His hands shook ever so slightly and one sometimes had to strain to hear his voice, tempered by nearly nine decades and softened by chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.
But Ben Rayford’s words made a strong impact Thursday morning in Arendell Parrott Academy’s library. He delivered a message to the high school history students at the academy they won’t soon forget.
The 89-year-old World War II veteran and Snow Hill resident answered every question in depth posed to him by the Parrott students, except one. When a student asked him if he saw any of the Nazi concentration camps, Rayford slowly looked down, then up, quietly said, “Yes,” and then moved on to the next question.
For a split second, you could almost see in Rayford’s eyes the horrific things at those camps he’d witnessed but knew he couldn’t share with the teenagers in attendance.
That moment vividly reminded me of my grandfathers, who all fought in World War II. My Grandpa Hanks — whose Army portrait proudly hung in his home’s living room — was an infantryman on D-Day. He was always reluctant to answer any of mine or my little brother Darrell’s questions, and I can only recall a time or two when he’d give us snippets of his experience.
My Grandpa Akers never talked about the war … ever. I remember asking Grandma Akers about his reluctance to talk about it and she said he’d never told her any of his experiences, either, which I found odd for years.
But it’s a story told by my step-grandfather to Darrell and me when we were 8 or 9 I’ll never forget. Papa Dancy was a paratrooper on D-Day and he told us about hearing bullets whizzing past him after he jumped out of the airplane.
He went on to tell us about looking to his right and left as he was floating to the ground that fateful day behind enemy lines in France and seeing many of his friends and comrades already dead … and the awful sounds their bodies made when they hit the ground.
I hadn’t seen a look on a man’s face like those of my grandfather’s until Mr. Rayford decided not to expound on his concentration camp experience to those youngsters in the APA library.
Mr. Rayford, like my grandfathers with me and my brother, knew these young people were not ready to hear of the awfulness he’d witnessed.
He shared many other memories and thoughts, though, of how thankful the French were of their American liberators, of once standing face-to-face with Gen. George Patton and how he relates to, and his appreciation of, today’s service members returning home from Iraq and Afghanistan.
It was an amazing experience to share a few minutes with Mr. Rayford for those young Parrott students and for myself.
We are losing those heroes from World War II — perfectly nicknamed “The Greatest Generation” by Tom Brokaw — in a rapidly increasing manner. In 2001, President George W. Bush estimated we were losing 1,100 WWII vets a day, and that was 12 full years ago.
My charge to you on this beautiful spring day — one weekend before the aptly-named Memorial Day weekend — is to take a few minutes to sit down with one of these heroes. Take one of them out to eat, or just go to their home for a simple visit.
Listen to their stories and put them away in your memory banks, so you can share it with the next generation(s). That is a perfect way we can honor Mr. Rayford and his brothers and sisters in arms who helped give us the wonderful country and incredible lives we have today.
Bryan C. Hanks is the managing editor of The Free Press; his column appears in this space every Sunday. You can reach him at 252-559-1074 or at Bryan.Hanks@Kinston.com. Follow him on Twitter at BCHanks.