What Memorial Day Means to Me

Memorial Day isn't about having a good time and partying, or even getting together with family members. It is about honoring those who have died in our nation's wars and remembering that they gave their life to serve our country and provide for the freedoms we enjoy in the United States. We should live our lives in such a way to give htem all the respect they deserve. I have a lot of ancestors who served in a war but one man stood out to me. Not because he was in history books or in newspapers, but because he was just a normal man whose story of how he got to war and whose love of his country touched me. My ancestor, Roy Angus Hill was not born in the United States but in Victoria, Canada in 1918. he immigrated to the US in 1922 at only 4 years old. I understand how young 4 is as my niece is 4 years old. He enlisted in the United States Army when he was 22 years old. I have a brother that's almost 22 years old. Roy served in the 44th Infantry Battalion, Sixth Armored Division of the Third Army and was led by General George Patton. Roy arrived in France in July of 1944. He was ready to make our country proud, and he was prepared. He was part of Patton's great drive across Europe, and was part of the great rescue of the 101st Airborne at Bastogene, in the Battle of the Bulge, as a Tech Class 4. Those who held this rank were often addressed as Sergeant. Technicians possessed specialized skills that were rewarded with a higher pay grade. I don't know much about World War II, or Technician 4's, or the Battle of the Bulge, but my father showed me pictures of men digging holes for safety in a frozen land, in December, in Belgium. And of tanks, and the things of war. I've also seen images of war from Ukraine. Roy died the 1st of April in 1945 in Butbach, Germany, one month before the Germans surrendered, when he was 25 years old. I have a brother that's 25. Roy Hill was not even able to be buried in the United States but instead was transported for burial in Margraten, Limburg, Netherlands. I can hardly say the names of these lands, and probably will never be able to visit. Not one of Roy's family members has visited Roy in the Netherlands. No one has been able to lay flowers on his grave. So I choose to think of him more. to visit those I am able to visit more, to try hard in school so I can become a better citizen, and understand more the freedoms I am so fortunate to enjoy. This year, especially for Memorial Day, I remember Roy. Breyer Schenewark