My dad is a pathetic commie pig union thug.
OTH, he was on an LSM, poised off the coast of Kyushu, and expecting to die in the first wave that he was going to do.
Leftist bung hole that he was, he cried and thanked God that Harry dropped those bombs.
Fast forward to 2005, shipboard reunion, Wright-Patterson AFB. I drove a car full of his shipmates to the museum. We checked in.
All those old codgers took off to the waayyy back of the hanger. I was at a loss. I had to run to catch up.
There, in the waayy back corner, was the BocksCar, in all its glory, complete, still ready to fly.
All those old farts were rubbing their hands on the belly of that airplane, crying their eyes out. Enola Gay DID NOT end the war, BOCKSCAR did. You had to be there to understand.
“My dad is a pathetic commie pig union thug.”
Sorry to hear that.
On the other hand, some moments make up for an entire lifetime of nasty crap, and, personally, I’d give every guy who fought so that I wouldn’t be raised speaking Japanese (or German) a pass on pretty much everything else.