I'm spending Memorial Day Weekend reminiscing about my dad's service in World War II. Call it a blog indulgence. Back to regular programming on Tuesday.
I have less than a dozen pictures of my dad during the time he served in the infantry. These are from training. The most special thing about the two pictures on the left is that he wrote notes on them before he sent them home to his father.
The note on one of them reads:
"Father, This is my picture with a full field pack. The full field pack weighs fifty pounds, inside of it we have a blanket, tent, mess kit, under wears, toilet articles, and tent poles that fold up. All of this gets rolled up in a tight pack, and on the outside we have a small pick, small shovel, rifle, bayonet, and belt with ammunition."
I found the real treasure on the back of the other one:
"Father, This is my picture. It was taken when we were out on maneuvers. We were sent out on a combat patrol to recognize the front of the enemy. I was sent out ahead of the patrol, as a scout, and a few minutes later a machine gun cut loose right in front of me, and I was ruled out of the game. When a man is ruled out, he just sits around and waits, so I decided to take some pictures while I was waiting."
I never remember my father taking photographs, but, given my passion for photography, it thrills me to learn that he decided to take pictures on that day. It's a connection I never realized we had before. But one that I will now treasure.