by Sean Russell Strickland

I gazed at my Great-Uncle Benny, sitting in the sturdy rocking chair. His massive hand rested on my shoulder as I stood proudly before my class. I grinned at him and then at the class. From the back row, Mrs. Winkle nodded to me with a warm smile. "Go ahead, Jacob."

I swallowed nervously as I spoke my first words. "For show-and-tell today, I brought my best friend." I paused and watched several of my classmates’ eyes double in amazement. "This is my Great-Uncle Benny. He was a part of the greatest invasion in American history—D-Day."

Several kids gave each other stunned looks. Whispers erupted in the room. "He," I paused, "is a true hero."

I sat down with the rest of my classmates as Uncle Benny began to tell his story. "Today I’m going to tell you a little about D-Day. That day changed my life, and actually, life for all of us—even you," he said in a deep, gruff voice as he waved a long finger at his young audience.

"I remember the day starting out like any other," he began. "We ate breakfast, even slept some. All my fellow soldiers were stuffed into boats. We squeezed so tightly together that it felt like we were a can of sardines," he said with a smile. "Well, because of our nervousness and the roughness of the seas, they gave each of us a little bag in case we felt sick."

Christopher Thomas shot up onto his knees. "Barf bags?"

"Christopher!" Mrs. Winkle said crossly. Christopher’s grin quickly disappeared as he sat back down.

My uncle nodded. "Only a few of us didn’t get sick during the long journey to the coast of France."

Super Show-and-Tell

As my uncle continued, I sat with the rest of my classmates, thinking how lucky I was to have someone like Uncle Benny. Most of the other kids brought in a hamster or a brand new fishing pole for show-and-tell. The day before, I’d told my friends that my show-and-tell was going to be the greatest of all time.

"What is it?" Tony Frank had asked. The other kids were anxious to know, too. When I didn’t reply, they begged me to tell.

"A real superhero’s coming to class. My great uncle. He was a U.S. Ranger," I said.

"For real?" they asked.

"He sure was," I said as I walked toward an abandoned swing.

"He wasn’t no hero," Billy Thornton said mockingly. "Especially not a superhero."

"Wait and see," I said, taking a seat in the swing. "A long time ago, before your parents were even born, he fought in World War II."

"So?" Billy replied unimpressed.

I ignored Billy’s words as I began swinging until I was over the heads of my friends, scraping the blue sky with the bottom of my shoes. Finally, I spoke up.

"So he fearlessly charged onto a beach with bombs and bullets flying everywhere. He wasn’t afraid of nothing! In fact, I hear rumors that the enemy soldiers wanted to surrender just at the sight of him. I know I would’ve."

"A U.S. Ranger? Wow!" Tony said. "And he’s coming to our class?"

"Yep, sure is!" I hurled myself off the swing, landing squarely on my feet. "A real superhero."

Remembering

I grinned at the events of the previous day. I had been right. This would be the greatest show-and-tell of all time at Washington Carver Elementary.

"As we came closer to shore, " my uncle’s story broke into my thoughts, "we could see the tracers of bullets flying everywhere, bombs exploding and kicking dirt up into the sky. Hundreds of soldiers covered the front of the beach. We were all scared, but it was for folks like you that we fought. It was our job," he said, looking each child in the eye.

"Without warning, our personnel carrier stopped. The ramp lowered and one of our men leaped off only to find himself in deep water. The boat operator had become scared and stopped the craft too far out from shore. We pulled our man back inside. When the carrier stopped the second time and we leaped out into the cold water, it only came up to our knees.

"As we scurried up the beach, I looked around. An incredible sight met my eyes. As far as I could see, ships littered the ocean. Thousands upon thousands of men were coming ashore. Unfortunately, many did not survive that day," Benny said as he paused and looked down at his trembling hands. Silence filled the room.

At that moment, I realized something was wrong. Why had he stopped? Then I noticed tears rolling down his white-whiskered face.

"I’m sorry," he said, removing his glasses and wiping his eyes quickly.

Oh no! I thought. Panic overtook me. My uncle was crying. I looked at Tony, Billy and the others. What would they think? Some superhero, they’d snicker. I knew for sure they’d soon be laughing and mocking me.

"On that day," Uncle Benny finally continued, "many men gave their lives, some of them . . . my friends. Many men had been wounded and fallen to the ground as they’d come ashore. When the tide began to come in, some of them were slowly swept out to sea or drowned. D-Day was a day of triumph and a day of tragedy." He stopped again as his emotions welled up.

Suddenly, Ashley Parker stood up and walked over to the rocking chair. I watched in surprise as she extended her arms and hugged my uncle. Another second passed before the others in the class also gathered around. Before long, most of them were crying—even Mrs. Winkle dabbed a tissue at the corners of her eyes. Probably no one knew why they were crying, exactly—they just were. Perhaps they just wanted to share the burden, to offer a little comfort.

A large part of me felt very ashamed. I’d cared more about myself than my uncle’s feelings.

When the hour was up, the class clapped enthusiastically. Some kids even asked for my uncle’s autograph.

Just then, Billy Thornton walked over to me. I braced myself for the sting of mean words and mocking laughter.

"Your great-uncle’s cool," he said as he gently hit my shoulder. "I wish he were my uncle." I nodded, both surprised and relieved. I realized that his approval mattered less to me now than it had a few moments before.

I walked my uncle to the classroom doorway.

"Did I do a good job?" Uncle Benny asked. "I was a bit nervous."

"You? Nervous? After what you told us you did?"

"Well, I hope I didn’t embarrass you, Jacob."

I looked down sadly.

"What’s wrong, Jacob?"

"When you began to cry, I was worried more about what the other kids would think about me than about how you were feeling. I only thought about myself." I looked down, unable to look my uncle in the eye.

Then I felt long fingers lift my chin until my tear-filled eyes met his—eyes that seemed as vibrant as they were ancient.

"It’s okay, Jacob," he said calmly. "Thank you for having me. Thank you for remembering."

Note:
On June 6, 1944, thousands of American, British, Canadian and French soldiers stormed a 50-mile stretch of Normandy beach on the coast of France. By the end of the day, more than 2,500 Allied soldiers had been killed. This story is based on a firsthand account of D-Day from Victor "Baseplate" Miller.

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