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Rant deleted. See, if you don’t check it every 15 minutes you might miss some incredibly insane rant.
‘Cause I’m full of those.
Anyway: I’ve been watching Operation Homecoming. Soldiers coming home to their family and their stories.
I like it. I have two grandfathers that served in WWII and an uncle that was in Vietnam.
I don’t know much about my grandfather’s military history. He was in the US Army Air Force in WWII and I believe was in Military Intelligence. As the story goes, his job was to recognize planes flying overhead from their engine sound.
Since I was a history major in college, my grandmother gave me some memorabilia from his tour of service. I have a cloth map of the area that I think was used to direct pilots, a two-dollar bill signed by his fellow soldiers, and two sets of his dog tags.
And I hold and appreciate these dog tags for their significance. They have his name, some long number that I’m guessing is his… what? Serial number? And the address of his mother. I think it also includes his blood type and ranking.
And as I hold them, I think about them. These tags were worn around my grandfather’s neck as he fought in a war. A war.
And I’m holding them, maybe 50 years later.
I miss my grandpa.