I just read a heartwarming and all-too-familiar story of a man whose father was in World War II. Even though "Hawk" hungered for reminiscences of his father's Pacific operations, his father never got comfortable enough to share his experiences before he died at the tender age of 49. My father-in-law was Master Sergeant of a Railway Battalion in Europe. He, too, has difficulty talking about the war. I fear it is because he saw too much atrocity. The frigid weather, the lack of proper food, clothing, and shelter, in addition to tasting the fear of death, must have been utterly overwhelming. Seeing his comrades die on and off the battlefield must have been excruciating as well as life-altering.
Morrie earned his Battle of the Bulge certificate, copies which we all display proudly on our walls. He has few remnants of the war and I sadly suspect most of the memories being replayed in his mind will be lost to history.
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