I ran a food closet at our church; an old vet, Roger, came up from the VFW hall to help. Roger was a hoot - a real diamond in the rough. Stalwart and responsible, he was a real help. But if people, many of them from other countries, could not understand his English, he would just speak louder and louder. So funny.
One day I asked him about the War. He told me he had driven ambulances on the D-Day beaches; ‘I was one of the older ones. I was 24.’
Remembering Roger today and my father-in-law.
I made the point of noting the year of birth on the crosses and the American cemetery in Normandy, and realizing that many weren’t much older than my kids when they fell really brought it all home.
God Bless our Troops, past and present.