Two Months for a Friend

My father's army stories always included a man named George Wolfcott, who I met as a child when he and his family came by for a visit every summer. My parents always described George as my dad's best friend, but that made me wonder why, because they hardly saw each other.

The story my dad told me was that they were in the same army unit and you can get pretty close with someone, especially if you're kind of simpatico with each other. That's how it was for my father and George.

The other funny thing about my dad was that some of his work-related friends called him George. In fact they all called each other George as a joke, so I sometimes called my dad George too.

The real part of the story I want to share isn't so much that they were close; it's what they did about it. My father was due to be discharged and his friend George still had two months to go. My dad asked his lieutenant if he could stay two more months until his buddy George Wolfcott was discharged.

My dad's wish was granted and they both left the army at the same time. Two months later.
I think about this when measuring the friendships I have. Would any of my friends do the same? I like to think they would - and I believe there are some that would. 

We tend to hear and see a lot of movies and stories about being in the military that say it becomes about saving or helping the guy next to you. I believe this was my father's intent and the feeling that created stayed with him and his friend George for their entire lives, no matter how much or little they saw each other.

I can tell you that when they got together, they talked for hours and the rest of us pretty much had to fend for themselves. I wish they lived closer to each other so they could have seen each other more (though I admit I felt left out when they would go off together sometimes).

What did my mom think of all this? Usually she wanted a lot of sociability when we had visitors or visited someone. She seemed to like George's wife Shirley and of course everyone had meals together and talked.

I think ultimately my mother respected what my father went through and how his friendship with George saved him, as a person, and saved his faith in humanity during a time when he and everyone else in his unit were dealing with war, death, and destruction.

I never got to thank George for being my dad's rock and George's kids never did, either. But what their friendship taught me is that two months can mean the world, and being willing to give up two months can be the measure of a man--and tell us everything we need to know about him--and his friendships.