A Young Soldier, a Promise, and a Truckload of Coal
Dad served in the European theater in World War II.
For a time, he was stationed in the Black Forest in Germany.
One day, while off duty, he discovered a small china shop. Inside, an elderly proprietor made and sold delicate white dishes, complete with tea and coffee services. Dad admired them. More than that — he already knew exactly who they were for.
He asked what it would cost for two full sets. One for his mother. One for the woman he hoped to marry someday.
The old man shook his head sadly. He had no coal to fire his kiln. Wartime shortages made it impossible.
Dad asked a simple question.
“If I bring you the coal, will you make them?”
The old man agreed. A deal was struck.
Along with his other duties, Dad sometimes drove officers from place to place. That meant he had access to the motor pool. He put his plan into motion.
Later, with a grin, Dad told me he had “borrowed an Army truck and liberated a truckload of Army coal.”
Then he laughed — because he always did at that part.
Not long afterward, two beautiful sets of white china with silver trim were finished.
One went to his mother.
Two years later, when he married mine, he placed the second set in her hands.
Today, that china sits in my care.
A quiet reminder of love, war, and a young soldier who knew exactly what mattered.
Through My Eyes, Gently 