New Poem for the 70th Anniversary of D-Day

June 6, 1944 in Willoughby-on-the-Lake

Cora and Connie,

Their four boys overseas, fighting in the terrible war,

First got the news on the radio around noon that Tuesday.

They heard from the boys about once a month, in letters

Passed under a censor’s eyes, often weeks old.

Sometimes Cora wondered as she read the letters

If her boys were still alive or wounded in some hospital

Or prisoners of war. She couldn't stop the terrible scenarios

Unraveling in her mind.

Connie tried to keep up her spirits, joked and laughed a lot,

And cried himself in secret and drank himself unconscious

Some nights at the bar down the corner.

Bob was on a small ship somewhere in the South Pacific;

Bill also somewhere in the Philippines.

But Fran and Jack, the two most vulnerable spirits,

They were somewhere in Europe—

They might be part of this invasion.

Candles remained lit that day, four of them,

(As they did every day of almost four years);

Two of those candles flickered, went out briefly,

Before Cora could relight them.

It was weeks before Connie and Cora learned the truth--

Their boys were alive—and in late ’45 or ’46,

They came home to Willoughby.

Bob had shrapnel in his back, but was otherwise OK;

Bill’s happy spirit seemed intact—

But Fran and Jack were filled with anger and sorrow;

Souls twisted and damaged, they got into fights back home,

And sometimes drank until they blacked out.

They were haunted the next twenty years,

Until their early deaths, by the psychic wounds,

The spiritual wreckage of June 6, 1944 and

The brutal organized violence of the years before and the year after.

Connie and Cora’s boys came home—

But two of them wounded for life.

[Bob Coughlin / June 6, 2014]

Memorial Day Reflections

We dropped by All Souls Cemetery in Chardon Township, Ohio a couple days ago and brought a small American flag to place on my Dad's grave. Dad was a veteran of the US Navy during the World War II years. During that time he was a signalman aboard small ships, PC boats and SC boats. The Subchasers were wooden boats, called the Navy's "splinter fleet." They were small ships, not super fast, and not heavily armed. Dad spent most of the war in the South Pacific, including Australia, the Philippines, Borneo, and surrounding islands and seas. On the way to the South Pacific he stopped in Rio de Janiero. My brother Kevin has gotten hold of Dad's war records, but I have yet to study them. I doubt that they tell more than a fraction of the story of those years. Dad and his brothers Fran (or "Connie," as he was known to many), Jack, and Bill were all in the war, and all came home in one piece--at least physically (though Dad had shrapnel wounds and the little pieces of metal would periodically emerge throughout his life). My Dad and Bill had the least psychological damage, but Jack and Fran had problems that led to alcohol abuse and other troubles. Fran died at age 46 in 1965, and Jack died at age 49 in 1970.

On my mother's side, the Fitzpatrick side, her twin brothers, Dick and Don, went to war in Europe and North Africa. They too were psychologically damaged and fell prey to alcoholism. I think Fran, Jack, Dick, and Don were trying to self-medicate for PTSD and the psychological baggage of war. Back in 1945 and the years thereafter, there weren't many programs to help soldiers with PTSD, and so many of them suffered in silence. Like Fran and Jack, both Dick and Don died around age 50. Dick and Don were two of the most wonderful people that ever walked the earth.

Our family was deeply wounded again during the Vietnam era when my cousin, Tommy Fitzpatrick, died in combat in 1969. Tommy was only 21 years old, just 2 years out of Euclid High School. Tommy's death broke the hearts of his mother and father, Al and Catherine, and of his brothers and sister, aunts, uncles, and cousins. We still think often of Tommy and honor his great sacrifice.

At All Souls Cemetery we saw hundreds, nay thousands, of American flags placed on the graves of veterans. We noticed that there was no flag at Uncle Fran's grave, so we placed one there. These vets will never be forgotten.

Salute to Veterans

Today let's honor our Veterans. I think especially of three friends who died in Vietnam: my cousin Tommy Fitzpatrick of Euclid, Ohio, who died in Vietnam in 1969; Steve Shields, my classmate from Notre Dame and Innsbruck, Austria, who died in Vietnam in 1972; and Buddy Chasser, a classmate at St. William's and St. Joe's and Euclid, Ohio resident, who died in Vietnam in 1967.

And we honor family members who served in the military during war time:

--Denny Coughlin, my brother, Navy man who served aboard ship off Vietnam in the early 1970's;
--Robert P. Coughlin, my Dad, Navy man who served in the South Pacific during World War II (he was a signalman aboard small ships, the wooden SC, and the steel-hulled PC;
--Arthur J. Sanders, my father-in-law, a Navy mechanic who served in the South Pacific in World War II;
--my Uncles Dick and Don Fitzpatrick; Bill, Connie (Fran), and Jack Coughlin; and Bill Brock, who served in World War II.
--And finally, to Michelle Zaremba, my niece, who served just recently in the 2nd Iraq War and won two Purple Hearts. Michelle has just published a book about her service in Iraq called Wheels on Fire. Check www.amazon.com or www.borders.com for the book.

And to all Veterans, we thank you and honor your service!