I told a retired Drill Instructor that “my Daddy taught me how to fight with a knife.” Dad was a corporal in the III Amphibious Corps Signal Battalion, and landed on Okinawa. I gave some detail of what I had learned.
The DI laughed and said, “Your Dad did NOT teach you how to fight with a knife. He taught you how to kill a man with a knife!
So true...
“...The DI laughed and said, “Your Dad did NOT teach you how to fight with a knife. He taught you how to kill a man with a knife! So true...”
Yep....they were some real bad asses back then. Tough as nails and outright mean as a rattlesnake. They didn’t call em “Devil Dogs” for nothing. Mine was a PFC, BAR rifleman, 1st Marine Division, G2C. He suffered for years after the war with PTSD but no one knew what it was back then...they just thought he was half crazy. I do know this: you didn’t want to piss him off...don’t ask me how I know, LOL. He has passed now, and I miss him dearly. He never talked too much about the war, but about a year before he passed, the Marine Corps sent a couple of stenographer types to interview him for a couple of days regarding his experiences. He fully opened up about it probably for the first time in his life. Some of the stuff he was describing made them just stop and question the validity of it, some of it made grown men just about cry...it was pretty bad.
But besides all that, he taught me a lot: how to fight/defend myself, how to shoot, hunt, fish, how to live off the land, how to tie rope, respect for our flag & country, respect for others, especially elders and the list goes on. Looking back now, I could never thank him enough for it. Even with all his faults, I couldn’t have asked for a better father.