For a few years the entire world was at war. World War II was fought bravely and its heroes ensured the freedom of America and indeed the rest of the world. It was in a great day from our past when it was still okay for the United States of America to fight on foreign shores. It was before the idea of fighting on foreign soil was perceived as having nothing to do with America’s role in the world’s peace and power balance and nothing to do with peace at home. Many fought and many died or were wounded. The free world pulled together and victory was gained. The world was going to be a safer place now; at least for awhile.
People returned home to the very prevalent farming communities that made up most of the United States, which this “Greatest Generation” inhabited. September 2, 1945 brought the final surrender of Japan, whilst victory had already been gained in Europe with the unconditional surrender of Germany on May 7, 1945. Now life could return to normal and the simple life of peace could be restored.
No one could have predicted that in the rural state of Maine, men, women and children would be once again called to bear arms just 2 short years later. During the middle of October in 1947 a new battleground broke out in Southern Maine, when fire began to spread across the parched land, which had not seen rain for 113 days. No one could have predicted that it would eventually burn up over 213,000 acres. No one was ready to do another life threatening battle, this time armed only with shovels, water buckets, and what we all used to call “Indian Tanks,” which were metal storage containers that had a hand pump powered nozzle and were strapped on your back. People sat up during the night with fear in their bellies as they stood vigil over their very homes and their livelihoods, which in this time and place meant their land.
Just when Maine was feeling a sense of recovery from World War II, this new battle front emerged. It threatened and even took lives. But it also took away something else. It stripped away the veil of deception that war was only about man versus man. It is truly man versus life, and life is unpredictable in when and where it will launch its next attack. This sometimes makes life fearful. The story doesn’t end there, however, because out of the ashes of whatever remained in Southern Maine emerged the heart and soul of my New England heritage. There was left standing in the charred and smoldering remains; men, women and children with their faces set to the future in total determination that they would persevere, overcome, rebuild and carry on. I was not born until nearly a decade later, but I heard the stories told by my parents and their peers. I saw the old burned stumps and trees, which even such a relatively short time later were now hidden in forests that were regenerating with their own determination to carry on, overcome and survive.
Life is like that. Sometimes just when you think everything is going fine, another challenge hits. Then perhaps another challenge hits soon after. Eventually though we persevere, set our faces and determine to carry on, overcome and survive. I for one, hope that one day I become wise enough to learn to be like those people that came before me and made up that “Greatest Generation.” They fought through life shoulder to shoulder, neighbor for neighbor and built the greatest free society that ever inhabited Earth. They did it with much grace, much courage and much faith. Blessings!

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