“Back in 1941 when I made corporal, I was standing there cussing up a storm when my Sergeant came up an…”
Ray waved his empty hand back and forth as he drank some of his beer. He continued, “Different story. You’re getting me sidetracked, Becky. Anyway, your dad and I served in the 41st Infantry together in World War II and we saw lots of action. You heard of the good old days?”
“These weren’t those if you know what I mean. We saw some heavy combat and we both killed our share of people to stay alive. We were both good at it. Damn, I’m starting to sound like an old, war mongering fool.”
“No! Please don’t stop. Dad doesn’t talk about this time of his life much.” said Becky. “He talks mostly about the times when he wasn’t directly involved with any fighting. I’m really interested to know what it was like.”
Ray looked at the woman next to him, he sipped from his beer. He thought carefully about what he was going to say next.
“You had the right idea about war in general when you were involved in the protests during the Vietnam War. It’s a bad thing and there are no real winners when a conflict gets to the stages it did in those days. You need to understand, though, that there’s a time and place for it. When you have a Hitler or someone like him, you must make a stand and do what needs to be done. The alternative could be worse than war itself. War isn’t the flag waving and other garbage that you hear about. Its death and destruction, plain and simple. Don’t get me wrong, you must believe what you’re fighting for is right and worth dying for. You need to know when talking will get you the same results and when there’s no other alternative. As one of my grandsons says, Dying is a bad thing.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish