[jacquej]

My uncle, my mom’s baby brother, was 17 years old.

He was the second wave to hit the beach on that first day. After surviving, one of his jobs was to guard the bodies of the dead, so their belongings would not be stolen.

He committed suicide in his mid thirties, leaving behind his young wife and two small children. He never recovered from the horrors of that day.

[Fiji Hill]

Old Glory no longer flies over Suribachi. Since 1968, the Meatball has flown over the island.

[stevem]

My uncle, my mom’s baby brother, was 17 years old...He was the second wave to hit the beach on that first day. After surviving, one of his jobs was to guard the bodies of the dead, so their belongings would not be stolen.

I've often been terrified that I would not have had the sand needed to do what these guys did and keep moving forward straight into the fire of hell. Those of us who were never "there" probably can't fathom in our worst nightmare what hell really looks like.

Your uncle paid the ultimate price because he did what he had to do at the time in his life when he was really needed. That sentiment is for every man or woman who faces his or her crucible and keeps forging ahead when that crucible becomes his or her destination.