My favorite uncle- John Lenig- has passed on, but he'll live in my memory as my only relative to have gone ashore there that day. Omaha Beach, 1st Infantry Division, 4th wave. He survived it, as well as having survived beach landings in Algeria and Sicily before that, and two weeks as a POW after the debacle at the Kasserine Pass (quite a story there, best left for another time). Off the beach and into the bocage, and later through the Huertgen Forest, picking up three Purple Hearts and a Bronze Star along the way.
He didn't keep much in the way of souvenirs. The only piece of his kit that he retained (stole, I suppose), for some unknown reason, was the canteen and cover that he carried from day 1. The canteen is dented to hell, and there are blood stains on the cover that he admitted to my dad were his. I have it now and drink a toast of water to him out of it every year on this day. It is setting at home on the kitchen counter waiting for me as I speak. To say he was my personal hero is putting it mildly...
