Tomorrow, November 3rd, will be two years since my father lost his battle with cancer.
He served as a medic and litter-bearer in Europe during WWII and certainly experienced more in that short time than I ever have or ever will.
Landing on D-Day +4, his medical battalion was attached to several divisions before he was transferred to the 70th Inf. Div. shortly after the Battle of the Bulge, he said Saarbrucken was the worst he experienced. That was all he said and I never asked. This describes the drive into the Saar river valley
He was more than a soldier, but I understand that during that one time in his life, chance dictated whether he lived or died. Without his surviving that war, I and my siblings would never exist. I would like to think that with his efforts, other men survived as well. Who knows the number of lives he affected during his service and the generations after.
In his mind, he did his duty and came home.
Two years ago, he completed his earthly duties and went home.