Sunday marks the 60th anniversary of the end of World War II in Europe, or VE Day. Just 11 months after the Normandy Invasion of June 6, 1944, Nazi Germany surrendered to the Allied forces.

Diane Covington of Nevada City grew up hearing her father's stories about his time in France during World War II.

In the following essay, she tells how one of his stories began a legacy which lives on after 60 years.

I grew up haunted by World War II and France. And by events that took place a world away from the Southern California of my childhood.

My father, a lieutenant in the Navy, spent four months on the Normandy coast during the war. Some of what he witnessed there was unspeakable. But his stories about his positive experiences in France became the very fabric of my childhood.

My favorite story was how dad took a 6-year-old French orphan, Gilbert Des Clos, under his wing. Dad thought Gilbert looked hungry, so he tried out his high school French to invite the boy to eat with him in the officer's mess. Soon this became a daily occurrence, three meals a day. Then Gilbert began to tag along in the jeep, as dad supervised the unloading of the huge Navy ships on Omaha Beach.

Over the months, in the midst of the chaos and confusion of war, my dad and Gilbert shared something basic and good, the love between a father and a son.

When it was time to leave France, dad tried to adopt Gilbert and bring him to America. But he was unable to and dad and Gilbert had to say goodbye.

As a child, when I listened to this story, I wondered what had happened to Gilbert. Sometimes he felt like an invisible brother, hovering on the edge of my consciousness, slightly out of focus.

But his presence still affected me.

Even though Spanish was the practical language to study in Southern California, I learned French. I longed to go to France, like my dad had, to try out my high school French.

After I grew up, busy with my own life and family, I forgot about Gilbert for a while. But I still kept up my French.

Just before my father died in 1991, he spoke about Gilbert and the war. I could feel dad's regret that he had never been able to go back to find Gilbert again.

Ten years ago, I went to France in dad's honor to write about the 50th anniversary of the end of World War II.

I also wanted to try to find Gilbert. I thought it might take months, even years, if I ever found him at all.

But I placed an ad in the Normandy paper.

The next day, Gilbert Des Clos, reading his morning paper, wept when he saw my father's name. For 50 years, he had told his wife, his daughter and his grandsons about dad's love and kindness.

At our tearful reunion, I was able to tell him that dad had never forgotten him. I could tell that for Gilbert, that meant everything.

It's a good thing I kept up my French because Gilbert Des Clos did become my French brother. He came to California to meet the family here. And we have gone to France to visit him. I just wish dad could have shared in our reunions.

I wonder if my dad reached out to Gilbert because he sensed that children are the casualties of war who live the longest with the memories haunting them. That their lives have been literally blown apart by the conflicts raging around them. And that they have been robbed of the innocence of childhood by witnessing atrocities no child should ever see.

I don't know. It is too late to ask. I do know that my father would be stunned by how much his kindness mattered.

As we commemorate the 60th anniversary of the end of World War II in Europe, I will remember my father and what he taught me: that it is the kindness we show one another that stands out, in relief, against a life and especially against a war.

And Gilbert Des Clos and I, linked across the world by one man's love, will today and always, remember the father, who loved us both.

ooo

Diane Covington lives in Nevada City.