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Eternally In Their Debt.
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Occasionally though, just very occasionally somebody comes along for whom those words are an absolutely apt description.
R.I.P. Rob
My Dad was one of the "D-Day Dodgers".
They were called this as banter. They were the people who, between 1942-44 fought across North Africa and then Italy. No less heroic than the D-Day soldiers. It is just that, due to where they fought, they had a sun tan
My Dad was wounded at Monte Cassino. Only mentioned it to me once. Spent over a year in hospital in Scotland. Got part of his own tank through him.
He is no longer with us. Died 8 years ago. He was one of the youngest Conscripts in the Army. And, he would be 100 now.
They were brave, brave men and women.
They both survived, although one was invalided out after taking shrapnel from an enemy grenade for the second time, I'd have thought once was enough, and they never thought they did anything heroic or brave. Just that they were youngish men sent to kill other youngish men.
They didn't really talk about it much.
I only learned after they had both passed away that one had taken an enemy life in a close quarter fight and it had burdened him with guilt for the rest of his life. No glorified heroics, no war stories just a stoic acceptance that they had done their bit.
His brother in law however, had been a prisoner of the Japanese in Burma. I can remember as a Child, staying at my Nans, hearing him screaming in the middle of the night. He was filled with hatred, anger and fear.
He didn't talk about it either, but he didn't talk about it in a different way.
All I know is that we owe every one of them a debt and maybe a Nation of tolerance, compassion and understanding would be a small repayment and a fitting legacy.