My grandpa didn't talk about the war. My grandmother gleaned bits and pieces of information from his nightmares: we know that one night he survived an attack by pure chance- he scurried into the wrong foxhole. His friends perished in the other.
Grandpa refused to go camping. He said he did enough camping in the war. Instead, he maintained his home to a fault, forever grateful for the warmth and comfort it provided him.
He flew his American flag outside his home every day.
I was so proud to be his granddaughter.
Thank you veterans- your sacrifices overwhelm me.