It was a dismal night in April 1945 that we slid over the side of the troop carrier and made our way down the cargo nets to the waiting Higgins boat below. In a few minutes, we, with our 125 lb. pack were let a shore in the Okinawa mud. We wallered and crawled some 300 yards into the beach and went to sleep exhausted just inside the patio of a native tomb. Before daybreak we were picked up by trucks to hurry off to the outfits with which we were to fight.

The very first break of dawn caught us stuck in the quagmire in front of a military cemetery. We watched the solemn business at hand. The bodies sewn in G.I. blankets, left from the day before, were waiting their turn to be placed in the water filled bulldozed trench of this new day. About one half of the marked off plots of ground had already been disturbed and white crosses were placed neatly in rows. The other half was yet to be disturbed in the next few weeks.

A tired but sharp honor guard came, and with an air of seriousness never before felt by the writer, raised the flag of our nation over these honored dead. I could not restrain my feelings, nor did I want to, for I thought; "Oh, my God, what a price for freedom."

Now years have passed since then, and I still feel each time I see our flag, or come to July 4th, that I need to see again those hallowed cemeteries of our nation which speaks of the price paid for our freedom today, and dedicate myself to uphold with all my might the dearly bought liberty.

As a matter of fact, there is but one thing which surpasses that liberty. It was not paid for on a battle field by men, but on a cruel wooden cross by the very Son of God Himself. He could not protect Himself, for He surrendered to His Heavenly Father's wish that every person might have the gift of eternal life. May we never forget what a price was paid for freedom from eternal damnation!!! Q.C. Dietering 1960

World War II Participants

World War II Casualties