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I remember, quite clearly, one middle of the night during WW II when I was a child!

My father was a Boy Scoutmaster and had a troop of boys from "across the river" - many from poor home lives! He watched many of them as they marched off to war -- many to never return!

A loud knock at the door woke us all up. It was one of his boys with his army dufflebag hanging from a shoulder, that had no arm attached to it.

He lost it storming ashore at D-Day - on Omaha Beach in Normandy, France. He had to crawl in the cold waves after his arm was nearly severed by intense German responses to the invasion.

And, he was scared to go home to his parents alone as they had no knowledge of his injuries!

Dad walked him down the hill we lived on, across the bridge to his "boy's" home! Then dad went to work in the nearby mill busy at work making things for the war effort.

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And, I remember after the Korean War, while walking down the hometown main street, when I met a former classmate of mine from high school.

He had recently returned to the states following his release from a North Korean POW Camp!

This fellow was a wise guy in school and had few friends because of it, so he enlisted in the army. He was now a quiet type guy!

He was waiting for a call from a Pittsburgh Veteran's Hospital for surgery on his disfigured hands -- from being hung for days by his fingers by his cruel captors!

And there was a college fraternity brother of mine who also was a Korean War Veteran. He was wounded walking alongside a tank for cover from Communist gunfire when the tank was hit by a shell exploding and severly burning both his legs

At college he loved to play tennis. And, he was a good player!

But, after every time he played he had to remove bandages from both legs -- bloodied from burn scars bursting open from the pressure on them from the tennis match!