Calvin Wyatt
62 years ago, My uncle, Calvin Wyatt, was scratching his way across Omaha beach. As far as I can determine, he was not in the first wave- I believe he was in the 116th Infantry, from what information I was able to gather. Probably why he survived the war. He didn’t talk much about it. He talked instead about his fears, saw the homes and farms of the people of France and thought about his home and farm. Thought about how easy it would be for us to be attacked on our own soil. Thought about the horrors of war.
Calvin dragged his rifle and pack, wet and nasty, across that beach, up those hills. Waded through a tide of blood. Bodies and body parts. Omaha beach was a meat grinder, and he saw it with his own eyes.
Calvin was 20 when he hit the beach. Wiry and tough. A kid, who had his whole world ahead. Less than a year earlier he had stepped out of the county where he was born for the first time. Now,he’s setting foot on the european continent for the first time, bullets whizzing, mortars going off. He survived. He made it through.
There were other fights, no doubt. There were other moments of fear, but I imagine none so harsh as that moment on Omaha beach when he jumped out of that Higgins boat.
In Normandy, in a foxhole, on his 21st birthday, October 19, he caught mortar shrapnel in his right arm, which shredded him. And put him out of the action, once and for all.
Medicine in wartime france wasn’t much to speak of. They managed to put some of the pieces together. He lost the elbow permanently, and never bent that arm again, it ended up at a permanent slight angle. And it caused him some pain for the rest of his life.
Here he is in the front yard of a rented home with his eldest child Ben. Handsome devil, ain’t he?
Calvin saw things I hope I never see. He gave the use of his arm for his country. He suffered in silence all his life, until he died, at age 76, in 1999. He and my father were very close, and when I think of either of them, I think of both of them. Wherever they are now, I’m sure they’re as inseperable as they were then.
God Bless and keep Calvin Wyatt in the hollow of his mighty hand. God smite all those who would cast aspersions on his service, his honor, his love for his family and friends. And Dad, buy Calvin a beer today on me.
10 comments Og | Uncategorized
My dad was D+6. Rear eshelon. But he won two bronze stars, one with a V. To this day, he refuses to speak of it. I have contacted the army and they tell me the citation for the awards cannot be given out without specific permission, or until he dies.
That was when duty, honor, valor, and patriotism meant something. They were truly the “Greatest Generation.”
My uncle, my namesake, gave his last full measure in the Philipines, flying a Liberator on December 7, 1942, one year after Pearl. I know the heartbreak that war causes. I also know the heartbreak submission causes.
Calvin is special, a man who finds evil more important than self: a rare breed these days.
Let me leave you with this:
If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquility of servitude than the animating contest of freedom, go from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains sit lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that ye were our countrymen!” –Samuel Adams
And for extra credit, name all five beaches assaulted on D-day.
hint:
O
U
G
J
S
May God bless them all.
He was a damn fine man and he’d never admit to being something special.
They just won’t do it.
Lost my grandfather a few months later at the Bulge.
He was a cook who tried to help the grunts when the attack came, damn him.
God bless Calvin and all who suffered to make us free.
There is no way we can sufficiently thank men like your Uncle Calvin. They’ve given us a gift beyond measure. I was watching a D-Day show last night on the Military Channel. I don’t forget, but every year when I hear the stories it makes me cry to think of all that those young men did for us.
Good stuff, Og. Your uncle did great service and exemplified why they call his the “Greatest Generation.”
Great post, Og.
God bless our troops, here and gone.
Wonderful post. Your Uncle was a great man and shared in making history with many other great men. Thank God for them all.
One of my great-uncles was in the infantry in Europe from either the Normandy landings or shortly thereafter until the end, a lot of it in Patton’s Third Army.
NEVER talked to the family about any of it. Only way his wife learned anything was when a friend from his unit visited one time. She got him aside and asked some questions, and that’s the only information we got. He considered it a nasty job that had to be done, and once over not dwelled on.
I’ve never tried to find out anything about his unit; since he didn’t want to speak of it, seems disrespecful to go around him to find it. He’s in poor health now, after he dies I may dig into it.
Him, my other great-uncle, your uncle, all the others; may they have peace in their souls, they damn well sacrificed enough for it.
Dad was D-Day+1. Was at the Bulge, too. A replacement. Not on the front line.
Later, Dad walked across Europe laying telephone wire. Sometimes he was ahead of everybody, and sometimes they rushed past him. He was supposed to drive truck, but couldn’t drive lefty in England. Mangled his fingers in a Post Office mail sorter waiting to go over. Arthritic hand till he died. Never a braggart, didn’t have a lot to say about the war.
Thanks for the opportunity to tell that, and God bless all of them that serve(d), then and now.
I am wondering if this is Calvin P. Wyatt of Grafton, WV.