A day just like today.
The second day of May.
Crisp and cold with a bright morning sky.
Laying asleep on blades of grass
near smoldering embers in ash of last night's fire.
Not sure if my eyes will ever open again, too tired.
Laying just away from the stench of the dead and those about to die.
A shove on my shoulder and then sounds of the motors.
Get up! Get up! My friend shouted.
The 82nd Airborne is here!
It was a day just like today.
Crisp and cold with a bright morning sky.
The second day of May, 1945.
Camp Woebbelin, near Ludwigslust, Germany.
The second day of May.
Crisp and cold with a bright morning sky.
Laying asleep on blades of grass
near smoldering embers in ash of last night's fire.
Not sure if my eyes will ever open again, too tired.
Laying just away from the stench of the dead and those about to die.
A shove on my shoulder and then sounds of the motors.
Get up! Get up! My friend shouted.
The 82nd Airborne is here!
It was a day just like today.
Crisp and cold with a bright morning sky.
The second day of May, 1945.
Camp Woebbelin, near Ludwigslust, Germany.
By Samuel A. Simon
In honor of Rabbi Laszlo Berkowitz. “A day just like today.” is what he said on May 2, 2006 as he and I walked together toward where Camp Woebbelin had been. His first time back. The experience was his.
©2018 All rights reserved Samuel A. Simon.
In honor of Rabbi Laszlo Berkowitz. “A day just like today.” is what he said on May 2, 2006 as he and I walked together toward where Camp Woebbelin had been. His first time back. The experience was his.
©2018 All rights reserved Samuel A. Simon.
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