I was at the doctor's office waiting for treatment for a raging sinus infection and bronchitis when I was sitting next to an old gentleman in the waiting room. We talked about current events, and the topic of military service came up. I mentioned my dad on Iwo Jima, and my Gyrene Uncles in the pacific. He mentioned that he landed at Omaha Beach on 6 June, 1944. He told me the unit, but I can't recall it. He was an ordnance man with an engineer company. He carried a carbine. He did not say what wave he landed in, but that it was the worst hell on earth. His lasting memory of the beach was his last, as he left the beach head, seeing dead from both sides stacked "like fence posts" alongside the exit road he took. When I was called into the doctor's office, I stood up, shook his hand, and thanked him for his service to us and his country. He replied in the manner of most of his generation, "WE were just doing our job." The emphasis on WE. I confess my eyes watered as I walked off. Some was for my departed dad and uncles, some for the others of their generation.Information
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