I dont suppose many of you 'Colonials' who are 'Weber Warriors', are old enough to remember TO-DAYS DATE!(Some of the 'Older Vets'may. To-Day I will fire a 21 round Salute from my 1942c.Lee Enfield.The same mod. Rifle my Late Father 'Lugged' through France, Holland,Belgium & Finally Germany. 63 Years ago, London, England was not quite the Tourist "MECCA" that it has become in 2007.To my Former Purdey Workmates,who survied Hitlers Wrath in London,(We were all'Snot-Nosed Kids'born in the 1930s)I'll be'On the Beach here in Cape Neddick, Maine, Looking to the East, towards "Utah,Omaha,Gold,Sword"...NOT.Mecca..Let the 'Toasting Begin'!Thank-You ALL. Trevallion. cc.

I was in the 2nd grade, at Budlong school, in Chicago, waiting for summer vacation. On this day in 1957, I was getting honorably discharged from the U. S. Army, in Ft. Smith, AR.
God bless them all!

Me?, I was patiently waiting till June 6th, 1948 to be born. Happy Birthday to me!...Geo

I was happily residing in my mother's womb. My father, Lt jg US Navy was aboard an LST at Omaha Beach and subsequently wounded that day. He never talked about his role in the War even when I gave him a hand held recorder and asked him to privately record his experiences.
My thoughts and prayers to those who did not survive this day in history and my thanks to all who participated. I was lucky as my Father and my Wife's Father, a B17 Pilot with 30+ Missions did survive to give us a wonderful future.-Dick

Rrev. ---- thanks for remembering (not just specific dates) all the young men and women who because of their actions will never age beyond their young years. May God bless them all for their sacrifices to preserve our freedoms. I well remember the trains near my home in Norfolk carrying cannon and tanks to be loaded onto ships bound for England. I also remember Walter Winchels broadcast from rooftops in London during air raids . This brings back a flood of memories like gas/meat/sugar rationing, back/sideyards victory gardens and me and my uncle hunting rabbits, squirells and quail or ducks for extra meat. Aaahh the memories ------- Ken

I might have been lugging a tied bundle of newspapers to a school for a last paper drive before summer vacation, or pulling weeds in our family's 'victory garden' plot, or just looking at Axis aircraft silhouettes printed on the back of my cereal box. Or reading a letter from my big brother, who was serving in the navy at Dutch Harbor in the Aleutians. In those days, butter was given up for guns, and war touched the lives of everyone.

I was but a wee lad of four years, but, ya' know, I vividly remember the ending of the war in Europe the following year. I had relatives in the war, and my mother kept the radio on the kitchen window sill on all the time, tuned to the news broadcasts of the day. I clearly remember the announcement that the war had ended, and her shouting that her brothers would be coming back alive!! Quite a memory for a five year old!!

I love the idea of the 21 gun salute from a vintage WWII gun. I think I'll head up to my youngest son's farm this afternoon and touch off my M1 Garand in a similar honor. A bit less than three clips. That should heat up the barrel more than it's been for some time.

DT, thank you for the wonderful sentiments.

I was born just after the war but heard LOTS from my, and my friends' parents.

Also, we happened to be in France in June, 1986, and in Normandy on the 6th. We had no idea it would be any more than coincidental.

It sure was. There were allied flags hanging from many buildings. When we went into stores, restaraunts and museums we were treated like guests. We went into a sporting goods store and bought a few, minor things; I mentioned I was a cartridge collector and asked if they had any old, wierd stuff. Out from the back came a box, from which I selected fewer items than I would have liked to, because absolutely, positively my money was no good for those items.

I'm disappointed and disgusted by the French position on our current, huge problems, but will always remember the many who hadn't forgotten our mutual sacrifices, 42 years after.

My chromosomes were yet to be joined 1944 but I thank those men who gave their lives and limbs that day. And thank you for remembering CC.

Crossedchisles, I was out in the garden playing with a small model fighter plane made of very cheap stuff when my mother anounced the launch. I was six and the war was a bit confusing and remote but not the effect it had on our daily lives. I do remember the excitment of the day which was catching. We were going to get the Natzis and pay them back for the war. I did not understand at that point the full horror. I did learn and I have been a hawk since. And so to those with a supine political backbone I say "Not Me". david

Chief --- it's amasing what you can remember as a young lad. Dave has brought it all flooding back.

David, I couldn't agree with you more --- here's to the men with backbone/courage. ken

I was only three at the time, having been born shortly before Pearl Harbor, but I do have vivid memories of my father taking me to the local Army air base in Lubbock, Texas and showing me all the gliders that soldiers were training in for the invasion. Strange how such young memories such as this can stick with a person. Just flashes, not clear memories.

I had just finished my Freshman year of high school and became a farm laborer, read the paper every day following the war.

I wasn't around for another 12 years to the day!!! I believe my father to be was in the Pacific on that day with the Marines.

I was nearly three years in the future; my older brother was the family bundle of joy. My father was helping keep the flight deck of the USS Wolverine in repair while they trained carrier pilots on Lake Michigan. His oldest brother was a doctor in charge of health at military construction camps, his immediately older brother was just back from 25 missions as a B-17 radio operator, and his youngest brother would shortly become an infantryman (he did a hike from the Rhein at Remagan across Germany in the spring of '45). My mother's brother was a radar operator in an Avenger, one of her cousins commanded a destroyer and another was XO on a DE in the Pacific. The all came home safe and sound, but they didn't forget!! The rest of the family was growing food or loading 40mm ammo.

I wouldn't be born for quite some time, but my Father lost a cousin at Anzio. I know it effected him deeply, and Dad did 22 years active in the USMC, with a decade after in the reserve.

Godspeed to the casulties we will hear about today, in a different part of the world.
Best,
Ted

Waaay before my time. My maternal grandpa flew a fighter, and my paternal one baked bread at a bakery in Lubeck, Germany.

I was only a "glint in the eye" of a young 2nd Lieutenant waiting in southern England to jump in on D+3. On the approach to Brest and the huge submarine base there, a German sniper took out each of his company's officers until he was senior. 30 minutes later they got him ... one round through both thighs. His sergeant threw him over a hedgerow and into a field, where he lay for 24 hours waiting to be evacuated. Once hospitalized, he somehow talked the docs out of amputating both legs, and after two years in Army hospitals, eventually recovered almost fully -- certainly enough to walk many a mile in search of pheasants.

One of many thousands from many nations, but my personal hero. Thank you, David, for thinking of them all on this special day. Here's to my dad and yours. TT

Way before I was born as well but like many here my father was there,also like many here very quiet about it when asked.
He has passed and while going through his photos and items that where left to me I found a book about this day "Many a Watchful Night" John Mason Brown.He was on the same ship as my father, The Augusta,as was General Bradley,General Royce,Admiral Kirk and Admmiral Struble that day off the coast on Normandy.I also found lots of pictures of him with many of the Generals in the engine room where he was a engineer, a "90 day wonder" he once told me.
Still amazing that so many,all so brave that saved the world could have been so quiet and came home to build a family and life and not say much at all about that time.No fan fare just like it was no big deal.
Very sad to see them pass on with every day soon they will be gone.
Thanks for the post Dave T I think I will sit down tonight and read that book again while looking through those pictures.
DaveK

I was going to school in a fishing village but nothing at the time was more poignant to all those in our village than the death of FDR three weeks before the Nazi surrender. It was as a family member had died.

I do not err in retrospect when I say his death touched this 12-year-old more deeply than any other aspect of the war, even more than the July day in 1942 when the telegram came that my bomber-pilot father had been shot down.

Fathers wouldn't die, no, and he didn't, the only survivor of his crew. Americans should know of the reverence their president commanded and deserved for his leadership as the world watched his body fail his great heart.

Still in the oven baking, didn't come out till a few weeks before Chirstmas!

Thanks CC and everyone for remembering. Thanks to all that Tom Brokaw refers to so aptly as "The Greatest Generation." I had an uncle in the 82nd Airborne that made a jump into Normandy that night and miraculously lived to spend more than 30 years in the 82nd. My Dad was a B17 mechanic in the Army Air Corps. All of these people, men and women, did whatever it took to save the free world. They did it with such dignity and then the lucky ones came home and quietly became our fathers and mothers, uncles and aunts, grandfathers and grandmothers, friends and neighbors. God bless them all.

Ed Pirie
West Topsham, Vermont

My now deceased hunting buddy Ed jumped in behind the German lines at Normandy. He had many tales, and it was an honor to know him. Kept himself clean shaved, high and tight, and very fit, well into his '70's. Americans could never stomach that lewvel of carnage today.

Me?, Well I was still jumping nut to nut for a long time yet.

I did not arrive until the date the 2nd A-bomb was delivered, on Nagasaki.

However . . . June 63, I was being trained by NCO's who were WWII vets; June 69, I was being trained by CIA officers who were OSS vets of WWII. I feel very fortunate to have had them as mentors.

Probably out playing in sand. But that evening I probably listened to the news on the radio by J.V. Kaltenborn while sitting with my parents. Does stir some memories.

I lived along the Railroad Tracks that came from Dallas-Ft. Worth and remember Railcars full of Soldiers,Tanks and Artillary and equipment coming by headed for the Houston Ship Channel. I remember the roar of the B-17s and others as they were headed to Ellington Field S. of Houston. I was on the front porch of the house with my Mother when the fire sirens went off for a long time signeling VJ day. Nearly all the Boys in my little town had gone to the service and most to the Marines.

I don't recall specifically, but I was most likely playing with my wooden Springfield. Busy shooting imaginary Japs and Nazis in the woods behind the house while waiting for my Dad to get back from the Marines in the Pacific at the end of his enlistment and three Uncles to return from the Army in Europe.

June 1944..a VERY important month for me, as I was born in March 1945 in Toronto.
My first name was for my Dad's brother, at that time wearing a funny brown "suit" and successfully dodging bullets and bombs in Holland. Second name for my Aunt's husband who sadly did not dodge all the bullets and bombs in the Liri Valley south of Rome - Pte. Ed Flynn, Toronto Irish Regiment KIA May 1944.

I was there by the grace of people who put the events on the paper.
God bless them all.

I was nowhere during that time. I am just a lad of 58 years, now. I have a dear frind who is near death as I write this. He has told me often of his landing on Normandy beach and crawling on his belly most of the way to Berlin. He tells of the terribly cold Christmas during his stay in the Ardenne Forest and the subsequent help from Patton's 3rd Army. He tells of approaching a small town and, having had no rations for three days, was glad to find some canned pears in an old barn.

I honor those of his day and appreciate all they have given. I don't have a vintage rifle, with which to salute, so I will offer up sincere prayers for the many souls lost during that day.

Regards,
Charles

I might have been a twinkle in my father's eye, but I doubt it, he was still a POW in Germany then. I was born 23 months after that.

Born in 47 but I arrived in time to see the amputee vets on their creepers and furniture dollies in the streets of Cambridge OH. My dad's best friend went to Europe on the Queen Mary. Had pictures. Total mobilization. And my wife's uncle was on the cover of Stars & Stripes while on Guadalcanal. He was one that didn't talk, but it seems like we grew up on the novels and TV shows of the war in Europe, the war in North Africa, the war in the Boot, the war in the islands, North Atlantic convoys, silent running subs, tin cans, battlewagons, B-29s, you name it. Those of us who weren't even around were dominated by it. 47 was the year that "Mr. Roberts" was the "best play" on Broadway. I still can't get over "Requiem for a Wren," Nevil Shute's novel of operations in southern England at the time of the Dunkirk evac.

jack

Part of a sperm count until 1947. Stories of the war were limited in our house for some reason. Dad was a captain in the Army Air Corps and B-17 pilot. Flew G and H's. One plane was named "Sh-t House Mouse" as I remember. Flew out of England to bomb Germany. The 28th of this month I arrainged to have him fly in a B-17 thats coming to a local airshow. Now 87, Paralyzed on his right side by stroke, I bet he'll bound up the steps and take his place up front. IF his hands and feet were capable, I'm not too sure he couldn't still fly it. He's already decided to wear his captains hat and dig out photos to share. Maybe the stories will come out then. Not to be forgotten is my 95 yrs young mother-in-law sitting in the recliner aside of me. An Army nurse in the Pacific theater. A salute to all our soldiers past and present. God Bless. Randy

My father was only 4 years old at the time, so that tells you where I was.

However, my great uncle for whom I am named and who unfortunatley passed away this past October was on Utah beach. He went a shore on the third wave. He lived on Kent Island and is buried only a few miles away from where the next Vintage Cup will be held. Sad thing is that he never talked much about what he saw and what happened, but I can understand his reasons. Next to his casket were displayed not one, not two, but three bronze stars and other awards.

After reading all of these posts and I know there will be more, kind of brings tears to my eyes thinking of all the men and women of previous wars that have fought for this great country. I'm kind of glad that most aren't around now to see what has happened to our schools as to prayer and ommiting "under God" in pledging to our flag, that they so valiantly fought for. Values in most of the younger generation has certainly changed, and in my opinion not for the better.

I did not arrive until 1965, but my father was on a little boat heading towards a little area of France known as Normandy with the rest of the Canadian Fort Garry Horse tank regiment.
His tour ended on a bridge in Holland, where he was wounded and sent back home (which was in the USA).
God Bless them all!!!

I was born a little over a decade after D-Day, my father was just entering basic at Lake Mich., then off to the S. Pacific aboard an ammo ship. One uncle was at Ft Rich in Anchorage, another flying sub patrol out of Florida, one in North Africa initially, then up through Italy, another on board a sub, and the list goes on. Many are still living, but the number of family members from the Greatest Generation shrink, it seems yearly!

A fitting tribute indeed DT, for those on both sides of the Atlantic who sacrificed so much for the generations that followed!

Lance-Corporal D. Trevallion,KRRC(Green Jackets Brigade)23790313.1960-1962(Short-Timer) Just thought I would post the results of the "D-Day" 21 round Salute to all'Those who Served and are Serving Now! My Shooting Ground is deep in the Maine woods,a Good Friends Quarry...50 ac plus.Great Back-Stops,50ft thick, 20ft high. 1943c.ammo.10rds armor piercing(sp)10rds Tracer.1 round wooden'Bullet'!I'm sure my Old Man climbed out of hisbox we buried his 59yr old body in,38yrs ago, just to find out what the Hell are you shooting at now!!!We all looked to the"Beaches" as we toasted "The Generation" That Tom Brokaw has written so well about..I wish I had the ability with words that I have with a Stockers Chisel,...Where's McIntosh when I need Him??Any idea how far that .303 round went out to sea that I fired from the Beach? crossedchisles...Burpp.

Thanks to our Greatest Generation for their sacrifices and saving our freedom. And thanks to the vets of these other less popular wars. My Father fought in the Pacific along with a lot of tough old SOB's. Wouldn't talk about it with a snoot full.
Let's not politicize war!

I was born in early 1941, so too young to be apart of WWII. I did my part though, with the help of my neighbor, Jerry Rapp, our backyards were completely clear of any German or Japanese soldiers. We were able to keep our own little war going well after 1945---and the enemy paid dearly---I don't remember ever losing a battle. I do remember all the great Army Surplus stores around Southern California in the 1950's with all the WWII left overs. By the 1960's they were gone and our little wars were over and I was on to another challenge---girls.

Great topic. My parents weren't even born yet (I was born '88)! Both my grandfathers served. One lied about is age to serve, he never talked much about what he saw, and I never got to meet, much less hunt with him. I hunt fairly regularly with him at night tho. My other grandfathers brother was a POW for a long time. He escaped and made his way to Italy, where he left as a little boy. I need to brush up on all the details of the story, but it was incredible.

God Bless all those who served and who have served.

Alex

Dad was D-Day + 7, and Mom made bullets for the war.
Altho' I was along for the ride with 'em both - I did my part!

I was trying to learn to walk in Pullman, Washington, where my father, a bacteriologist, was working on something "hush, hush" for the Army at Washington State University. I was actually born in Bethesda, MD when he was still working at Fort Dedrick (sp?) MD on the same stuff the year before. His younger brother had the misfortune of being a Marine legation guard in China when the Japanese declared war on us. He spent the entire war in a prison camp in Manchuria. Never talked about the experience; never said a cross word about the Japanese people. Spent the rest of his life in the Marine Corps, including Korea. A very gentle man, who bore his demons silently--I remember once when he came home to us from one of the binge/AWOL episodes that took him every five years or so. He was helping us run a line fence and took off his shirt in the summer heat. His back looked like the test pattern on an old TV screen--a mass of silver lines that were the scars from a whip. Every time he snapped and went on a bender, the USMC broke him back a grade and sent him to us for a few months of ranch work, then back to the Corps, where he was a good Marine and a good father and husband until the next episode. I hope, but do not believe, that our vets with psychic and physical wounds are as well treated today.

I also never knew an uncle on the maternal side who was a fine artist who ended up in an engineer combat battalion. He was wounded and captured on the second day of the Battle of the Bulge and then murdered by SS troops who were angry at his battalion for delaying their advance and apparently used to killing prisoners on the Eastern Front. All we have left of him are a couple of paintings.

Among my first personal memories are of the second anniversary of VJ Day, when we were living in Redondo Beach, CA and I got to stay up after dark to see the fleet firing star shells in celebration. I also remember seeing (and hearing) the Lockheed Ventura PVs and "blimps" that the Naval Reserve was using as trainers coming over the beach at the end of their "patrols" out over the Pacific in 1946. Those old radial engines had a unique growl that still means "airplane" to me!

June 4th will always be a landmark day in my life. My Dad had been away for almost a year which was a very long time in a 3 year old life. I was told that he was in Iceland "working for the government" and a small fur seal doll had been tucked into a package that had arrived only a few weeks before dad himself appeared back on the scene. When he came through the door of our apartment in the Bronx that morning his suit was rumpled, his beard bristly and he smelled of pipe smoke and I'll never forget it. He scooped me up and carried me and his big brown Hartman bag into the bedroom. While he unpacked I played with a little tin airplane painted with the Trans Continental and Western Air colors he had picked up at an airport some place. He went to sleep and didn't wake up until supper time the next day. On the night of June 6th there was a blackout drill in our neighborhood and we sat in the kitchen with the gas jets lit on the stove to give a little light. My brother, 9 years my senior had just returned from his Boy Scout meeting with a quart of Tuti-Fruti ice-cream. My dad dished out generous portions for each of us, turned on Gabriel Heeter ...... "Ah, there's good news tonight" Heeter said. My brother jumped up and down at the news ....... my father puffed his pipe. "It's a start ..... it's a start" he said swapping the pipe for the ice-cream spoon and finishing off the last of the Tuti-Fruti.

I must admit that I am not sure that I "remember" all of this or if my memory has been enhanced by years of remembering the Tuti-Fruti story with my brother ..... and then my children.

Al

Hi all, My dad was an infantryman in the 88th Inf Div (The "Blue Devils" as the Germans called them.)in Italy, in fact he was in Rome on 6-6-44. The 88th was the first unit to enter Rome along with the 1st SSF (The "Devils Brigade")the day before D-Day.

God Bless all our Vets!

Greg

Vintage 303 Enfield used for the memorial twenty-one round salute to all the veterans.
cc

I wasn't quite two on D Day. Two of my uncles and my mother-in-law all served. My father was in the National Guard but was never shipped overseas. I have been a W II history buff since I was a child. I was fortunate enough to have several opportunities to chat with Mark Clark since he retired to the town where I attended college. I used to visit with Joe Foss all the time until he died a couple of years ago. My wife still stays in touch with his widow DiDi.
I for one will never forget the sacrifices the men and woman made.
Crosschisels: That's a very nice display you have there.
Jim

I have visited Omaha beach, and will never understand how they managed to get ashore much less take it. God bless them all. (When it happened, I was not even a gleem in my father's eye, because he was only four years old!)

Bouvier, that's the prettiest of pictures in a time when really nothing was pretty. It's a good copy for any father or mother to try to explain the feelings then. Thank you

Daryl

Derek,email,Atlanta. The'Chap' under the Brown Beret is mr 34yr old Father, He shipped out back to france next day. my Mother (The Hat')had the foto'taken at Marble Arch Studios Jan 4th 1945.He was on the"Push" up through Belgium, Holland,and was in Hamburg for the Wednesday,May 9th 1945, Surrender of the Nazi War Machine that Keitel signed in Berlin. He made it back to England,(All in one Piece)He never talked about the 6 plus years he spent in Uniform,That was untill I was called for 'National Service at 18.we sat in his 'Local' and I met 5 of his 'Mates' that 'Did The War" with him.I Bonded with my Old Man after hearing what they went through. He died 14 days into his 59th Year. DT.

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.

Daryl

I'm happy you liked "Tuti-Fruti" It's a family story we tell each other often when remembering my Dad. My mother told me many years later after his death that Dad had been miserable when they wouldn't take him ...... he was to old, had two kids and one bad eye. Somehow he pulled some strings (he was a labor organizer in the baking industry) and got assigned to a "project". My mother told me that Iceland was only a stop on the way back from Russia. He never talked about what he did and didn't let my mother tell us anything. But then it was his view of life that you just do your job, enjoy your family and get on with it with a minimum of fuss. A lesson I have tried to learn and pass on.

Before my time. Father was in the Pacific on a formerly Japanese held island. Lot of that went on according to him. He was and still is a big fan of "General MacAuthur". Felt losses would have been much greater with others in charge. Marines had to do the job they got and my father says Mac kept moving ahead and did not waste men on what he considered stupid moves. He was there so I will give him the right to say anything he wants about Mac, the marines and the navy.

Three uncles were in the European theater. Two on my mothers side and one on my father side. One was assigned as a driver to SHEAF in London and stayed there till the Battle of the Bulge. Then he was given a rifle and sent to the front. God he hated cold to his dying day. Guess he hoped the "soft duty" would last until the end of the war.

Second uncle went ashore at 11:00 on D-day. Saw action for two weeks until wounded and evacuated for about two months. Just got back to France about two months later and saw very limited duty after that. He was in Southern France area and missed almost the entire rest of the war to hear him tell it. But unless I miss my guess he was just a little closer to the front than he admits as his metals earned could not have all come from two weeks of duty. Most likely he, like a lot of others would like to forget a lot of what happened.

Third uncle went ashore in the first wave. He said his landing craft got in without any major problems but the next three waves were just about wiped out. Seems the Germans had them under constant fire, arty, heavy mortar and machine gun fire for hundred of yards before they hit the beach. A lot of men never got out of the landing craft alive. He did mention that he sure saw and heard enough action in the first few hours to last him for several lifetimes. Potato masher grenade cost him the hearing in his left ear, a part of his nose and some of the hearing in his right ear.

I never bothered asking these men for lots of battle stories. Ghost and dead buddies had been at rest for far to long for me to dredge them up. Now the uncles are all dead and with them go a lot of pain and what I suspect was shared terror from that day. Watching the movie Private Ryan was as real as any footage that my father had ever watched he said one night. Only things missing was smoke, the smell of blood and crap and men asking for their mothers or crying after being hit and the smell of fear. No one wanted to die.

To the men who endured all this Hell I can only say you have my lifetime respect and thanks. If the elected officials displayed on tenth of the guts and courage that these men had that day this nation would be a far better place.

Wasn't born yet either. But when I came along three years later I remember my parents looking at me and saying, "My God, look at the head on this thing!!"

I was born in '38 and lived in Chicago and 6 years old at the time. I remember seeing fighters flying in formation overhead - P51's,Lightnings, and bombers. We also had a temporary Army camp four blocks from where our house with hundreds of canvas tents placed neatly in rows. I also remember my father talking about gas rationing and the black market. It seems that with a war - or no war, there was and is always someone out there making an illegal buck. Gasoline pricing keeps rearing it's ugly head!

I also remember seeing small American flags in the windows of neighbors homes with a second small flag with stars noting the number of family members in the military who died in WW2.

I'm a "baby boomer", didn't arrive on the scene until '51.
My wife's father was a US Army infantry man in Italy & Germany, he would never talk about his experiences, I do know he received two purple hearts. My mother-in-law worked at the Curtis Wright propeller factory.
Dad was in the Navy in the Pacific, he was the only man on deck on ARB-9, USS Ulysses in the typhoon at Buckner Bay in the Philipines. He whitnessed a mine sweeper slice a 8' gash in the side of his ship.
Mom's younger brother was killed at the Battle of the Bulge.

I wasn't born untill '52. My uncle joined the Marines in 1939. He was captured at the fall of Correigedor in 1942. From there he spent the next 39 months in a Japanese prison camp in Manchuria. He did not return home untill 1946. This was the first time he had seen his home since leaving in 1939. My grandmother was the only person to refuse to believe he was dead. Untill his death a few years back he always felt that they were deserted by Macarthur. My uncle is a true hero in my book. Truly a part of the greatest generation.

I was seven and likely with my parents listening to the big event on a radio that was about four feet tall and three feet wide.

DT/CC -
June 6 1944 - I was 7 mos. old and learning to be a good listener according to my mom. It all came in very handy later in life as I found out what friends and family did before, during and after that fateful day: We had a neighbor just over our back fence who'd involuntarily flinch, tightening his shoulders when a car backfired or the kids up the block threw a cherry bomb too close on the 4th of July. Turns out he jumped into St. Mere Eglise with the 82nd Airborne the night before the Allies went ashore at Normandy. My dad had a cousin who took one through the knee on the beach at Anzio when Patton took Sicily. Had an uncle whose B-24 Liberator made it through 8 missions before flak and fighters took her down over Magdeburg in September of '43. He spent the remainder of the war at Stalag Luft 4 in Pomerania near Gross Tychow (now Poland)and was one of the very first to see the new ME 262 jet fighters being tested on an adjacent airfield. Liberated by the Russians advancing westward to Berlin in May of '45, they walked out with them to freedom. Worked for a time with a man who served on a gun crew on a destroyer in the Pacific that drew picket line position # 19 North the night before the massive kamikaze assault at Okinawa. All things I like to think about when I'm griping about a "tough day at the office." KBM