Well I certainly am way off base in this challenge. I thought I read, “WHAT 3 COUNTRIES I WANTED TO VISIT AND WHY.” The plan is to merge both topics into this one post. Fortunately, I have already visited two of the three countries, Mexico and Italy, therefore I felt very lucky to write about the one I have left to visit.
Name someone who deserves more credit than they get. And for bonus points, how to change things so they get more (pssst: blogging itself is a way to give people more credit)
Australia is waiting to grace the sole of my bare feet. In this life, it is one country I long to see, and must see before I die. It was my Father’s wish, in fact he made me promise him if I ever got the opportunity to go I would not hesitate for any reason.
Sydney, Australia, in fact, because that was where Paul C Depew, my father, and his fellow crew members went after their misadventure from the morning of 7 December 1941, while beneath the waters of Pearl Harbor during the bombing by the Japanese Navy.
At 17, he joined the Navy for one reason: the food he saw served to some sailors one day. My Father was a gentle man. His story about his submarine coming up from beneath the water, finding men, fine soldiers, screaming for their lives in the waters that blazed with fire from the oils bursting from the bombed ships, nothing short of a horror film that Oliver Stone himself would direct. It haunts me still, but not nearly as much as it did the man telling it. He was so frightened, he said he wet his pants, but refused to show the fear, because of his upper ranking Sargent that sat coldly behind his weapon, puffing of a cigar while discharging his weapon at the enemy.
Sydney was like going to heaven after certain death as far as my Dad was concern. He knew in his heart it was where I could live life full of the adventures he knew I love to live. The saddest part of all this, his submarine was not acknowledged in the lists of ships and submarines that were in the harbor at the time. Apparently, they had made an unauthorized stop on the way to the designated duty. Now I am near 60 years old, and have not forgotten the promise I made to a hero of my heart, my Dad. When I do go, it will be to honor, giving credit, homage, to the man-child that suffered the nightmares of World War II for the rest of his life.