On this Veterans Day, I'd like to honor my grandfather, John O. Boggs, who passed away in October of this year at the age of 93.
Just a few months after he married my grandmother, Lucy, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, and he knew he would be going to war. After basic training, he was pulled out to work at an army-run shoe factory, because he had experience with that work. He later became a quartermaster and was assigned to help supply units headed overseas.
He told me that one unit came through, and he really hit it off with their commanding officer, and so he asked to be reassigned to active duty with that unit. They approved his request, and he was sent to France, and later to Edinburgh, Scotland. He mostly told tales about the good times he had there, seeing parts of France with a buddy who spoke French, and about how much he enjoyed Edinburgh.
And when the war was over, he came home. He told me that it took him a little while to "get right" after all he'd seen, but then he and my grandmother started their family, and my father was born.
Just two years ago, he was awarded the World War II Cross of Military Service from the Daughters of the Confederacy.
I feel his loss so deeply, but I know that a great deal of who I am is due to the amazing person he was. He was an incredible force in my life, took care of me a great deal when I was young, was the best man at my wedding, and is the reason Devyn's name is hyphenated. I will always strive to live up to his personal integrity and code that he may live on in me and in my children.
Love you, Poppy.
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