Last month, the world commemorated the Normandy invasion that broke Hitler’s grip on Europe 70 years ago.
I toured that French coastline 20 years ago, and I’ll never forget it. The beaches and surrounding countryside are an open-air monument to military history. During low tide, rusted barges jut from the waves where they were scuttled to create artificial breakwaters. At Omaha Beach, Americans were tasked with scaling 100-foot cliffs under constant fire from German bunkers at the summit. They had the toughest assignment that day and the deepest losses. I spent most of the visit driving through the region with a surprisingly patriotic lump in my throat.
For this edition of Drexel Magazine, I got to talk to five of Drexel’s alumni veterans — one who fought in each major modern conflict — who agreed to share their memories of war and college. At a time when poor treatment of veterans by military hospitals is once again in the news, it’s important to remember why we honor those who served. It’s not enough to say thank you. We should also be asking, how are you doing now? Are you getting what you need?
Drexel tries to do that. In 2009, the government began offering universities and colleges the option to join its Yellow Ribbon program, a more robust version of the GI BillTM. Under the program, universities share the cost of a college degree with the Department of Veteran Affairs — covering virtually 100 percent of tuition, fees, housing and books — for service members who enlisted after 9/11.
It’s a very nice deal, and Drexel takes it further than most schools. There are no caps on enrollment, and veterans can study any field they choose. Read about the program, and the story of Drexel’s military connections past and present, inside. (Veterans, if you have a memory to share of being a soldier- scholar, send a short note to [email protected]. We’ll print as many letters as we have space for.)
On a personal note, my grandfather served in WWII. His service was always a bit of a mystery. He didn’t speak of it, but several times during the war, government agents came to my grandmother’s home to notify her that he was missing and presumed dead — so apparently his service was a mystery to them, too. When he eventually returned home, he gave my grandmother a small brown sack filled with a dozen scabby-looking pebbles.
Sapphires, he told her. Skeptical, she scribbled “sapphires” on the sack and put it into her jewelry box. And that was that.
After my grandmother passed away, my mother took the sack to a jeweler. Sure enough, un-cut sapphires.
The moral of this story: Hold onto memories and make time to revisit them. They’re very valuable.
Sonja Sherwood / Editor