WW II -- PART II --

I want to thank my brother for writing his little story about the way the news of the end of WW II hit him.  I have recounted my experience  of that day more than once, and perhaps even once here, on the blog.  I'll look it up before I sign off.  Here is my brother's response to the post on this blog from yesterday.  Let me warn you, some of this is written in a foreign language, so just be patient with here for a moment.

The most vivid memories of the war for me were the airplanes.  I loved them too and until I hurt my eye, my dream was to be a fighter pilot on an Aircraft Carrier.  
As for the food, my most vivid memory is mixing the food coloring into the oleo.  Yuck!  No butter!  AND I do remember the end of the war.  We were playing in the driveway at the Poiriers [diagonally across the street from our house] when Mrs. Poirier ran out of the house and told Chiah and Dounad to hurry into the house so they could pray.  I got so scared.  I ran home crying.  A few minutes later the guys from Smith St.,  Dickey, Gary, the Baileys, Kenny Stiles, Georgie Hahn, Bobby Bah [Bach] and Ron Laporte came marching over Hartford St. banging pots and pans and singing and yelling.  Mom wanted me to join them, but I just cried the louder.  I was such a baby!


That day I was out fishing with EFR Dion.  We had left early in the morning.  He wanted some pickerel and he opined that I could get some pan fish for the giggles.  So off we went to his favorite pickerel hole.  As I remember it, both of us got skunked, so we were sad sacks for most of the way back home.  But then as we went through towns we noticed that there were quite a few impromptu celebrations of the kind that Denis just mentioned.  So we turned the radio on and got the news about the surrender of the Japanese.  When we finally got to the house, things had begun to be a little quieter and my dear brother was glad to see us.


My big question to my father came about four or five days later when I said, "Well, now that the war is over, we won't need newspapers any more, will we?"  He just smiled and said, "Oh, I'm sure that they'll find something else to write about.  Don't worry."  I'm rather glad that they did find something else.  One of my favorites came to us some ten years later, fellow by the name of Charlie Brown.


Tomorrow, Baby Sitters.  I got the thought today, but I let this "WW II -- Part II" take the space while it was fresh.