I always loved sitting on my dad’s lap and hearing him tell me stories of his war days. He spent three years in the Pacific theater during WWII. He was a staff sargeant, and a radio man in the Army Air Corps (there was no Air Force yet). Dad’s best story was how he tried to get out of flying because he had motion sickness and was always barfing and having to carry sacks around with him. And also he hated parachuting and his superiors always had to push him out of the plane.
A gory story was in New Guinea. They were camped for a few days and were told not to mess around with any of the native girls. But of course men are men, and at least one couldn’t resist the temptation because Dad said one night they heard a horrific scream, and the next morning found the head of one of the soldiers in the middle of the camp.
My dad died December 22, 2014. He was 91. God Bless you Dad, I love you.