Cousin Dorothy Caldwell was one of the first American women in Berlin at the end of WWII. But she has never said anything about it. She's 95 now. She slept through Christmas dinner, so I don't think we'll ever hear her story.
Dad was taken prisoner at Zidibouzid (I probably haven't spelled that right.) after a long, hungry seige. He spent several years in a POW camp. He finally escaped, near the end of the war, and crossed Poland, in wintertime, to the Russian lines.
He used these stories to lecture his daughters, when they complained of just about anything.
I can remember one of those lectures, when I was on my hands and knees crawling around the dining room table. I was doing DelCato therapy, which, among other tortures, involves crawling in a special way for 45 minutes a day.
Dad was a remarkable man.
It's probably for the best that I don't complain much, and I don't expect sympathy.
It's odd, because I don't think dad thought DelCato therapy worked, and of course, it doesn't. But it is a first class way to torture children!