Ted, paralleling your experience at your dad's funeral, after dad died one of the men under him told me an account between him and my dad during the war.
Dad was a 21 year-old 1st Lt. leading an infantry heavy weapons platoon (81mm mortars and machine guns) post D-Day in the push through France into German territory. He never spoke much about the war. After attending mom's brother's (KIA/MIA) unit reunion in our hometown, he asked me to locate his runners which were enlisted men who would relay messages when radio or wire communications broke down. He was able to speak with one, Pete, before he died. After he died, I spoke with Pete. Petes last memory of dad was when Pete was hit by shrapnel from an 88 mm shell. The German 88 mm made a lot of Christians out of GIs. Being supersonic, there was usually little or no warning of incoming. His platoon was engaged between the Germans and the main line of US forces. He said dad scooped him up and ran like a deer towards the rear where medics carried him in a jeep to the safety, the whole time Germans taking pot shots at them. That was the last time Pete saw dad and didnt speak with him until I located him about 17 years ago. The day after Pete was wounded, dad was wounded for the second time and spent 16 months in hospitals in England and the US recovering from a severe leg wound which gave him a noticeable limp for the rest of his life. It ended his football days; he had been a scholarship starting end for Clemson and left school for the war after his sophomore year. He completed his education after the war, returning to Clemson for a degree in architecture. I was born his last year at Clemson, the first of my parents ten children. Gil
