05/25/2026
𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐚𝐲 — 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐦
On this Memorial Day, I want to honor my father, 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐞, and all the men and women — fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers — who, through courage, sacrifice, and suffering, helped create the world we have inherited. A world that we now have the responsibility to care for, protect, and pass on.
My father was born in France in 1924. He became an orphan at a young age, and only a few years later the Second World War began — a war that, after the First World War, should never have been allowed to happen again.
At only 14 years old, he began working as a seaman. By 17, he was serving on the French merchant vessel 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐢, which was torpedoed and sunk on 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟑, 𝟏𝟗𝟒𝟏.
Later, under German occupation, he was ordered to work for 𝐎𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐭 on the Atlantic Wall from December 1942 to March 1943. Because he was an able seaman, he was then forced toward Germany, with Hamburg as the destination, and later sent to forced labor near Stettin, Poland.
When he refused to work, he was imprisoned for 15 days. He was later transferred to a concentration camp near Stettin, where he remained for about six months.
As he told me, he was on what he called the “lucky” side of the camp. The “not so lucky,” in his words, were the Jews and the Russian prisoners.
“𝐀𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐝,” he said.
Those words have stayed with me.
They remind me of the cruelty that human beings can inflict on one another — the imprisonment, the torture, the humiliation, and the suffering. And not only what the N***s did to those they chose to persecute and destroy, but also what they did to their own people, to Germany itself, and to an entire generation.
For what? Power? Hatred? Delusion? The belief that one person, one group, or one ideology had the right to decide the value of another human life?
Because the Germans needed sailors for merchant vessels, he was eventually given a choice:
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 — 𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬.
At only 19 years old, he saw the ship as a chance, perhaps one day, to escape.
He was assigned to the German vessel 𝐒𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐝, bound for 𝐆ä𝐯𝐥𝐞, 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐧. When the ship arrived around October 1–2, 1943, it anchored outside the harbor. During the night, my father saw his chance. He jumped into the water, swam ashore, and hid in the harbor area until daylight. He then found a police station and asked for protection.
From there, he was transported to Stockholm, where the Red Cross had a support system for escaped prisoners, sailors, and Allied pilots who had managed to land in Sweden after missions over Germany. On 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏, 𝟏𝟗𝟒𝟑, he was also able to enlist with the 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
In April 1944, he was transferred with other Frenchmen in similar circumstances to Scotland, in preparation for the invasion of Normandy. But during medical examination, he was diagnosed with tuberculosis and severe pulmonary disease, most likely caused by imprisonment, camp conditions, and forced labor.
Instead of going to Normandy, he ended up in a sanatorium in Beaconsfield, England, under the French naval forces — barely alive.
The rest of his story was not without hardship. But it was filled with perseverance, dignity, and an extraordinary will to live.
He returned to Sweden in 1949 and built a future.
A family, A life. A long and respected career as a restaurateur.
He became a great father, grandfather, husband, and a man who believed deeply that:
“𝐈𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 — 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧.”
My father was almost 93 years old when he left us, nine years ago, on 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟓, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟕.
But today is not only about him.
Today is about all those who had the courage to stand up against those who tried to take freedom away from others. Those who fought against selfishness, greed, hatred, and twisted ideas of superiority.
Those who refused to accept that any leader, government, movement, or ideology had the right to decide that other people — because of their origin, faith, beliefs, or the color of their skin — were wrong, unwanted, or needed to be eliminated.
My father, and so many others like him, saw and felt the horror of this.They saw what the N***s, and a delusional leader, did to Germany, to Europe, and ultimately to the whole world. They saw how other fascist leaders followed — Mussolini, Franco, Horthy, Antonescu, and others — not necessarily because they liked him, but because of their own obsession with power, control, and wealth.
𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬. 𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.
The world is a big place, and if we have any chance of giving our children, and their children, a planet of peace, freedom, and dignity, we must learn from history.
We must remember the people who stood up.
We must honor those who suffered.
And we must never forget what happens when hatred is allowed to grow, when truth is replaced by propaganda, and when some people decide they are worth more than others.
So today I remember my father, 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐞. And I honor all those — known and unknown — who believed in fighting for what is right.
For freedom.
For equality.
For humanity.
For all of us
