I definately echo Brooke - when I saw the mud in Italy, I too thought of
Rocky and like you Marion - I thought of all of us watching this "together".
Hey M1! We're all "Marion's Peeps" now! (You poor thing! )
Dogdaddy, I certainly relate to what you said about your Dad
seldom speaking about the war itself & talking mostly about his
buddies. It was like that with my Dad too. I think they put everything
away in an interior trunk labeled "the War", but that trunk always
was carried around within them nonetheless.
Every once & awhile, you'd get a glimpse of something but didn't
really understand what it meant. My Dad's "baby" brother Joe was also
in the Army and he died of cancer when he was only 56.
At Joe's wake in Wellesley - all their old neighbors
& friends came to pay their respects. One of them was a fellow
named Ed Slamin who grew up with them & was in the Infantry
with Dad in '41. I stood spellbound watching the greeting my father
& he gave each other. They grinned at each other with misty eyes &
thumped each other on the back. Though I didn't understand why at the time,
I knew that something was being shared by them that was different & made
everyone else "outsiders". Now I realize it was the recognition of "another of my kind"
who had to tote that heavy "war " suitcase around.
here's a photo of the brothers in March '41 (after Dad got drafted) and one of Joe in March '45.
I know he was in England for awhile & I think he drove an ambulance
Can anyone tell what his sleeve patch is?.