x chisels, 59 is too young to die. So sorry . This post has reminded me of lots of stuff when I was so so young. Having "lookouts or whatever you call them" in Iowa for German planes. We had charts to identify each type. My son, around 37 , still has a packet of those charts. Now, I can't even remember what we called the people who stood in towers, scanning the sky, and looking for enemy [sp?] planes. My family was mostly farmers-------mostly before mechanization and we picked corn with a team of horses. Others went in our places as we were more important at home, I guess. One did go. His name was Harlan and he was the idol of the family of seven children. He was a pilot and they never found him---------dead over France. Maybe his dog tag will show up as another did in these last few weeks. I was born in '42, so no real recollection of the sadness and the horror. Maybe like Bouvier, but my dad was at home--safe with rheumatic fevor that plagued him the rest of his life. He was Harlan's close friend and he told me about him and showed me pictures of how they took a trip in the "west" before the war. Those were high times before the bad ones. When I was young I remember the day all the veterans would gather together and honor the day. I think we had a parade in my small Iowa town. Then after the parade , the veterans, probably of multiple wars, got together in the cemetary. Old men, then, with buttons on their uniforms straining to hold them together. I was a child, but never had seen men, old men,cry. I saw it on those days when they looked at the flag being raised in the cemetary . As a child I thought it odd, and thought about how hot those uniforms must be . Now I think I understand that they were not uncomfortable in the heat. They were proud.

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