Brittni was Grand Prize winner for her essay which was read by a Minister at a very moving Ceromony at the USS North Carolina.
The following is the essay written by our granddaughter, Brittni. Mr. Stewart is from NC, as are we; therefore, I felt it appropriate that the North Carolina Flag be present behind our great American Flag. To watch and listen to the interaction of this precious 12-year-old girl and this WW II Veteran was the most touching event I can recall in many years. Brittni's school took part in the "Love Your Country Honor Veterans" essay contest. She won with the following. She is so sensitive, and as I read this, my own tears flowed. I had not seen it until I was sent a copy of the final draft. Please be patient as it loads. Then read how our youth of today are learning of America's Past and the horrors of War.
This page is dedicated to *all* USA Veterans and *all* Allied Forces.
"What is a hero?"
Webster defines a hero as, "a mythological or legendary figure, often of divine ancestry, who is favored by the gods, endowed with great courage and strength, and celebrated for his bold exploits." To me, a hero isn't someone that is fictional or that was raised in nobility. A hero doesn't have to be someone considered better than anyone else. A hero is someone who has done something that he is looked up upon for. Someone who does something great… not because he felt he would be praised for it, but because he knew that it was the right thing to do. I know a real hero. His name is Mr. Erwin Stewart.
Now you may be thinking, "Who is Mr. Erwin Stewart and what has he done to deserve this great title?" Well, Mr. Stewart is an amazing man! He fought in World War II and was terribly wounded in the "Battle of the Bulge," but he never applied for a Purple Heart.
Mr. Stewart has watched his friends fall dead at his feet. He has gone days without food or rest. He has spent countless nights lying awake in his bed, recalling guns firing and people screaming.
Even now, so long after the war, Mr. Stewart has a hard time speaking of his experiences. At times, when he was telling me his story, his voice would crack, or he would have to wipe the teardrops from his eyes. Being the elderly man that he is, his face is wrinkled with wisdom and his eyes are sad. Almost like the eyes of a young child during a thunderstorm seeking his mother's comforting shoulder. Maybe those are the eyes that war gives a person. I really don't know… but I do know (to even imagine) what that poor man went through makes my eyes fill with tears.
Mr. Stewart told me of a time during the war when it became bitterly cold and his unit, and thousands of others, were cut off completely from the other allied forces. The temperature was just below 5 degrees, and they were surrounded by frozen snow at least 18 inches high. They could only sleep for ten minutes, at most; otherwise they would freeze to death. They were forced to eat snowballs for food.
After about four days of this misery, the sun came out and rations (or what they called "hash") were dropped to the ground by small parachutes in tin cans. With the enemy still firing, it was difficult to get to the rations, however, they had gone four days with no food. They took their chances to get to some "hash." The cans were frozen solid. In order to eat the food inside, the men had to put the frozen tin cans to their bodies to warm them enough to open.
Mr. Stewart was able to retrieve one can. The First Sgt. then asked him if he wished to go with him to a trashcan filled with rations. Mr. Stewart declined, still afraid of what the enemy might do to him. The First Sgt. eventually found another soldier willing to come along with him. Mr. Stewart watched as they approached the trashcan. He never heard a sound, but did see the First Sgt. fall to the ground, covered in his own blood. Mr. Stewart watched as the First Sgt. gasped for the last few breaths he could conjure; and then, he was no more. Mr. Stewart then cast his gaze on the other young man. He was screaming and clutching his shoulder… where his arm had been just seconds before.
As I listened and watched carefully, Mr. Stewart closed his eyes, no doubt trying to hold back the tears that were forming. He then opened his eyes slowly. He looked straight into my eyes and whispered, "That could have been me."
Sadly, that was not the most difficult story for Mr. Stewart to tell. The most upsetting to him was definitely the following…Mr. Stewart told me of a young Belgium girl who was working as a nurse for the injured soldiers. Mr. Stewart and the girl had become very good friends, and he learned that she was engaged to an American soldier. The young girl had noticed that there were a lot of parachutes out in an open field, not far away from the school that was being used as the hospital. She decided that it might be nice to use the material from the parachutes for her wedding gown. She ran into the field to retrieve the material. As the men watched her fetching the parachutes, a German sniper did the same. A single shot rang out and a faint scream could be heard. The young nurse dropped to the cold ground, no longer filled with the breath of life. No one would ever see her beautiful smile again, or hear her heartfelt laugh.
At this point in his story telling, Mr. Stewart could hold in his emotions no longer. A single tear dripped down his cheek. He later told me that the school was bombed a few weeks later. All medical personnel and wounded were killed.
The last thing that Mr. Stewart was assigned to do in the war was to guard the prisoners of war. One such prisoner had killed eight of our paratroopers. Mr. Stewart said that all of the prisoners were treated well.
Mr. Stewart was happy to have a bed and food.
Mr. Stewart explained to me that because he had enough points he was given a choice… return to the States and possibly be called back to Japan, or finish his duty where he was. He chose to stay, saying, "I had it good where I was. A nice bed and food in my belly every night." As it turned out, only months later Japan surrendered.
Mr. Stewart describes coming home on the USS Argentina. His eyes sparkled like diamonds as he recalled the most beautiful thing he had ever seen… the Statue of Liberty… and a small boat coming alongside the ship he was in, playing a "Welcome Home" song for the military men.
Mr. Stewart speaks of an unconditional love for his country… a country that welcomed him home with open arms… a country worth fighting for.
Mr. Erwin Stewart is a true hero. He is one of the greatest!
By: Brittni
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