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Tomorrow is the 65th Anniversary of the Normany landing. This is an appropriate piece to be on the front page -- promoted by teacherken
(This is a companion piece to go with "I Remember Pearl Harbor," posted on RaisingKaine)
By June of 1944 I was at the end of eighth grade in upstate New York public school; next year would be high school, but first we students had to survive the New York State Regents' exams, a series of lengthy state-wide examinations in each of our subjects, conducted with all the formality and tension of ancient Chinese Mandarin exams, and every bit as crucial to one's future. In those days graduating from what we called Junior High (now known as "middle school") was a real milestone; many if not most of my fellow students would go straight into the work force and never attend school again. In fact, finishing eighth grade in those days was quite an honor since many left school after sixth grade, so the hurdle of the fiendish Regents' caused fear and trembling. My first Regents' exam was on the 6th of June.
During the previous winter I had had polio, was temporarily unable to walk, and had just recovered but was still unsteady on my pins. School was about a mile from our house; thanks to gas rationing (we had an "A" card) I had to waver to school and back every day on my own, but on the morning of the 6th my Mother drove me to school. Not because I had trouble walking, but because we wanted to listen to the news on the car radio. The Allies had started landing in Normandy, and we knew my father was there, since he commanded an infantry battalion in the 1st Infantry Division, the Big Red One.
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