My grandfather was a firefighter on a carrier in the Pacific. He told me stories that still haunt me. I won't go into detail, but let's just say that a shot up plane in flames was not allowed to stay on deck, pilot or no pilot. Different breed of men from a different environment. I couldn't shine his shoes.
My grandfather was a firefighter on a carrier in the Pacific. He told me stories that still haunt me.
We all should be proud of our fathers, uncles and the sons and brothers that served during WWII. My father was an infantryman in New Guinea and Phillipine campaigns, where he was wounded and evacuated. Until just before he died, he never spoke a single word of any combat experienced.
I guess that when he knew his time was running short he unloaded on my brother and me some of the most unnerving and harrowing stories that you never saw in any war movie until the beach scenes in "Saving Private Ryan".
A vivid narrative of desparate moments, the sound of a skull cracking from a swung rifle, the panic of being unable to extract his bayonetted rifle from the last victim to meet the next from an unending banzai charge in the night.
Brave men all, the world is a better place because of their courage under fire and the weights they had to heft during, and after, their travails.