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My grandpa was a SeaBee - Shipfitter Second Class James A. Hill. He didn't talk much about what he saw in the Pacific, but he came home with jungle rot from all the time he spent island-hopping. I know he had an old Japanese battle flag that he kept as a war trophy, and that he was proud to do his duty. He came home, adopted my mom and my aunt, and spent the rest of his life raising his kids and grandkids. Staunch union man, lifelong Democrat, and the must stubborn man I ever knew when he set his mind to something. Been gone 12 years now. I still miss the old curmudgeon.

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My dad was a D-Day vet...he passed in 1987. He never really talked much about the war. 25 missions in a B-24 over Germany & Occupied France. As he put it once: "5% didn't come back each mission, and you flew 25 missions...do the math." Of the 12 crews that went over in October 1943 as a part of the 700 Bomb. Squadron (Heavy), only his returned. While doing research in the National Archives, I came across his handwriting on the navigation debriefs for the mission on D-Day. It turns out he was the lead navigator for the Eighth Air Force that morning. He never mentioned it. Days like today, I really miss the old man.

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When will Fox call for this scoundrel's prosecution for desertion of a retirement home?

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Both my parents served in the Air Force on the ground- my mom trained air gunners to recognize what type of plane was headed for them so they'd know who to shoot. My dad was radio ground crew. My mother's brother was a bomb aimer on a Lancaster, shot down over Nuremberg, only member of the crew who survived, ended up a POW and came home at the end of the war. He was the sweetest, gentlest, quietest man I knew.

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