Today is hittin’ me more like Fathers’ Day than Memorial Day. It’s been 3 (or 4?) years since he left. Marine. Left his three sons the pick of their choosing among the gun collection, balance sold for Mom.
Think I’m gonna drive down there today before work. He never saw action, was seventeen when he had his Mom sign her permission for him to enlist in August of ’45. No ‘hero’ in the classic sense, but the Spirit was there. I never doubted until I was old enough to do the math that he must have been a hero. Never talked to him about any feelings of guilt (or relief) he may have experienced in not seeing action.
He was an expert in the Browning Automatic Rifle (B.A.R.) and an MP. He was all of 5’6″ and 145 pounds when he enlisted. He worked 42 years of swing-shifts at the steel mill. He loved dogs and they loved him. He was my Dad.
My dad never saw action, but I am one of a select group who can state with complete veracity that their father is buried next to a guy named “Patton“.
Just that deserves a visit today.