... too young to remember anything about The War to End All Wars, but I have been thinking about it all day. Due to it being June 6, which was the day of the humongous landing of allied troops on the northern coast of France. And, of course, of my dad. I have been wondering where he was on that day when the troops were crawling through the sand and hundreds of dead infantrymen on the beaches of Omaha and Normandy. I think he was probably still in some facet of training prior to being shipped to Europe, via England.
But I have spent the day thinking of him, and my friend/pen pal, Homer. As young men of the age to think they were bulletproof and impervious, they probably spent their free time laughing, horse-playing, joking around, when not being terrified of the idea of artillery and bullets, mortal injury and death. I have spent today: wondering where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news reports of the massive undertaking that began to turn the tide of the fighting in France. I think he spent a couple of years in France and Austria before being shipped back to the states, where he was discharged at Ft. Bragg. NC.
After my dad came safely home from Europe, separated from active duty Army and settled back into small town life, he began working with his dad in family business. Then married and started a family, with me being born after a brother who is year and a half older than me. I noticed in recent years his discharge paperwork was finalized/dated after he got married, so I think he was likely in his Army uniform rather than a dress suit. I cannot say, as there seem to be no photos of that day, and no one survives to ask about memories of that time in June of 1946.
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