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My Dad is eighty-nine and one of a dwindling group who served in WW2. Reading accounts of what his generation went through helps me understand his early life.
Lest we forget.
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My Dad fought on Guam, the Philippines, and Korea. The stories he's told me are truly insane. They make the most over-the-top movie scripts utterly pale in comparison. The breadth of the experiences are astounding. Dozens and dozens of stories!! Each story could make a riveting movie.
One tiny example;
Back ground: He's a country boy who's mother died when he was 15. Lived in Glenwood, WA. His dad went off to work in the Portland ship yards. He sent $15 a month home to my dad who carried on in school living by himself. He made money delivering papers, raising rabbits, and pheasants. He hunted for a lot of his food.
While fighting in Korea, out in the field, they would be provided with a hot meal at lunch only. At that point everyone had to have foxholes for safety. They would leave their foxholes and saunter over to the mess line collect their vittles and stand around jawing and eating. He explained that the Chinese would often wait until lunch time to execute mortar barrages. Dad would wait in his foxhole until everyone else had been served. Then he would bolt for the mess line, tearing through as fast as functionally possible. Then at a dead run he'd return to his foxhole before eating any of it. Sure enough one day he heard the first round come in just as he was reaching his foxhole on return from the mess line. He dove head first into his hole. Just as he hit the bottom a boot with a foot in it landed in the hole with him...
Ultimately, he was one of only two people in his company to survive the conflict. He attributes it to always being wary.