I would like to take a moment to remember all those who died and served in war for our country and the freedoms we enjoy. As I grow older I realize what a tremendous sacrifice they made. Many people died, and many were scarred for the rest of their lives — emotionally and physically.
My own grandfather’s story is considered a shameful story, but not unlike many others. He enlisted on a lark when he was at the pub one day with his friends. They joined an artillery unit. In Northern Italy somewhere they were in rank and file heading off on a dirt track when he stopped for a bit for something and switched places with his buddy, a husband and father of four, who lived down the street from him in his home town.
Not long after they were under attack and his buddy’s jeep was blown up, killing all the occupants. Grandpa was never the same after that. He lost it. He went AWOL in Northern Africa. They caught him and shipped him to a convalescent home of some sort in Britain. He stayed there awhile, until the news came that Grandma was dying of cancer…but they did not tell him that. They discharged him and sent him home to a dying wife and four children. Grandma died 6 months after he arrived home.
Grandpa was never the same after the war I am told. He sacrificed a lot so I could live in freedom, and for that I will be eternally grateful.