"Greg Guarino" wrote:

My Dad is 92 and doesn't go out very often these days. That's a
recent development, and he doesn't like it very much. He worked as
an attorney until just a couple of years ago. When he does go out
(usually with me accompanying him on an errand) he often wears his
WWII Veteran cap. People notice; As you say, WWII vets are getting
more scarce.

He served in the U.S. Army in the Italy campaign. Like many, he
never talked a great deal about the war, excepting some humorous
bits. I'll have to ask him what his rank was at the end of the war.
It was at least Lieutenant, perhaps Captain. He remembers things
like that a good bit better than more recent events.

After Italy had surrendered, my Dad had been promised a trip to
Switzerland before heading home. He was all packed to go when he got
a set of last-minute orders. Switzerland would have to wait.

A proclamation had been prepared, memorializing the fallen on both
sides and announcing a new era of friendship and cooperation between
Italians and Americans. It was written in very formal Italian and
the Army needed an officer who spoke some Italian to read it in each
of many towns and cities in northern Italy.

My dad led a unit of (I believe) a couple of hundred and read the
proclamation in the town square of each new location. Sometimes on
the city hall steps, sometimes even in the window of the cathedral
bell tower. And the whole town would be there. He felt "like 'Il
Duce'", he would remark.

He never got to Switzerland, and owing to a busy practice, never got
back to Europe at all until he was 70 or so.

He stayed in the Reserve until his 30 years were up, going to
monthly meetings and attending two weeks a year of training. By then
he was a Colonel, so our family got to with him several times on
those summer training trips.

My Dad had a tough time getting away, so a couple of weeks at
Indiantown Gap (PA) or Fort Devens (MA) would be our vacation. The
accommodations were pretty spartan, but there was usually a lake or
a pool and - away from his office - my Dad had his evenings free.
We'd go for a drive to the local ice cream parlor or to a movie, or
perhaps just a spin through the countryside on the middle weekend.

His Reserve outfit was a Civil Affairs unit; he was the Commander of
a bright bunch of officers trained to take over the operation of an
occupied city in wartime, or an American city if the war was at
home. Luckily none of that ever came to pass, but my Dad did get to
do an overnight stint as Mayor of New York City once for training
purposes.

I'm sorry to go on for this long, but I've been slowly gathering my
thoughts about such things lately. My Dad only became "old" very,
very late in life, but the time is coming when I may need to compose
something in his honor. There will be no way to make it adequate,
but I hope to come up with something fitting.
--------------------------------------------------------------------

"Sorry", HELL, you have nothing to be sorry about except if you don't
take
the time to document your father's tales while you still can.

Time is not on your side, don't waste it.

I lost my mother at 103 in 2008.

I got a lot of it, but could have gotten more.

Good luck.

Lew