Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire My father, one of the Last of the Greatest Generation,

I was born on VE Day, and grew up with the greatest generation. They were in charge of things when I began my working life. As they retired from the scene, things began to deteriorate, until by the time I retired they were sorely missed. These were people forged in the Great Depression, the Dust Bowl and by doing difficult work well. They knew things, they could do things, they didn't whine, but they did on occasion sit staring off into a distance that may have held dreams of what could have been.

My father was not of the Greatest Generation, he predated it having been born in 1893. He served in The Great War, in the Army Flying Corps, and during World War II built landing craft for the Pacific Theater. My mother was born in 1908, she welded those same landing craft together. Yet my father suffered from what today we call PTSD, as evidenced by his nightmares. He died when I was ten years old. We can only offer our love and honor to these great individuals, yet that will never be enough to heal their scars or quite the nightmares. I rest assured that they are held in the loving arms of their Father where all wounds are healed, their mind set at peace, and the heart is once again made blameless.

If there is one simple statement that can be said, it would be: Well done.