MY VETRAN'S DAY HERO

My dad was born March 10, 1923 on a farm in rural Montana with eight brothers and sisters during the Great Depression. At 15 (1938) he worked in a CCC camp because there was no food or jobs at home. At 17 years my dad lied about his age in order to get into the U.S. Army Air Corp to fight in World War II. (After 1942 it would be called the Air Force.) It was his dream to get out of Montana, and fly in a plane. On his test flight he puked his guts out, but begged the officer to let him stay in the Air Corp which he did. My dad would fly 30 missions over Nazi occupied territory as a tail-gunner in the famous B-24's. Stephen E. Ambrose wrote an excellent book called, "The Wild Blue" which is about the men and boys who flew these “tin coffins” over enemy occupied territory. 

Because of the poverty he experienced in his youth my dad seldom took things for granted, either material possessions or relationships. He always appreciated a good meal, a roof over his head and the few clothes he owned. He married my mother at the age of 30, and had his three girls relatively late in life. Which made his family all the more important to my dad. He loved his family above all else although he never expressed that love with hugs and kisses. It just wasn't in his nature. But we all knew we were loved beyond measure. 

It was also late in life that my dad gave his life to the Lord. He served God at 45 years of age along with his family. We never went without. Our needs came before his own. He barely finished high school, but he loved to learn, always had a job, and didn't believe in sitting around doing nothing. After 20 years serving in the military he worked 15 more years in the post office before retiring. After retirement he bought, then refinished and sold antiques so he always had money to spend on others, and hooked huge "personal history" rugs as family heirlooms. 

People always came before things, and that's what I admired most about him. Tonight I’m thankful for this man who fought for our country and our freedom; the man who was my dad. He passed away four years ago, but my memories are as strong as ever. 

Dad (standing far right) in England just before a mission during WWII.