Bob Wright
Hawkeye
There was a tremendous display of fireworks in my neighborhood last night, illegal though they may be. And fireworks always sort of remind me of my Dad:
It was September of 1944 and World War II was at its height. There was a fireworks display at the Fairgrounds called "The Bombing of Berlin" and my Dad took me to see it. (For his pleasure, too, I might add. He and I were cut from the same cloth.) It was a marvelous display to my young eyes. Not only the aerial bursts, but the cartoons in fireworks displays. The only one I remember was an LST landing a goose which waddled across your view and laid the golden egg. This all in fireworks!
As we were leaving, Dad picked up a cardboard wad from one of the mortars, scorched in places. Waking up the next morning he had placed that wad next to my bed. Written in ink, in his beautiful handwriting was the legend: "Robert's first fireworks the Bombing of Berlin Sept. 1944"
I kept that wad for many years but time and moving have parted me from it.
Bit I still remember it.
Bob Wright
It was September of 1944 and World War II was at its height. There was a fireworks display at the Fairgrounds called "The Bombing of Berlin" and my Dad took me to see it. (For his pleasure, too, I might add. He and I were cut from the same cloth.) It was a marvelous display to my young eyes. Not only the aerial bursts, but the cartoons in fireworks displays. The only one I remember was an LST landing a goose which waddled across your view and laid the golden egg. This all in fireworks!
As we were leaving, Dad picked up a cardboard wad from one of the mortars, scorched in places. Waking up the next morning he had placed that wad next to my bed. Written in ink, in his beautiful handwriting was the legend: "Robert's first fireworks the Bombing of Berlin Sept. 1944"
I kept that wad for many years but time and moving have parted me from it.
Bit I still remember it.
Bob Wright