My dad who introduced me to firearms passed away. When he gave me his service revolver in 1970 and told me his only story about his service in WW2, he never talked about it except for this one story.
When he went to sign up after the war began he was told he could only be a cook. dad being as sharp as ever told them "I don't want to feed the enemy, I want to kill them".
Unfortunately back during that time certain americans were relegated to certain inferior positions, as if their patriotism was a question.
Dad got in and ended up a member of the 761st Tank Battalion. You war history buffs should know the name, if you don't do a GOOGLE search
Dads only regret was that after the war that nazis could come to this country and buy a house in a neighborhood where he could not buy or that nazi could come to this country and send his kids to schools we could not attend.
Dad kept his .45 side arm ,which he passed on to me with its original holster, which I prize as my most important material possession and every time I take it out to clean, I remember the sacrifices he and that part of the GREATEST GENERATION made without so much as a whimper.





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