In the fall of 1943, my father enlisted in the United States Marine Corps. Prior to his departure for boot camp, and having lost his father when he was just 13, my dad was counseled by his older brother to always make decisions that would give him the best chance to return home.
After intensive training at Camp Pendleton, CA, the 4th Marine Division shipped out on January 13, 1944, just five days after my dad’s 20th birthday. Over the next 13 months, the 4th Marine division made four major amphibious assaults in the battles of Roi-Namur, Saipan, Tinian, and Okinawa, with the allies suffering almost 18,000 casualties.
My dad was always reluctant to talk of his wartime experiences and it wasn’t until I was returning home from a stay in Spain in 1979 and had a layover in Chicago that I learned more. I spent the night with the family of my dad’s best friend from his Marine Corps days and at that time, I asked Keith why he had befriended my dad. Keith was a worldly man, quite the opposite of my father, and in less exceptional circumstances, their friendship would seem unusual to the casual observer. “Your dad was always in the right place at the right time and made good decisions under pressure,” he said. “Once we were in a foxhole with several other Marines while we were being shelled. For some reason, he looked at me and said, ‘I am out of here’ and he scrambled out of the foxhole and ran to one about 50 yards from us. I had the distinct impression to follow him and almost immediately upon diving into that foxhole, the one we had just been in was hit by enemy shells and everyone in it perished. That was just one of many experiences. From that time on, wherever your dad went, I went as well.”
Growing up I had always appreciated my dad and sought his advice, but never until that point did I realize how his decisions during the war had impacted me and his example of always doing what was right. This has helped guide my decisions throughout my life as I focus on trying to do the right thing regardless of the consequences. While my dad did not escape injury (as evidenced by the residue of gunpowder stains he wore on his back for the rest of his life), he made it through these battles and returned home.
Amid the horrors of war, my dad kept on him at all times a photo of his best-girl, the woman who later would become his wife and my mom. Together they set the standard of doing what is right, forming family traditions that have been preserved and practiced into the fourth generation: caroling around the neighborhood on Christmas Eve, service at the food bank and shelters, and helping those in need. Today, my parents are both gone. But memories remain. I am sure this family is what my dad dreamed about on those battlefields of the Pacific almost 80 years ago.
– David Allred
David Allred works as the Vice President of Management Services for a transportation company. For nearly a quarter century, Dave worked for the Utah Jazz of the NBA. Upon leaving the Jazz, a sportswriter wrote, “He is John Stockton in a suit. He is Karl Malone, without the muscles.” Though he’s run half marathons for years, he recently completed his first full marathon. He and his wife Julie have six children.