It’s not quite a thank you, but you might find this story interesting nonetheless.
I’ve posted this before. And it’s not something I copied from the internet. I was in the room.
Back when I was in my 20s I worked security for a major university. One of the campus cops - I’ll call him Bill - was older than most of us. He was also fat and slow.
Bill didn’t look anything like those slick cops you see on TV. Some of the younger campus cops made fun of him. Bill never said anything back. He just took it.
Well, one day Bill brought a briefcase to roll call. He didn’t say a word. He just opened up his briefcase in front of us. In that briefcase were citations and rows of medals. Bill was an Army Ranger who landed on D-Day.
Nobody made fun of Bill after that.
Chet - a friend of mine. He put together a book of his experience in the European Theatre of Operations, as a spotter for artillery. There is a famous picture of General Patton taking a leak, while on a bridge. Chet was in the house in the distance, top floor looking to the far, more distant trees . . . for German artillery.
Chet was a mathematical genius. And he had some kind of unique quality of eyesight, such that, he could spot artillery shells in flight and immediately calculate their likely point of origin. He had a jeep, a driver, and a radio (attached to the jeep), and he roamed around, wherever needed, locating German artillery.
His book was fantastic. His medals, too. His trunk that returned to the USA, loaded with souveniers.
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Ray - another friend of mine. Ray was a B-24 bombardier, and navigator, and he was badly wounded during a mission over Europe. He recovered in a hospital in England. After recovery, he was assigned to a special ground team, among a number of teams, looking for German missile manufacturing equipment, and looking for German scientists.
In all that running around on the ground, his team did find things.
Ray also put together a book of his experience. Like Chet, several photos.
Chet gave me a copy of his book. Ray, one day, when I was visiting his home, had me sit down and read his book. All of that, amazing adventures.
Both men had wonderful sense of humor.
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That reminds me of Herb. He was a teenager when “drafted” into the German Army / SS, just in time to spend a few months southwest of the German border with Denmark.
Herb was captured by British troops, spent time in a prison camp, and then was discovered by an American machine/tools company owner who was looking for skilled machinists - something Herb had been doing as a teen, before being “drafted.”
I met Herb in New York State, decades ago. He worked with a friend of mine, George (who, was a USAAF tech, who repaired and serviced P-38s and P-47s at an airstrip near Utah Beach, June 1944).
They both were “drafted” by the American machine/tools boss, and they were both incredibly excellent, talented machinists.
One day, I was visiting their facility, when I got side-tracked, interested in something that Herb was working on - developing a thing, based on a blueprint.
Herb cast some aluminum, and he machined some balsa wood, in order to make a physical prototype of a thing that a local company’s R&D guys had in mind.
Herb took a break and told me about: a) some of his wartime experience, and b) some troubles with his son (along the lines of “Why can’t they be like we were, perfect in every way!”).
Herb was hilarious. German accent, but otherwise soundling like any American dad grumbling about “the kid.”
Herb and George. I was fortunate to know them.
The thing that Herb was working on: The first CD case. It was made of aluminum and balsa wood, as a prototype to show around the office at ____.
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There were many more friends of all ranks and all branches. Bless them, and please God, forgive them.