A friend, from my African days, shared this next door...If you have 52 minutes to watch it is an amazing story.

 

 katzendogs wrote: 
my dad was artillery, too.  42nd infantry, rainbow division, european theater, signed up again after he got out the first time. the only story i know for sure, other than his unit was the first inside of dachau, is that he took out 14 germans with one mortar shot at a half track.  saved his entire unit.

the war followed him for the rest of his life, and he died from bone cancer....eating him from the inside out.

dad's brother, uncle neil, was taken as a prisoner and spent time in a german pow camp. he made it out, came home, married, had a kid, but never got over it. drank himself to death in 1964.


these are the reasons why i pray for the haunted ones.

 katzendogs wrote: 
He may not have been sarcastic at all. It happens.

My dad was in artillery. I asked him once if he ever killed anyone. He gave me a snicker and said  " he probably killed some of our own". I'm sure he was being sarcastic. But, he was in WW2 and Korea. 

Daddy couldn't go overseas in WWII because of his bad eyesight, but in the Navy he was stationed in Philadelphia and worked on a portion of The Bomb. Years later when he was diagnosed with his muscle degenerative disease he concluded that in some way the work he did during the war contributed to the development of that disease.

My dad served in WWII in the OSS behind German lines in France training the underground well before D-Day. Told me some of the stories when I was a kid and I thought it was cool.

My mom's brother, Uncle John, was a squadron leader, lead bombardier who flew 56 mission in Europe on B-24's. Mom said he was shell shocked after the war for many years, and especially when he heard a plane fly over.

My mom's other brother, Uncle Charlie, was a widower with 3 daughters and they took him in the Pacific campaign. He was on a The Repair ship Delta and saw a lot of action and caught shrapnel, but never got a Purple Heart. His ship pulled into Nagasaki Harbor right after the dropped the bomb.

The only one left today is my mom's, sisters husband, another Uncle John, who was also in the Pacific on a tin can and was at Iowa Jima firing support and also saw them raise the flag.

Most of the men who served in WWII never really wanted to talk about their service. They kept it inside them, but would only talk to another veteran about what they saw.

The one thing I wish I had done was to tape or record their stories. All I have is whats engraved in my mind and that's not a good thing.

So for all that have served since and now...   

 bokey wrote: 
My dad rarely talked about it either—just bits and pieces over the years

 2cats wrote: 
 My Uncle got shot up pretty bad during Normandy and spent time in a German POW camp with no meds at all. My Mom and the family didn't know if he was alive or dead for months.

He never talked to me about it and I never asked, but when I'd spend the summers with him and my Aunt in the mountains, he'd take off his shirt when working outside. The scars were just horrifying(well actually as a kid I thought they were kind of cool), but like I said, we never talked about it. It left quite an impression though.
     I sure wish life was perfect.

"And I'm saying that men can live together without butchering one another. "- Clint Eastwood(as Josey Wales)

 If only it were so.
 God Bless You Uncle Dayton, and thanks for not telling me the stories when I was just a kid.

 hippiechick wrote: 



I've been seeing a lot of people at the trade show today wearing felt poppy pins and had no idea why.

My dad was a WWII vet but I don't know anything about his time in the military. I do know that afterward, he worked for TVA went to UT full-time at night on the GI Bill and got a degree in physics. He never talked about his military service and I guess as a kid I wasn't interested enough to ask. :(

My father spent all of WWII in an army kitchen in Germany, peeling potatoes and messing with German girls.

My Dad was a radioman on a bomber over Germany in WWII when he was shot down and became a POW.  His parents didn't know his whereabouts for 6 months.  I can't imagine.  He had nightmares up until his death in 1998.

 Isabeau wrote: 
For your dad.  

I got my flags hung outside with pride.

 Isabeau wrote: 
Big props to your Dad.

My father is a Viet Nam Vet who lost his left eye, ear and arm to a bouncing betty mine in 1967. He has lived all these years with those wounds. A tough old Marine who I butted heads with in younger days. Now, at 76, his body's resources are wearing thin and we don't know how much he'll be with us, but he lived longer with his wounds than he did without them. I can't help but think about the thousands of vets wounded even far worse than his returning from two wars, facing a life just like my Dad. I told my Mom yesterday that I doubted many of these will find a partner as loving, patient and enduring as she and wondered what kind of life is ahead of these vets who sacrificed so much for a lifetime.
Obama, as President, has had to be in touch with the flesh and blood that makes up our Military, comfort families and address troops. I must admit that Mitt Romney's lack of even a photo op with either troops or wounded vets was disturbing to me.

 hippiechick wrote: 
Interesting story. I love Poppies, they are very beautiful.

Why Do We Wear Poppies To Honor Our Veterans?

Remember those that gave all and thank a veteran.







And if you feel the need to make a disparaging remark remember it is thru their sacrifices that allows you to do that and just let it go for one day.