My earliest memories are on a hill overlooking Bolling AFB ~ the planes were coming in there 24/7, being checked out by First Squad, Second Squad, and others ~ and then ferried to New Foundland, to Greenland, to Iceland to England where they would be ready for D-Day.
Bolling was the D-mark for the war in Europe.
I recall sort of missing the roar later on, but at night my mother would take me outside to watch for a certain plane ~ she'd say "There's your daddy's plane and he'll be home soon" ~ and there'd be a signature waggle.
More recently I discovered that I'm living at the end of a WWII temporary runway out in Fairfax county where planes were lashed together for those flights, and yet others checked them out before the trip to Europe.
Born on a battlefield ~ next to Freeman Field in Southern Indiana, brought up under the roar of the D-Day aerial armada, and in the end i"m still living on sacred ground.
My father was a little too old to sign up for WW2. He was a welder so he went to Panama and built ships for the government, why Panama I never asked. Mom and I lived with my aunt and uncle while he was gone. It was after his return and the war ending that I heard about the Jews being starved and killed. I am sure I wasn’t supposed to see the pictures but I peeked. Sad memories for me.