THEY CHANGED THE WORLD

WE WAIT ALONGSIDE them in the grocery checkout line and hurry past them on the street. They are members of our churches and grandparents to our children, but how often do we pause to ponder the content of their lives?

Lynn Guilloud was a farm boy from North Texas, so poor that when his dad dropped him off for his first semester at Texas A&M University in 1938, he had $68 in his pocket and no place to lay his head.

But he went on to graduate with a mechanical engineering degree in 1942. And he became a company commander in the U.S. Army, leading three platoons onto the beach at Normandy.

At 89, Guilloud lives in the M Streets with his second wife, Mary, whom he married nine years ago.

Guilloud says he hasn’t always been forthcoming with war stories, but now he talks freely and at length about his World War II experiences.

Whenheturnstomemoriesofmen66 years dead, his voice cracks, and he pounds a fist three times, hard, against his thigh. He inhales deeply and pauses for a moment, but he doesn’t cry.

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As teenagers and 20-somethings, they traveled to distant countries, knowing they might die there, and returned to lives forever altered by their experiences. They risked their lives, left jobs, and cast passions and aspirations aside until their missions were fulfilled. Indeed, all who served in World War II — in battle or supporting roles — deserve unyielding gratitude, but as each Veterans Day passes, the time for thanks dwindles. We can still shake their hands and hear their stories, but for how much longer?

According to the U.S.Department of Veterans Affairs, the ranks of World War II vets are shrinking by about 1,200 a day nationwide.

A few of those who have retired in the East Dallas area take time to recall, for those of us who weren’t there, an era that shaped the world. If you run into one of them today, it might be the right time to say

“This is ancient history to most people,” he says. “Don’t romanticize it. Just tell the facts.”

On the morning of June 6, 1944, Allied Forces totaling some 160,000 men landed on the beach at Normandy. Guilloud was 23 years old, and he was in charge of about 100 of them.

“Allied planes were thick,” he says. “The sky was almost black with them.”

From his boat, a Landing Craft Tank, he could see smoke rising from the beach. Their vehicles had been meticulously waterproofed, and they pulled them off in about four feet of water.

“We got on the beach at 9:30, about three hoursaftertheinitiallanding,andthe seawall had not been blown as planned,” he says.

As it turned out, they had landed one kilometer off course, which caused much confusion. They got enough men together to lift a Jeep and an anti-tank gun over the seawall before they found the blown gap