following his return home he was invited to Fort Douglas to become a member of the Army Reserve. He retired as a Lieutenant Colonel in the USAR and Commander of the 48 1st Reserves Battalion. Had he not been married with a child, he would have pursued a career in the military.
So, there you have it, valiant, men during conflicting times giving their best. Can we do less? I think not. Each Memorial Day as I was growing up, I remember with fondness the little red Poppieswe bought and wore pinned to our clothing. The Poppies were made by veterans, sold and the oney given to needy War Veterans. Once, I was asked to recite the poem “In Flanders Field”, outside by the flagpole before my Junior High School assembly. I can still recite it today, and it brings a lump to my throat just as do brass bands and flags. A Canadian soldier whose friend was killed in battle wrote the poem. He recited it at the funeral, and then threw it away. The paper was retrieved and the poem published. I love America and know it is the Land of Promise. As the mother of four boys, I have always been grateful that you were not needed in any war efforts, but that your mission was to spread the gospel of peace and hope to the world. May the same be true for Grandsons.
As ever, I love and adore you all and miss you more with each passing day. Coming home is right around the corner, but what a blessing to be in Nauvoo serving this sweet mission. We are so blessed and appreciative of this opportunity in our lives at this time, and the way each of you support us with your prayers, calls etc. Dad and I are so grateful.
In Flanders Fields
By John McCray
In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie, In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. |
