In honor of Memorial Day.
My Dad is my hero. I know I'm a little late in posting today but better late then never.
My dad served in World War II. He was a private in that horrific war. I wish I would have asked him more questions when he was around . He is no longer with us. He left us in 1997. He would be 89 if he were still alive. He was a small town farmboy with a wife and a baby when he got the letter. I think he was about 23 or 24 years old when he was drafted. He was a soldier in the army and rode on a tank. He slept in fox holes. He was a sharpshooter. He was under Patton and fought in the Battle of the Bulge. He marched into Paris when it was liberated like they show in all the movies. He said a woman ran up to him and wrapped her scarf around his neck. He was never hurt other than he was picked up for battle fatigue.
The war affected him greatly, but he never complained. Since he never wanted to talk about it we never knew how much it bothered him. It was not until a few months before he passed away that he broke down and cried about it.
This is all I know about his war career. We will never know what he had to go through. I can only imagine.
Thanks Lulu for giving me the inspiration to write this post.