Much to the relief of my grandparents, my dad was too young to serve during World War II. But he enlisted in the armed forces anyways and was later stationed on Adak, one of the Aleutian islands off the coast of mainland Alaska. Although the war was over, there were still lots of reminders on the island- broken plane parts, bullet shells and of course, the talk of those G.I.s who had actually seen combat in Europe. These men spoke of the battles fought and the many friends who, sadly, didn’t make it home.
My dad is in the front row, fifth man from the left.
Over forty years later, our son Curtis (at age 8) tried on my dad’s uniform jacket and hat.