My maternal grandfather, my Paw-Paw, stormed the beach that day. The only thing that he would ever say about it is that he would never understand why he lived through it when so many of his buddies didn’t. He’s been gone 33 years now.
My uncle Frank was 18 years old he flew in with 82nd Airborne in those wooden gliders. A lot were shot and killed before they hit the ground. They landed a couple of miles from the target. Uncle Frank was 16 when he joined, lying about his age. After the war he wanted to stay in and make it a career but the Army tried to kick him out for “mental problems”. He spent many months in a hospital in Germany recovering and was finally allowed to stay in the Army. He retired in 1964, having served in WW2, Korea and Vietnam. He then went to work at Ft. Belvoir with the Civil Engineers and ended up retiring from the Civil Service. He never spoke of his time in the military. I was a pall-bearer at his funeral and my 1st cousin, his daughter, told me the hell he went through in the military, fighting for his country, then fighting for the job he loved. He would go AWOL from the Army hospital and MPs would come to get him. He would end up being the hell out of a couple of them before they dragged him back. I never met a finer man. RIP Uncle Frank and all the other men who saved Western Civilization. These were men with brass balls and their sacrifices will never be forgotten.