Sonofafsh'
My time in the Army was almost surreal. Most of it was not much less than bizzare. My father was a combat medic with 3 btn., 6 Inf, and was ordered to escape at Cisterno. Till the day he died he never really forgave himself for leaving wounded. When I got in I tried in my way to sort of see what I could do. Essentialy I went to Benning for OCS and wound thrown out of the program with 3 stripes taken off my reporting rank. Post Sgt. Major gave me a job and when I got it done He took care of my disciplanary action and I got levied to Berlin. After looking at units there I bribed the assignment clerk and wound up in Co C, 3rd Btn., 6 Inf. When I got there I was Ranger qualified and as Mom would have been under a great deal of strain, I sort of forgot to ever mention it. I was home and married a little over 7 years when my wife asked Mom where I got the tattoo on my keister and what it meant.
My sister has had a case made out of hard maple to hold my fathers and my basic graduation phot, our decorations, and two coffin flags. My younger brother inherits if my sister passes. My brothers wife has a full length glass display case of her father's uniform, records and paperwork. This man was a godfather to me and at the end of the war was in a combat shock ward being treated by my father. My godfather was at his first posting, Ford Island, when WWII started. He ended the war as Gun Sgt. having spent some time as a 4th Marine Raider. The dress blues in that case are a blaze of glory.
I live in the middle of Az and you cannot go anywhere without seeing caps denoting military service. Even better there are more than a few door greeters, or seaters at restraunts without being thanked for serving.
To keep this on topic it was my midwest father who taught me, "cast your bread upon the water". Dad was not really religious but he had a deep belief in helping those around him, not because he had to, that was just dad.
Hodr
Sgt.
Ranger
Like my father before me
