That's true, Amos. I am haunted to this very day. And actually I timed shooting down the barrel of the 88 so that my bullet would impact the fuze of the shell just before they closed the breech. And it wasn't a .45 -- I used a spent bullet that had lodged in the bible in my breast pocket (one of several) propelled by a rubber band I happened to have handy. MacArthur himself gave me a medal for it, but I refused it, saying that anyone could and would have done the same.

Sure, if that tank had gotten through it would have probably plugged the gap through with Our Boys were pouring and the entire invasion would have been in vain. But I was only doing my duty for God, Country, and the memory of the sweet kiss Linda bestowed on me when I left.