My Dad’s Dad (from the Park) fought in the trenches in France in WWI; I was named for my Mother’s Brother who died on Omaha Beach on D-Day…he was the youngest of 12 farm kids and my mother’s closest friend; and my step Granddad survived the Bataan Death March and never quite came back…everyone called it “shell shocked” back then.
The rest of his life may not have turned out the way he would have planned, but at his funeral many years later a man and his wife, their 4 children, and their 11 grand children showed up from Tennessee. None of us had seen any of them before. They were there because my step Granddad had saved the man’s life on Bataan before he’d even met his wife there with him. They all cried.
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