My father was in Merrills Mauraders in Burma. The things he saw there stayed with him all his life. He went to his grave hating the Japanese.
Two of moms brothers were in Europe; one as a gunner on a B-17, the other as an infantryman. At Omaha Beach, the landing craft he was in stopped too soon. He was the only survivor of his platoon as he was the only one that could swim. Alcohol was the only way he could muffle their cries and he died of drink in '58.
Dad stayed in and went through Korea and Viet Nam as did my brother and I.
It bugs the hell out of me that the sacrifices made by the nation from '42 to '45 are now largely ignored.

troll