The man standing on the left of this picture is my wife’s grandfather, PFC Walker F. Nall. The setting is an Allied air field somewhere in France. The planes in the background are P-47 Thunderbolts.
Walker’s unit was part of the invasion forces for Operation Overlord, more commonly known as D-Day. However, at the moment he should have been wading ashore, dodging machine gun fire and heavy artillery from the Germans, Walker was in England at an Army hospital.
The troops were sequestered in camps for weeks leading up to the invasion. Very shortly before the invasion forces were ferried to the English coast to subsequently board ships for the crossing of the channel, Walker and a few friends were joyriding in a jeep. An accident occurred and all were taken to the base infirmary. Upon examination it was discovered that Walker and one other soldier were broken out in red spots. Fearful it could be contagious, the two were forbidden to rejoin their unit. Walker’s fellow soldiers proceeded to participate in the greatest invasion in the history of the world, while he lay on a cot in England.
It was later determined PFC Nall simply had a reaction to newly issued woolen underwear. Walker subsequently rejoined his unit in France and remained in the Army until the fall of 1945.
Some may say this was a funky act of fate, but his praying wife, Ruth, knew it was the good Lord’s way of keeping Walker out of harm’s way on that bloody day. Sadly, like many veterans of that era, speaking about their war experiences and how they felt about what they had to do, was simply not done. Somewhat like the Las Vegas mantra, their unspoken motto was “What happened in the war, stays in the war.” As such, exactly how Walker felt about missing D-Day and did he bear any survivor’s guilt for not being with his brothers in arms when they hit the beach, was something he took to his grave.