Jack Le VineDid not march in the big Veterans Day parade up Fifth AvenueIn ManhattanOn ThursdayYou can also attend the small service at Brooklyn War Memorial.
HeThe block was occupied for the entire day. BrooklynHe was born in the brick-faced two-story brick house with an atrium. AmericanFlag out front and photos in window of aircraft carrier and cargo ship, and a handsome young male in a Navy uniform.
StillIt was a celebration and a surprise. ItI was inspired by a neighbor in the South SlopeNeighborhood where Mr. Le VineLives posted to the community bulletin board Nextdoor.com.
“A WW2 VetLives on 18th St. He’s 97, lives alone, and may not see another Veterans Day,” she wrote on Tuesday. “Please consider leaving a little token of gratitude.”
TheSoldiers and sailors of Mr. Le Vine’s generation are vanishing quickly now. Nearly99 percent of the 16,000,000 AmericansAccording to the, those who served in war have all died. National World WarII Museum. ThereAre there less than 5,000 World War II vets left in New York City.
Mr. Le VineHe stated that he didn’t know any of the men he served alongside are still alive. AndHe stated that he spends a lot of money on this. Veterans Day doing exactly “nothing.”
ButBy WednesdayEvening, the tributes were already underway. As Mr. Le Vine was taking outThe trash, a woman he’d never met handed him an envelope with “Jack the Hero” written on it. “I just want to thank you for your service,” she said.
ThenA man who lives down the street approached him with his two children. Mr. Le VineThe children and their classmates made a thick stack cards. “You’ll be reading these for days,” said the man, Chris Polony.
When Mr. Le VineHe poked his head out ThursdayHe found a potted amaryllis with a card attached to it and a drawing that depicted a soldier in camouflage on the bench by the gate. “ThankThank you for fighting for our nation. From Abigail, age 7.”
OnTwo additional letters were found on the porch near the screen door. Mr. Le VineA slight, but completely unbowed man who will not be 97 until JanuaryThey were bent over and picked up. “These people must love me on this block!” he said.
Mr. Le VineOne of seven children, he joined The NavyA few weeks before his 18th Birthday, his oldest brother, who was drafted into service in the United States Army, was drafted. Army and warned him against it: “He came home from basic training and he said, ‘AllThey teach you to crawl on your hands and knees through the mud. You get all slopped up.’”
The Navy, he said, promised “cleaner living.” HeTwo years of service in the PacificThe U.S.S. Lesuth, then was a machinist’s mate first class on the U.S.S. Gilbert IslandsThe aircraft carrier that sent fighter pilots into strike JapanesePositions in OkinawaThe Sakashima IslandsWhile Mr. Le VineThey worked in the engine room.
“When they said, ‘Man your battle stations,’ my battle station was the throttle,” he said. “I controlled the speed of the boat.”
OnTop of the china cabinet in his tidy dining room, a photo by Mr. Le VineAs a captain in New York City Fire Department — where he served for 20 years starting in 1957 — sits beside a photo of a woman with laughing eyes, his wife, Joan.
“SheDied of Alzheimer’s,” Mr. Le Vine said. “This was her bedroom — the bed was up against this wall. I took care of her six or seven years.”
HangingA vest with medals is visible from the knob. It was displayed by him when he taught. World WarII history to a small group of children in the living room several years ago. Mr. Le VineHe pointed out that the chairs were still lined up along the wall.
ThenHe saw movement outside the window, just behind the blinds. “Is somebody coming?” A woman left another card. BesideIt was a miniature cypress plant, a card, and a box of bread tied with string. Mr. Le VineRecognized as the neighbor’s handiwork. “That’s her famous banana bread.”
TheA woman who posted on Nextdoor, Elizabeth Dowling44 Mr. Le VineSince she moved to the block nine years ago, had been a friend. She said she had reached out to her neighbors because “when our vets return home, they’re often forgotten and ignored.”
A few more minutes later, there was another rustling. Mr. Le Vine went to the door and stopped — “No, wait a minute” — to grab a ball cap from a hook. “World WarII Veteran,” it said. “Proudly Served.”
OutsideWe were a mother who used in-line skates, and twin 8-years-olds who used scooters. TheThe girl made a flag out of pink, white, and turquoise tissue paper. She attached it to a paper towel tube then hung it from the gatepost.
“We are so, so grateful,” the mother, Ariel Clark, told Mr. Le Vine. “MyGrandfather was in Auschwitz.” HerThe voice became tighter and faster.
“My father was born in a displaced persons camp and so” — she gestured at her children — “without you, none of this would be possible.” SheI began to weep.
A droplet formed at he end of Mr. Le Vine’s nose. He squinted. HeYou shook hands with Ms. ClarkThey took a picture of their mother and their children and then returned inside. “My eyes water sometimes,” he said.
Source: NY Times
