I met him.
The others, never, and considering the time that's passed between when these pictures were taken and now, I'm betting they're all gone. I missed my chance.
This is a photo of my father's B-17 crew. I've tried researching their plane, Hell From Heaven, but it eludes me. I found it once, searching the internet many years ago, but every time I search now, I can't find it. Which means, I can't find out who these brave men were. My mother knew of them--one, I don't know which, was from Montana or Wyoming...some place close. She might have met him, I'm not sure. But, my mother's gone, too, so, once again, I've reached an impasse.
Today, we honor veterans. They deserve the day--they deserve more than a day, a month, a year. The life I've lived would be vastly different had the millions of families not sacrificed their greatest gifts--their sons, daughters, fathers, mothers--to defeating evil.
Because I've never met (save one...) of the men in these photos, I don't know their stories, their histories, their experiences. I'm sure there are living descendants who have heard the stories. I'd love to spend time with their children and find out what happened, answer many of the questions I've had since I was old enough to understand the war and those who fought in it.
I've heard that many of those who served and sacrificed didn't like to talk about what happened...a reasonable response. Had I the opportunity to ask them what happened those decades ago on foreign lands and they refused to answer, I would have nothing but respect for them and move on.
But, if they chose to share, I'd soak up every fact, every detail. If that happened, maybe I'd regret knowing what they did. I hope not, because it's knowledge, knowledge I could pass to my children so those sacrifices wouldn't be forgotten.
To me, they're heroes, and always will be.
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