Sad and sobering indeed.  Came into focus for me personally after my Dad passed a few years back.  He would never discuss his service except in the most general terms. 

When I was maybe 5, my great-uncle Joe was at our house for a family reunion. Somebody, probably either Mama Raptor or my grandmother, sat me down on his knee and told me that Uncle Joe had been in the Army. I asked if he'd been in any wars, and he told me that he'd fought in World War Two, and that he'd been shot in the leg at the Battle of the Bulge by a German while he was diving head-first into a foxhole. I remember him pointing to the places on his leg where the bullet had gone in and come out.

I was too young to truly understand what that meant, and he passed away a few years after that reunion, before I was old enough to understand.

Last year, we were down in Florida having lunch with his daughter - Mama Raptor's cousin - and she told us that that was the first and only time Uncle Joe had ever told anyone about his service. All anybody knew was that he'd been drafted, shipped off to England, had fought in France, and had been wounded in action.

Now, both Uncle Joe's daughter and her husband are fairly scattery, so I didn't get the whole story, but apparently the husband discovered several medals among Joe's effects while cleaning out his house after he passed, and they were able to obtain Joe's entire service record from the VA. I'm 99% certain that Uncle Joe earned at least one Bronze Star, and it's possible that he earned as many as four, but I don't know for sure. I've been trying to get ahold of a copy of Uncle Joe's service record so I can figure out the whole story, but so far no dice.

What their eyes have seen...

My grandfather passed away 3 years ago.   He was in the merchant marine,  so he was not officially recognized as a veteran until 1988.  I think he was somewhat of a pacifist so that might have been why he signed up for that instead of one of the other branches.   

The closest he got to actual combat was delivering ammunition and supplies in the South Pacific, and there were a couple of times when they were close enough to shore to see the fighting.  He told me about one time where one of his shipmates took a few pot shots towards the Japanese with a Springfield rifle he had acquired from the few Navy personnel that were stationed on the ship to man the AA gun.  There were also a few runs through dangerous sub infested waters in the North Atlantic, and overall the merchant marine had the second highest casualty rate after the Marine Corps.  Mostly due to German U-boats.   

This is why it is called the greatest generation.  The whole nation, not just men of fighting age, went to war.   They pulled themselves together: blacks, whites, men, women, the elderly and even the pacifists.  They did their duty.

The tip of the spear and the spearhead give the spear its killing power, but the shaft of the spear - those standing behind the soldiers - gives the reach.  It lets the weapon be used to its full potential.



Kaso

My grandfather passed this last year. He served in the Pacific theater with the 158th RCT or 'Bushmasters' as they were called at the time. His group was one of the few groups to fight all the way from Australia to Japan. His group went to Panama to train in jungle warfare and to defend the canal. They got the nickname Bushmasters from a local snake in Panama.

He never talked much about the war at all. He would only say he liked Krueger, and very much disliked MacArthur. If you asked about the war he would gladly get some of his pictures of topless young native women, and tell how they just ran around topless all the time. Grandmother was never too keen on this discussion.

If you asked about guns or weapons he would talk much more. He said the 'newfangled' automatic pistol was not as accurate as a good revolver and would not work if you shoved it into someone. So a revolver was a much better handgun in his opinion. He loved the Garand, Thompson and BAR. The entrenching tool was a much better close quarters combat weapon than a bayonet in his opinion. He said the carbine was an okay weapon, but that it was a bit flimsy compared to a Garand. He loved the Garand, and would always say it was a great infantry rifle.     

My Grandfather Hill is buried in the veterans cemetery right by Camp Williams. 
He died of cancer, but did so with dignity and surrounded by family.  He was buried with military honors.

I do miss him.