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1) Be Humble
Every year, I would make sure to take my Grandma Agnes, and my Grandfather George Witzell out for dinner when I visited Niagara Falls. One weekend, I choose a nice Italian restaurant and I let them know they could have anything they wanted on the menu. They were from the depression era, so they immediately had concerns, “It’s so expensive”, they sighed. However, after much convincing and persistence that I insist, George piped up and said, “Well then, ok...I’ll have the Filet Mignon!”
After the plate was served, his hand slipped while trying to slice the steak - it fell off the plate and onto the carpeted floor. Agnes said, “Now George, you can’t eat that now.” My grandfather said, “By jeezers, you bet I can,” and he proceed to get down on his hands and knees, crawled under the table, picked up the steak, and put it back on his plate. He dusted it off after sitting back up straight and said, “See, its just fine Agnes”.
He then proceeded to tell us the story of how in the war, they often found themselves for days in the woods or meadows, without much more than hard, stale bread to eat. They had saved the bread in the back of their packs for when they were out of food. They would pick the grass from the ground in the meadows, and put it in between the bread.
In this moment, on his hands and knees in a fancy restaurant, my Grandfather taught me to be humble.
2) Be Thankful
The next story I will never forget, is when they came upon a country home in the Netherlands, as he and his comrades made their way through the countryside. The homes were always booby trapped by the Germans, so despite the fact they were starving, George said they couldn’t eat the food in the cupboards, because it was poisoned. They proceeded to search and secure the property including the barn behind the farmhouse. There, they came upon three young children, all siblings, who had been told to hide out amongst the straw bales and piles of hay. Their parents were gone - killed when the Germans took over the home and the children never saw them again - they were severely malnourished, as they had been in hiding in the barn for some time.
In this moment, my Grandfather taught me to be so thankful my family, and my children are safe and secure.
3) Be Grateful
My Grandfather stormed the beach on D-Day. He said he just could not bring himself to go see the movie Saving Private Ryan. We went as a family and when we asked about the beach on this day, and described the soldiers dying before they even landed on the beach. He teared up and said, “the waters were so red”. George was one of the ‘lucky ones’ who made it to the beach. He shared with us, through those tears, that as he was making his way up the sand hills, and through the bush, he passed one of his best friends from his hometown; his name was Claude. After making it up the hill, Claude was attacked in hand combat and was stumbling back down to the beach, holding his hands over the mortal wounds in his stomach, and his intestines were slipping through the locked fingers of his two hands clasped together. George knew Claude was going to die. The last moment they shared together was only brief eye contact while George was forced to walk past him to continue up the hill. He was under intense fire from the Germans, and with no shelter on the beach, or from the fire coming from the pill boxes up top, he ‘soldiered on’ as they were ordered. He never forgave himself for not being able to stay on the beach with him until his last breath, and he carried this burden until the day he died.
In this moment, my Grandfather taught me to be grateful for my very life.
4) Be Patriotic
George was in the war for over four years and was only twenty three years old when he signed up on that fateful day. Four years later he had been left for dead on the banks of the Rhine River. A British soldier turned him over, and realized he was still alive. He woke up months later in the hospital. He had been suffering from diphtheria, and while he lay recovering in a hospital bed, a nurse told him the war was over. When George came home, his daughter, my Aunt Shirley, and my father’s older sister, was four years old - he had never seen her before. George told us of the celebration the government held for them in Halifax when they arrived on the ships into the harbour. They held a grand feast and the food was so much more enticing than the maggot infested meat at the barracks back in Europe. George told us they just could not eat. And those who could not resist this amazing buffet, violently vomited after consuming a heaping plate of food. After being deprived for so long, their bodies had adapted to a starvation state, and they could not even enjoy a warm hot meal, after everything they had been through in the war.
We cannot ever truly appreciate the sacrifices made by these brave men and women. The suffering of my Grandfather, taught me to be proud of the country and the freedom he defended.
5) Are you really having a hard day?
George spoke of all the close calls - shells landing beside him on his friends, the time he was shot in the "buttox", the platoon sergeant he really liked who was snipered to death on a hillside while talking to a general in a command meeting, and the tank parked in a semi-circular driveway of a mansion home in Holland, which was blown to bits, just a few moments after they moved inside to secure the building. He said they were relieved they weren't in the tank at the time, and then he smiled and shared that after they secured the area, they took some time to search through the rubble to retrieve their boxes of cigarettes...."wouldn't want to move on without those", he said.
So... when I think I am having a ‘bad day’, because my 'frappe latte' spilled on my lap in the car, or my children were cranky and slow getting ready for school in the morning - I think of my Grandfather and I remember to keep life in perspective; "Melanie, you are not being shot at today. You are not eating stale, hard bread with grass from the front yard in it for lunch. Your children are safe, fed and warm in their bed each night, and you celebrate your friend’s birthdays with martinis and tapas - not by visiting white crosses in Flanders Fields."
I am not having a bad day. I have really never, ever, had a bad day in fact - and for this blessed life I enjoy, I owe thanks to my Grandfather for fighting for our freedom. George died when he was 91 years old, but he suffered each and every day after the war, as he carried the weight of these battles and all of his fallen comrades, friends like Claude, on his shoulders and in his mind, with images playing back over and over again, torturing his soul for the rest of his life.
It is because of George, and his fallen friends like Claude, we are free to live in this beautiful country.
Thank you Grampy for the freedom you gave all of us; you are a true Canadian hero. I take peace in knowing your suffering is finally over and I will carry on your memory by remembering and honouring you today, tomorrow and always.
Melanie Witzell
Agency Director, Mad Hatter Technology
And Granddaughter of George Witzell
