I’ve known many World War II heroes in my life. But most of them didn’t emphasize this often little-known fact about themselves to others. The years they spent in the war never came up in conversation, except sometimes incidentally. My Dad, three of his brothers, and three of my mother’s brothers served in WWII and came home with medals. In my Dad’s case, he received a Purple Heart, two Oak Leaves (essentially 2 additional Purple Hearts), four Presidential Unit Citations, the European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Ribbon, and a Combat Infantry Badge. He also came home with a piece of shrapnel still behind his ear. He never talked about it.I don’t think my Dad ever knew the profound impact his years of service had on the world. There are two kinds of heroes. Heroes who shine in the face of adversity, who perform an amazing feat in a difficult situation. And heroes who live among us, who do their work unceremoniously, unnoticed, but who make a difference in the lives of others. My dad was a hero in both regards.
Last week, I was able to spend some time in the company of WWII veterans who are also heroes. They came to the Netherlands to commemorate the 70th Anniversary of the Liberation of the Netherlands. One American veteran named Armando Marquez, ninety years young, was in the 101st Airborne and dropped into the Netherlands in 1944 during Operation Market Garden. He was flown by the Dutch government from El Paso, Texas to the Netherlands with his wife Christina of sixty-six years and his daughter Martha to attend the week-long ceremonies to commemorate the 70th anniversary of the Liberation. I met with him at a lunch stop in a tank and military vehicle procession and got to know a little bit about him. We bonded as fellow Texans, he said he was glad to know someone from home. This was his first trip back to Europe since the war. In coming back, I think he was starting to know the impact his service made on this world. His regret was that from his company, he was the only still living.
Many attending the procession wanted Armando’s autograph, some wanted to ask him questions about the war, and others just wanted to say thank you. During our conversation, we were interrupted many times by others who wanted some of his time. I commented to him that he was like a “rock star”, considering the following he had among the attendees. I asked his wife if he told any stories of the war and she mentioned that he wouldn’t keep quiet about it. Armando leaned over and said he only told the good stories.Armando’s first jump during combat was in Normandy and his second jump during Operation Market Garden, when he landed in Son, Netherlands. He lost his helmet during the jump and grabbed one from a soldier who unfortunately would not need his after his jump. In Armando’s home in El Paso, he has a photo of a German tank in the streets of Eindhoven, newly decorated with American flags after the liberation.
Later, I asked Armando if he realized that these people thought he was a hero. I mentioned to him I talked to a gentleman during the procession who was a eight-year-old boy during the Liberation of Eindhoven seventy years earlier. This man remembered the tanks and military men in the streets that day and in his mind, those men saved his family and his country. Armando smiled and didn’t answer for a while. He said that he supposed that perhaps they thought he was. His smile was slow. It is worth celebrating seventy years if for only to let one veteran know that his courageous efforts and service in the World War II really mattered. Armando is an ordinary hero from Texas whose actions seventy years ago defined greatness.
