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airtwardo

~My Own 'personal' Bridge Day~

By airtwardo, in The Bonfire

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airtwardo    7

airtwardo
Picture it...

A 17 year old kid out 4 wheelin’ in a jeep with buddies, cruising slow through the tall grass following the river.

Been going pretty much ‘balls out’ all morning to get to the spot you’re at, but experience tells ya
it’s time to be a little safe and take it easy thorough this particular section.

You come up to the top of a rise in the terrain and there it is just a few miles ahead...

The last standing bridge across the Rhine river into the heart of Germany.

The day is March 7th 1945, and the ‘kid’ is my father.

A small town boy from Illinois that quit high school to fight for his country, in the war to end all wars.


Trained as a tank driver, he was somewhat surprised to find himself reassigned as a machine gunner on the lead scout jeep in a re-con unit for the 9th armored division.

He said it took him all of 4 hours to figure out why he’d been ‘reassigned’, or rather...
just ‘why’ the seat he was now filling was EMPTY!


Sitting up high, on a jeep mounted .30 cal machine gun for the 89th Cavalry Re-Con (mechanized) company ‘C’, 9th Armored Division...was a job with shall we say, a rather significantly high ‘turn over’ rate.

I’d heard the story many times, and my dad took me to see the movie about this important World War 2 battle back in 1969 when it came out.

I’ve always, from that time, wanted to see where he’d fought, where he’d walked, what was left of ~

“The Bridge At Remagen”



Last week I went.




The wife and I entered town from the opposite direction that my dad did six decades ago.

It’s a small, quaint, sleepy little village along the Rhine.
As we came into town and followed the narrow streets down toward the river, I looked up and said, “It’s farther down to the right.”

My wife asked how I could know that and I pointed out the high peak a mile up river and told her that’s where the 88's were positioned to shoot straight down on the American attackers.

I had seen the little black and white photos dad took hundreds of times, and the images were ingrained.

A dozen blocks more and I turned down an alley that lead right to the approach to the bridge.



I’ve been a lot of places and seen a lot of things, but nothing could prepare me for the rush of raw emotion and sense of awe that I felt, standing in the shadow of the black stone relics I had been told about since a child.

It was all I could do to keep my composure and sit on the steps leading into what is now a museum, looking across the river at the matching set of black stone towers that once held machine guns aimed at my father.


My wife touched my shoulder and handed me the hat that earlier that morning I’d sewn the 9th Armored patch from dad’s uniform on.

Squeezing my hand as I took it from her, she said simply, “I’ll meet you inside” and knowingly walked away.


I must have sat there for an hour, thinking of the 17 year old kid.....who lied about his age so he could join the Army.

The kid who grew up without a father, who sent all his money home to his mother to help raise the other 8 kids in the family.

The kid who crawled in the dirt beneath me, with bullets and anti-aircraft shells impacting all around him, and what he must have been thinking then.

I’m sure he wasn’t betting on another day alive, much less having a son that 61 years later would be sitting here gazing across the same expanse of water.

He'd come home from that war, married the prettiest gal in town then supported them both while he earned a Masters Degree at Bradley University.

....Not bad for a High School 'drop-out'!



It was getting hard to breathe and even harder to see, so I walked up toward the door to the museum inside of the once heavily defended towers.

As I reached for my wallet to pay the admission fee, the older German gentleman at the door pointed to my hat...

”Father or Grandfather” he asked, ‘Father’ I replied with a tightness in my throat...

”Go ahead, he already paid ”.

I just nodded and went in. I couldn’t muster any words...


The museum was interesting, it told of the history of the bridge and the town.

It highlighted the strategic importance of capturing this ‘highway’ across the Rhine and how it likely shortened the war by at least a month and probably saved 10,000 lives all told.

I read everything in there and took well over 100 pictures, but I kept wandering back outside.

I crawled all over the structure and walked in and around places not usually ‘open’ to the public.

I found a rusty piece of iron and stuck it into a bullet hole in the stone face, chipping out a small rock.

Maybe a hole from bullet that was meant for my father...I dropped the stone in my pocket.

To me, more precious than gold.



Going back inside to get my honey, who was giving me both space and support...something not easily done, I took her hand and whispered, “Let’s go”.

I again nodded to the man selling tickets, this time I was able to thank him properly.

He handed me a pen and said,
“You MUST sign guest book”
...took me to a corner I hadn’t noticed, opened the book and patted me on the back.

I didn’t pause for a moment before I began writing...




~~10-10-06: James Twardowski,
Proud son of Arthur Twardowski- 89th Cav. Re-Con 9th Armored Div.
It’s with honor that I walk in your footsteps, in my heart knowing always,
I could never fill your shoes. I love you Dad.~~





It’s been a tough few months for my family, dad has suffered a series of major strokes and other serious medical setbacks.

He’s been in the hospital for some time, and we’ve been told, he won’t ever come home.

He’s done quite well for himself, and us.
...he’s getting the best care possible, but all we can really do is try to make him comfortable until the end.

My father and I have always been close.
It’s a constant cloud over me of late, and of course the sadness of what’s coming does weigh.


For some reason, for a while that day anyway, that weight seemed off my shoulders.

I was walking a little lighter, a bit straighter...

I’d actually gotten to be with the ole man again, in a way I’d never imagined, a way I'll never forget!




I don’t particularly have a lot of pride in who I am, what I’ve accomplished...


But thankfully, there IS some of him inside me...and ya know...that’s enough.










~ If you choke a Smurf, what color does it turn? ~

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BillyVance    34

BillyVance
Awesome post... brought a tear to my eyes.

My grandfather served in the Pacific campaign against the Japanese. Although he already had my dad before WWII began, we were happy to have him back home for a couple more decades.
"Mediocre people don't like high achievers, and high achievers don't like mediocre people." - SIX TIME National Champion coach Nick Saban

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tharv17    0

tharv17
Awesome story!

I took a trip through Holland two years ago that followed the path of 30 Corps during Operation Market Garden. I had done a lot of research as well as read the book and seen the movie, "A Bridge Too Far" but nothing compares to just standing where such battles took place. I got enormous goose bumps and both of my grandfathers fought in the pacific.

Thanks for the pics and the story, gave me a whole new set of goose bumps.

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ryno1972    0

ryno1972
Quote

He’s been in the hospital for some time, and we’ve been told, he won’t ever come home.



Well....I am sure he felt that way 60 years ago, except he was pinned down by 88's and MG49's!!

I really liked your story, I am in awe of the bravery of people like you Dad. I am in the military, but have not been put in a situation even remotely as dangerous as your Dad and his buddies.

Thanks for sharing, hope you Dad pulls through.

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