H.D. Ingles at around 4 years old.
This is a childhood memory that happened in either 1943 or ’44. I was four or five, so some things are vague. During this incident, however, there are two things which I remember quite well.
A young man came to visit us. He was home on furlough from the War. I had sisters in their late teens and early twenties, so a young man wasn’t unusual.
His name was Ty. One thing which I remember very well is that Ty was a big, strong man. He was wearing his uniform and it had an armful of stripes and a chest covered with ribbons. Ty was in the Army Air Corps and assigned to bombers in Europe.
As an aside, in later years, one of my sisters told me that Ty was, indeed, a very big man. She also said that Ty was a gentleman and he was the most handsome man she had ever known.
Ty was a nice guy and he didn’t want to ignore me, so he picked me up. This is where the second thing I remember well comes into play.
Before I continue, you must understand something. I was very young and I really didn’t know what “war” meant except that it was very serious and that a lot of brave men were being killed. In other words, in my young brain, I knew that Ty was a brave man.
Ty picked me up and hoisted me over his head. Well, Ty misjudged and he tossed my head right into the chandelier. I remember that it hurt. But what I remember most is that I wanted to cry but I didn’t. I refused to cry in front of a brave man.
Not much of a story but something I shall never forget.
