Post by T/5. Joseph Shelton on May 4, 2012 3:00:51 GMT
It had been quite some time since Shelton stepped foot on the battlefields of Europe. Over a year ago he had suffered severe wounds when a German grenade detonated just feet from him while he tended to wounded. The immediate recollection after the blast is gone from his memory banks forever. His earliest recalling was waking up in a hospital bed back in England. It was there he began a long and tense fourteen month rehabilitation.
Shelton had to learn how to nearly do everything again. Move, sit, stand, walk, eat. It was a miracle that he was even alive. And being told his time in the service was over only made him angry. He refused to be told no. To be told he couldn't. He would spend nearly every day improving himself. Within the first six months, the Army's board of medical professionals had declared him 80% disability. Not good enough.
For over a year, Shelton would learn to redo everything he spent his growing up learning. And he gave inspiration not only to himself, but to everyone around him. The staff who worked with him, his fellow patients, and the public, who heard of his exploits in the news. He didn't become a star for his actions, but would have refused any war bond tour the Army offered him. He wanted to return to combat. Finally after being declared fit for service, Shelton's appeal was heard before a war commission. They decided he could return, and Shelton was on a C-47 for England that very afternoon.
Returning was a bittersweet occasion. He was back in his element, but not with those he left. Having been gone for so long, his old unit had moved forward, and it would be near impossible to relink with them. Not impossible, but for now, Shelton had to report to the theater headquarters in order to be properly processed. Being dropped off out of a deuce and a half, Shelton made his way to the Headquarters and Service office, located within base a few miles south of London.
He turned his papers in to a staff aide. Some Corporal deemed too feeble for the front, as most of the clerks were. Shelton was asked to wait while his papers were reviewed. He took a seat at some benches lined up against a wall opposite of the counter. Taking out a small pocketbook from his inner breast coat of his Class A's, he began to read.
(Leaving this open if anyone wishes to contribute. If in a few days no one has I'll wrap it up).
Shelton had to learn how to nearly do everything again. Move, sit, stand, walk, eat. It was a miracle that he was even alive. And being told his time in the service was over only made him angry. He refused to be told no. To be told he couldn't. He would spend nearly every day improving himself. Within the first six months, the Army's board of medical professionals had declared him 80% disability. Not good enough.
For over a year, Shelton would learn to redo everything he spent his growing up learning. And he gave inspiration not only to himself, but to everyone around him. The staff who worked with him, his fellow patients, and the public, who heard of his exploits in the news. He didn't become a star for his actions, but would have refused any war bond tour the Army offered him. He wanted to return to combat. Finally after being declared fit for service, Shelton's appeal was heard before a war commission. They decided he could return, and Shelton was on a C-47 for England that very afternoon.
Returning was a bittersweet occasion. He was back in his element, but not with those he left. Having been gone for so long, his old unit had moved forward, and it would be near impossible to relink with them. Not impossible, but for now, Shelton had to report to the theater headquarters in order to be properly processed. Being dropped off out of a deuce and a half, Shelton made his way to the Headquarters and Service office, located within base a few miles south of London.
He turned his papers in to a staff aide. Some Corporal deemed too feeble for the front, as most of the clerks were. Shelton was asked to wait while his papers were reviewed. He took a seat at some benches lined up against a wall opposite of the counter. Taking out a small pocketbook from his inner breast coat of his Class A's, he began to read.
(Leaving this open if anyone wishes to contribute. If in a few days no one has I'll wrap it up).