Okay, North Americans, please rise in
the presence of a hero …
 As
the year closes and family comes home for the holidays, it is good to take
time to remember. In 1998, we buried an old friend to some of us, a relative
to a few of us and, to all of us, a 91-year-old real American. This man
elected to defend his country, though he could have abstained. During his
darkest hour - the 1944 D-Day offensive in France - he wrote a letter.
Some 54 years later, after his death this year, it was found in a tiny
box. All agreed it had been preserved by his wife of many years who had
preceded him in death. Part of a life’s collection of his personal effects
was shared amongst the family and posted on the funeral visitation boards.
Come back with me now …
The year, dear reader, was 1944, the tension electric. Far
from the warfronts, I was a 13-year-old, almost brand new Boy Scout walking
some 12 blocks each way every Tuesday night to a school gymnasium to learn
how to tie knots, predict weather and understand a war that was tearing
the whole world apart. We walked home in darkness - the street lights were
extinguished to protect us from an expected German reprisal to the landings
in France. It was Hitler’s ultimate challenge by the forces of freedom.
We were out to win the war in Europe!
A 35-year-old Duluthian, enlisted soldier Corporal Harold
Ouellette, was facing far more challenge on the soil of France as the immediate
aftermath of the famous D-Day invasion to liberate Europe materialized.
Here was a man whose brother already had been drafted, effectively leaving
him amongst the civilians expected to care for their aging folks. Sensing
the need, soon-to-be married Harold enlisted anyway. His bride, Kay, would
meet him in San Diego for their marriage vows just before he shipped out.
In this long ago (ancient) day, we actually fought wars to
win, knowing in the process that many of us would not come home. Ahead
of Harold was some of the war’s most bitter fighting, with attacks from
German suicide units, multiple hidden snipers and treacherous crossings
over barbed concertina wire as Allied soldiers gained inch by bloody inch.
Join me now in this letter that Harold composed to his wife
who waited back in Duluth, Minnesota:
 Somewhere
in France
Sunday, July 3, 1944
My Darling Kay -
I am writing this letter to you on the eve before going
into battle. I realize you may never receive this letter as I’ll carry
it with me through this fight. I’ve made all the preparations in my power
for this coming ordeal and my life is now in the hands of God. This morning
at Mass I went to confession and communion so that in the event I don’t
return my soul will be with God in eternity. I have hoped I’d never have
to see actual combat but that is not to be. Since our marriage, Kay dear,
I’ve learned to love and care more deeply for you with each passing day.
My one hope and aim has been that we could live normal peaceful lives together
and carry out all our wonderful dreams and plans. To me that would have
been heaven on earth.
I want you to know, Honey, that ever since our marriage,
and our engagement in fact, I’ve been absolutely true to you in thought
and action. There could never be another in my life to take even a small
part of your place in my heart full of love for you. I love you this way,
Kay dear, because of the wonderful and lovely person you are and have been
to me as my pal, sweetheart and wife.…
Think about this: almost 75 percent of Americans and Canadians
now alive have absolutely no understanding of this war. Note carefully
the sincere and absolute belief that God would care for this couple who
were - in their minds - doing their best to preserve the freedoms considered
their greatest treasure. Think - just for a moment - of the many thousands
of young men who gave their all so we might enjoy this, our current freedom.
“I’ve learned to love and care more deeply for you with each
passing day” generates the image of a helmet-clad soldier, rifle and grenades
at the ready, writing in the dusk of a tent on possibly his last day on
earth.
His almost forlorn longing for home comes to life in the
next sentence: “My one hope and aim has been that we could live normal
peaceful lives together and carry out all our wonderful dreams and plans.”
Tell me, did our World War II efforts finally accomplish this almost ethereal
1940s dream? I ask you to hold the efforts of our defense of freedom high.
To fully understand my message, young reader, take the time to find older
citizens and just ask them about World War II. Take time, please, and patience,
to listen.
“Almost ancient history,” a young lad explained, quickly
tiring of my discussion of the values we thought critical in the 1940s.
The Ouellette letter held his attention as I explained it, but I discovered
a vital need to bring this whole message to the younger classes.
For young Harold Ouellette, the message was loud and real.
Death is at the door. Cemeteries work night and day to entomb
the daily slaughter. But somehow, Harold Ouellette survives and comes home
to live a complete and fruitful life. His written prayer, the closing of
his letter, is answered:
 …
I pray that God will protect and spare me in these days to come and grant
me the privilege of returning home to you one of these days to resume our
lives together where we left off when I left home. Thank you for your faithfulness
and devotions to me, my darling wife, and all your prayers for my safety.
Goodbye my dear and may God in his goodness bless and protect you so that
if I do not return, we may meet again in eternity to never be separated
again.
Your devoted husband
Harold
On this darkest night of his adult life, note Harold’s belief,
his love and his trust. Here is a man we can all admire, copy and reflect
upon. Express our thanks in your prayers or in your discussions.
After all of this, Harold Ouellette came back to Lake Superior!
And now, let us thank the Lord and our many fellow Americans,
who gave their all for our safety and these many blessings …
And finally, in honor of his service to us all, let us pray
that Harold’s closing in this letter will be answered by a wonderful
reunion with his beloved Kay and after 15 years apart they will “meet again
in eternity to never be separated again.”
Facing possible death in a World War II offensive, Harold Ouellette was
thinking of his new wife and wrote a love letter she would save for 54
years. Kay arrived in San Diego to marry Harold Ouellette just before he
shipped out to the European theater of World War II. Her wedding dress
was the “something borrowed” for their vows; someone stole all of her clothes
before the ceremony.
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