American World War II veterans tell the greatest stories. Some release their memories hesitantly, with obvious pain and sometimes anger, but always with respect for their fallen comrades. Some spill forth in cinematic detail, recalling such minute details as an insignificant wooded lane in the heart of a foreign land or the scent of a bar of soap. It is this type of captivating clarity that Bert Jenkins shared with me recently. Eighty-years-old, he survived the infamous Battle of the Bulge, but one of his legs did not. His handicap appears to have been anything but a disability. He has been, and remains, most able.

            Drafted at nineteen while a student at Mississippi State University, Jenkins trained in England and then found himself on Utah Beach of Normandy, just six days after “D Day.” His outfit, the 313^th infantry regiment of the 79^th division, moved inland about a half a mile and dug their foxholes. Their first night onshore, the Germans barraged them with an air attack. Jenkins learned the true meaning of courage and the value of a deep foxhole as bombs exploded and shrapnel rained down from the sky.

            He recalls the valor of men and the oddities of war. Wearing the same clothes for a month or more at a time, the stench proved little of an issue. “We all smelled the same. Very bad,” laughed Jenkins. They ate one of two meals, a K-ration or a C-ration. “A C-ration was either stew or hash and could be heated in the can. A K-ration was a can of potted mean, a small chocolate bar and a pack of four cigarettes.” Jenkins always tossed his smokes to someone else.

            His regiment fought for 136 consecutive days without rest, an accomplishment that earned them all promotions. “I went from buck private to private first class,” recalled Jenkins. “I wasn’t exactly what you would call a gung-ho soldier. I followed orders, but I was never one to volunteer to take out a nest of German machine guns. I was more of a survivor than a hero.”

            There are so many questions I want to ask. While World War II is well documented and the stories of veterans deeply chronicled, each person’s story bears the weight of sacrifice and the burden of what might have been. There are the scars, physical and emotional, that follow the wounds of war that define a veteran forever. They can be ugly, made even more so by regret and a broken spirit. Somehow, men like Bert Jenkins never let the scars get the best of them. They not only lived to tell their tale, but lead exceptional lives.

            Some people know him as “the all-time winningest high school basketball coach in the state of Mississippi.” After all, he coached his Gulfport High School teams to an amazing 866 victories and only 180 losses over a thirty-year career, including seven state titles and 13 Big Eight Championships. The NCAA named him the National High School Coach of the Year in 1989. Ten years later, Mississippi inducted him into the Mississippi Sports Hall of Fame. He did all this while teaching English and Physical Education and raising a family. He did all of this on one leg.

            He admits it was a fear of losing more than a love of winning that drove him to excel in coaching. What makes me want to know more about his story is the fact that he never allowed a foothold for self-pity or weakness.  I know Mr. Jenkins to be a great measure of a man. His is a story that should enable us all.