This is Emersyn’s writing assignment on war. Mimi and Nancy completed the assignment by sending the old photo of Papa to add to her work.

I sit at my grandfather’s feet as he recounts his time in the army during World War II. He tells me about the hard decisions he had to face during his deployment in the Philippines. He carefully explains, in the language of a 7 year old, how he was almost killed while patrolling the streets in the Philippines. Gently, he narrates when he was told, by his commanding officer, to fire on his own platoon during battle and how he was prepared to die at a young age of 18. Despite the somber mood in the room, I laugh at his showering story. He tells me that whenever it rained on the boat while traveling to the Philippines, he and his fellow soldiers would grab a bar of soap and shower on the top deck.

At the end of his account, his eyes are wet with tears. His voice is thick with emotion and a single tear escapes through the iron grip he has on his emotions. Seeing his dismay, I climb into his arms and hug him.

“It’s okay, Papa. I love you, ” I say, trying to comfort my sobbing grandfather. I cling to him fiercely and his graying mustache tickles my face. “That tickles!” I squeal as he lightly brushes a kiss on my forehead. Seeing my childish and fun demeanor, my grandfather’s mood lightens. A smile illuminates his face and the room is once again filled with happiness.

Being a young girl, about age 7 or 8, I couldn’t fully grasp the concept that my grandfather was so openly explaining to me. I only thought the things he was telling me were cool stories, but now I realize the full extent of what he experienced. He lived in a constant state of fear for his life. He never knew when he would get another meal, let alone another shower or any other comforts of a normal life.

I will never forget my grandfather’s stories and I try to always be grateful for what I have, instead of complain for what I don’t have.