World War II Memorial- Trip Back In Time

NEW PROMPT:
The new World War II Memorial was finally dedicated in Washington, D.C. this past weekend in time for Memorial Day. In honor of this event, write a FICTIONAL STORY about your experience visiting the memorial with a WW2 Veteran (close friend or family member).

The World War II Memorial

I waited until dark when I knew that I would be virtually alone. I waited until the 150,000 people that attended the official dedication were all long gone about their merry way. The politicians had made their dutiful public appearance and speeches. It was only then, after all the crowds had left that I came to pay my respects. My father had been a bomber pilot in World War II. He flew a B-29. My father, unlike all of our friends’ fathers, refused to tell us war stories.

Like everybody else, I had waited for years for the government to finish this World War II Memorial. And even before that I had wondered why it had taken so long for the need for a monument to be build to be recognized.

I approached the massive monument quietly and slowly; even in the dark the World War II Memorial commanded a kind of indescribable reverence and respect that I had not expected. The memorial rose and stood hauntingly silent in its tribute to the hundreds of thousands that died. As I stepped onto the marble platform a chill suddenly possessed my body. My mind started reeling with unfamiliar memories that were not my own. In the depths of my mind I could hear bomb blast, gunfire, men voices shouting inaudible orders, and hundreds of others crying out in unbearable pain. These sounds violently reverberated through my body, and I felt someone push me. Suddenly I found myself sprawled face down on the marble slab. I felt a cold arm lay across my back and an the urgent question being shouted at me above the noise, “Are you hit?”

Without thinking the words tumbled out of my mouth, “N…N…No.” A man grabbed my arm, pulled me to my feet, and dragged me across a hot, blistering metal deck of a huge battle ship.

Confused I realized that the Memorial Day monument must have somehow become a portal that transported me back in time. Japanese planes were dropping bombs. The ship had been hit. Men were dead and dieing all around us. I was having trouble distinguishing between this reality and my own reality. The seaman’s uniform labels indicated he was a Seaman, Second Class, last name Simmons.

I felt the cold marble, and was startled by the sudden silence. As quickly as I had just experienced whatever it was I had just experience, evidently it was over. I sat on that cold marble for more than an hour as I slowly came to realize that that that man could only have been my Uncle Herschel Thomas Simmons, Seaman Second Class. I had never known him. He died May 11th, 1945, somewhere in the Pacific.

What a wonderful and long overdue tribute this World War II Memorial monument is, and at the same time how tragic to have to memorialize such events.