Robert May: Called to serve here

Growing up in the small city of Lima in the 1950s and ‘60s, the May boys — Rusty, Bobby and David — were inspired by the explosive and sometimes gruesome war movies they watched on TV.

Using all their allowance and lawn-mowing money, they and their neighborhood friends outfitted themselves for “battle” at The Edco Supply Store on East Market Street. There, they found an abundance of Army-Navy surplus to make themselves feel like well-oiled fighting machines.

Our friends all had fathers who served at one time or another in the military. Larry Flippin’s father, Dean, was a Marine. Danny Marshall’s father, Charles, was in the Army. Steve Snyder’s father, Russell “Bud”, was in the Navy.

My own father, Homer May, was a section foreman on the Pennsylvania Railroad. That fact embarrassed me. I often wondered why my own father was never in the military.

My father had signed up for the draft in October 1940 but was never called up. Many years later, I asked my mother, Margie May, why Dad never enlisted.

Her reply was, “You know your father had two cousins at Pearl Harbor?”

I said, “Yes, I know.”

She informed me that the very day after the Pearl Harbor attack, my father went to the recruitment center to enlist. It was his greatest desire to serve his country.

However, his enlistment was deferred because it was determined that his civilian job on the railroad was more crucial to the security of the nation.

My mother continued, ”During the entire war, there was never a delay of a military train on his section of tracks on the Pennsylvania Railroad.”

As I sat quietly absorbing this new information about my father, Mom continued with her story.

“Your father tried a second time to enlist later in the war, when the government sent out a plea for more men, but he was immediately recognized by the same recruiter who had turned him down the first time in 1941. The recruiter said, ‘Homer, I’m going to enlist 100 young men today, but you, sir, will not be one of them.”

Hearing this, I realized how foolish it had been for me to be so blindsided by the glamor of soldiering. A real “hero” is always found among average people. Heroes do not need super costumes (or fatigues), nor do they have superpowers. They just try to do the right thing at the right time, no matter what.

My father didn’t show extraordinary courage and strength to drag a wounded soldier away from danger in combat or rescue a civilian from a catastrophic and life-altering event. He didn’t talk a would-be suicide victim down or be called upon to sacrifice his own life and limb, such as police do on any given day.

Yet, my mother proudly spoke of a gentleman who never, not once, had a delay of military personnel or supplies, if it was in his power to prevent it.

A true hero is someone who does something heroic for the benefit of others, no matter how terrified they are of the consequences. My father fought his own battle to keep material rolling for our great nation, never once questioning or regretting his role.

The American humorist, Will Rogers, once made an important observation. He said, “We cannot all be heroes because somebody has to sit on the curb and clap as they go by.”

I clap for you, Dad! I salute you and your service to the great nation of America.

ONLY ON LIMAOHIO.COM

See more stories from Salute to Veterans at LimaOhio.com/tag/vet.

— Robert “Bobby” P. May, Bluffton