Like many here, my father served in WWII. He was there June 7, driving an LCP as they hit the beaches and he was gravely injured – caring shrapnel and a metal plate in his head until his death in 1995. He fought in both the Pacific and European theaters of operation yet he rarely talked of war. I knew little of his accomplishments until I came home on leave in 1971 after being wounded. Dad and I went for a long motorcycle ride and when we stopped for a break, he asked me how I was doing and as we began to talk he opened up and told me of the horrors of his war and about the invasion that became known as “D-Day”. The details were still crystal clear in his mind and he recalled events as if they had just happened – some things we just don’t forget. I gained a new respect for my father that day.

When dad died in 1995, I found a flag in his Navy footlocker that we have since found out was on the LCP he was on that was hit. Dad was more dead than alive, but he saved the flag from his boat. My mom is very sentimental and still has the flag among her possessions, but we will someday place this treasure in a museum in his honor.

May we never forget the sacrifices of our fathers that assured us freedoms and liberty.

Blessings to those of my father’s generation who may read this and please know you have my utmost respect and admiration.

Regards All,
Glenn