WWII Vet Boogies Down While Stuck at the Airport

I love these guys that fought in WWII. I make it a point to start a conversation with any that I see anywhere, if they want to talk. I love hearing the stories of the battles or their job when they were in the war back then. Very few don't want to tell their story. I started a conversation at an airport months ago with an old WWII Navy man. I recognized his service by the hat he wore. I thought we would talk for 10-15 minutes, but it turned out to be almost an hour. He was traveling to Florida with his daughter who lived in Boston and was taking him back home. I was waiting on my connecting flight, which was 2 hours late due to weather conditions at the other end.
 
oldman said:
I love these guys that fought in WWII. I make it a point to start a conversation with any that I see anywhere, if they want to talk. I love hearing the stories of the battles or their job when they were in the war back then. Very few don't want to tell their story. I started a conversation at an airport months ago with an old WWII Navy man. I recognized his service by the hat he wore. I thought we would talk for 10-15 minutes, but it turned out to be almost an hour. He was traveling to Florida with his daughter who lived in Boston and was taking him back home. I was waiting on my connecting flight, which was 2 hours late due to weather conditions at the other end.
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I'm like you I love the old vets, in fact all the real old people 'cause they all have stories to tell. I remember my Grandma on Mom's side telling me stories of her youth in Amarillo and Okla. She was half Cherokee and had a hard life. In her early days it was hard on a NA there and so she always tried to downplay her heritage. They were poor and she told me of the cold nights when her Mom would heat a small boulder, heat it by the fireplace, wrap it in cloth and put it in the kids beds to warm them. At the time of her story telling Grandma was in her eighties and I in my 20's but I used to drive 350 miles several times a year to help her around her place in the desert. At night, by the fire, we looked into the flames, drank coffee and she and I talked. I'll never forget her and I'll love her till I too am as she has now been for many years, gone.
 
Hey Jim: When I visited my Great Grandma as a wee little one and I would stay over with her and my Mom and Dad, she would put a hot water bag in my little bed in her room. I wasn't maybe 4 or 5 years old, but I can see her face, if I close my eyes and think about her. She was the greatest. Even then, I knew what love was, i just didn't know what it was called. The emotion is what I am speaking about.

My Dad was career military and fought in WWII and Korea. He retired as a Sergeant First Class, but should have had a higher rank. He was busted back twice for having beer in his trench coat pockets while on a train in France and again here in the U.S. I heard plenty of war stories from him. He had his ear drums blown out in France. His unit missed D-Day by one day. To hear him talk was like watching a documentary on the Military channel. Get a few beers in him and he could go all night long.

Oh, Brother. Great memories!!
 
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