Here's the thing, I miss my Dad today. He was a world war 2 vet, a decorated officer, and present and just about every major battle from being one of the first to land at Normandy on Omaha Beach to the the Battle of the Bulge. Dad loved to tell war stories and I loved to listen. When I was about fifteen or so I discovered a drawer full of pictures, little tiny B&W pictures of my father's tour of duty. He had taken a little Brownie camera with him and documented pretty much everything from boot training to the liberation of Belgium. I put the pictures in an albumn for him and gave it to him as a Father's Day gift. I have the albumn now and treasure it. A few years ago I had the pleasure of editing a book of poetry for a local author. She was writing poems about her experiences during WWII as a child in Belgium. She told about the Nazi's coming at night and taking their blankets and how her father, a doctor, was forced to treat the ailing and injured German soldiers.She told how she hid in dark basements and of air raids and bombs bursting. I told her that my Dad was one of the soldiers who helped free Belgium from the Nazis. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, "He was my liberator." And he probably was. I'm proud of my Dad and all the soldiers then and now. Thank you!