songbird's crazy world

Lately I have been hearing, quite literally, my father's "war stories". My father turned 18 in February 1945, and was drafted into the army shortly thereafter. He was discharged on Friday December 13, 1946, and always considered Friday the 13th to be a lucky day. While he's technically a WWII vet, he served mostly in post-war Europe. My father's family never expected that he would be drafted. He'd been ill as a child and had a heart murmur, which kept him out of gym class all through school. In theory he was drafted for "limited duty", but when he arrived at basic training in Georgia he was expected to do the same activities as every other new recruit. Georgia, where they heard his Brooklyn accent and his very Jewish surname, and they wanted to see if he had horns on his head.  ah, the "good old days." Georgia, where he met Manny from the Bronx, who coincidentally had the same surname. They would become friends....and after the war ...

On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month 1918  World War I came to an end -- and since that day we have honored our veterans every November 11. My father is a member of the Greatest Generation, a veteran of World War II.  He served in the Army (which surprised my grandparents, because they thought he couldn't be drafted because of a heart murmer he'd had as a child), he did his basic training in Georgia and served in Italy.  Came home and was given many opportunies through the GI bill, including the cahance to go to college and the opportunity to buy a home. In honor of my father's service, here are a few photos of the WW II Memorial in Washington, DC: