When my father joined the Navy at the start of the Second World War, he was one of most, of his friends and brothers. Whole towns were left almost manless. It was the brave, manly, virtuous, patriotic and reverent thing to do. Daring to face death defending your country against any enemy was the most honorable duty you could perform. It was without question, the right thing to do. Because of that belief and attitude, we won that war.

I remember my dad only talked about the antics and mischief he engaged in during the war, while at sea and at the end in Japan. Early in training on a 5-inch anti-aircraft gun, he shot down the tow plane because his trainer wanted him to LEAD THE TARGET!!! It was one of, if not the first, downed aircraft in the Pacific. The closest to the actual war his stories ever got was when he told how the Marines liked him because they didn't get their feet wet, but the captain wasn't pleased about it. Somehow I know it was because he wanted them to have a better chance to survive the hell of the beach, even if it cost a boat, and him. He never got totally beached, though, obviously.

I just wanted to write this about my Dad today.