World War II veterans underscore values of honor and respect
I keep a photograph in the top drawer of my desk at home. It’s the same desk I have used since I was a college sophomore. It was old when I got it and has some cigarette burns on it. My dad took the photo near Nuremberg, Germany, at the end of World War II. The photograph is of a hay wagon loaded with emaciated skin and bone bodies sitting in front of a weathered-wood barn. Dad wrote on the back of the photo: “In case you don’t believe what you read in the papers.”
I have no idea of who dad sent the photograph to. He didn’t know my mom then. He met her after he got back home and she served him a cup of coffee at the lunch counter where she was working. Since it was part of his papers, I assumed that the person he sent it to must have given it back to him. I later started thinking that possibly, he had intended the message for me. He witnessed the horror of total war and even unintentionally shared it with me once when he went into a shell-shock induced shake. He just needed someone to hold. I was honored to be there.
Max Kammer had pictures like the one my dad sent home from Nuremberg. Max had a lot more photos of naked bodies stacked in piles like cord wood. He had taken the photographs himself when he was among the first U.S. soldiers to enter the infamous Buckenwald death camp. I hid the photo of the naked dead bodies that was in my dad’s belongings, but Max made some of the photos he took part of the display board he carried with him to local schools when he talked about the Holocaust.
I covered some of those presentations as a newsman. The young students looked at them in amazement, but Max told them what had happened in such a matter-of-fact cadence that they gained an insight into the true horrors of genocide and of war.
When my dad returned home from over there, he spent the rest of his life looking after his comrades who survived the war. He served as commander of the drill team at the James R. Hunt Post 639 of the American Legion, was a past post commander and organized several elements of the post’s annual Memorial Day observance. He also served as commander of the honor guard and provided military rites for all of his comrades who passed away. His family was his first concern, but he loved his Legion family just as much.
When I needed a Legionnaire to go with a group of us to Saltville, Va., in 1998 to conduct a service in memory of the men of the 5th and 6th US Colored Cavalry, Max was ready to volunteer. Moments after the conclusion of that first, highly emotional service, Max Kammer’s voice was the first voice I heard giving me words of encouragement and proclaiming his approval for the service. My mind was floating a million miles an hour, but Max reminded me of the work that remains to be done here on earth.
I drove down to High Point, N.C., back in 1999 to observe Max as he received the National Home Furniture Retailer of the Year from the National Home Furnishings Association. It was one of Tom Colley’s ideas for me to cover the event, but I was an eager participant. Still, I was unfamiliar with the turf, and while Harry, Alice Ann and Virginia Kammer — Max’s son, daughter and wife — were helpful, I was still a little out of my element and uneasy traveling around in a different city.
All of my personal insecurities vanished when the speaker announced Max Kammer’s name, and he made a few remarks accepting the award. Suddenly, I was proud of Max, proud of my dad and proud of every honest person who remains devoted to the principle of treating each person with respect. Dad had lots of jobs, but he was real good at selling cars because he treated his customers honestly and fairly. Max sold a lot of home furnishings through the years including some to me. He was honest and fair in his dealings just like my dad.
In fact, I have been thinking a lot about my dad since I learned of Max’s death last week. God blessed me with a great father. He was not perfect, but he was a great role model for me. I know I am not my father, but I strive to work hard to be the kind of person he could be proud of.
God also blessed me by putting friends like Max Kammer in my life. Rabbi Stan Funston’s remarks at Max’s funeral last week reminded me of just how blessed I have been.
Bill Archer is a senior editor at the Daily Telegraph. Contact him at barcher@bdtonline.com.
Columns
March 15, 2010
World War II veterans underscore values of honor and respect
- Columns
-
-
Memorial Day held special meaning for everyone in my family
-
Appalachian culture respects the legacy of honoring life — and death
- You will find no irony here
- A little fuss and feathers started 50-year admiration of the old reliable chicken egg
-
Congratulations to the Class of 2012
-
Day at the gun range brings excitement and renewed respect for safety
-
True story of the Rocket Boys of McDowell County will live on in Raleigh
- More business-like habits in Washington might rescue the country
-
Doppler Effect puts proper prospective on the changes that come with age
- Drive-ins, baby names, snakes, more
- More Columns Headlines
-
