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I want to remember our boys... on ALL days. It's probably been ten years now, but I remember a piece somewhere about WWII vets that really nailed me.
There was this Hispanic guy from Texas whose story had made me cry so hard my desk was awash. It was after D-Day, as our boys were making their way to Berlin. A bunch of German troops were fast approaching a company of our men who had just settled down for the evening in some likely camping spot. He'd been on watch, and had not discovered the approaching Germans until they were almost upon them.
He ran first back to the encampment to alert his brothers to run and they ran, while he ran back to the road to make a last stand to slow up the Germans so the rest could get away. He'd planted himself on the highest ground he could get to, not even a bush for a moment's cover, knowing these were his very last moments on this sweet Earth.
When in the twilight he finally could see the Germans all had their hands in the air.
They were surrendering to him.
pipe up any time....
