My father was in the Engineer Corps. All I really know is that when the war was over and he eventually came home (his battalion went into the Concentration camps as soon as the war was over to clean up) he burned his uniform..everything except his boots. Those were too comfortable to burn, he said.
He didn't speak to us about his experience. When we would get together with our parents' friends, the men would get together and laugh about old war stories. We laughed and said, "There they go again" and ignored them.
I eventually regretted not listening in to those stories.
When my father died in 1980, in cleaning out his things I went into his wallet. There, wrapped in smooth cellophane (I learned that now many people haven't experienced cellophane so let me explain one thing. Smooth cellophane meant that it wasn't opened and re-closed. Just wrapped once and left). There, wrapped in smooth cellophane were 4 photos. He never looked at them. He just always needed to have them with him. To the day he died. 4 photos that he took in cleaning up the camps. I look at those photos every now and then and think of the horrors that so many of these brave fighting men experienced....and the horrors that so many innocent people lived and died through.
In WWII and all wars.
Thank you to all who have served and blessings to all who suffered
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