More on VBOB

As promised, although delayed because it's been busy as hell at work, here is more about the most recent VBOB meeting. At the conclusion of the meeting we were invited to the local military history museum. Of course my buddy Doug and I jumped at the chance. For me, the most affecting display was the military weapons room. There I saw the exact Japanese rifle my dad had hanging on the wall of our basement right down to the bolt action, the pop up gun sight, and the gun stock. I was both glad and sad to see it. Glad because it was just as I remembered it although my dad refused to give any but the barest details of his service in the Pacific. Sad because my dad didn't live long enough to open up at least a little about his experiences. But the museum is much more than that. It chronicles the history of our local troops from the Spanish American War through the current wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. As Doug said, "It's like a mini Smithsonian!" I could not agree more.

If you are fortunate enough to have a museum such as this in your area, I encourage yo to go. It's an experience you won't forget. For now ... good night.

The latest Veterans of the Battle of the Bulge meeting

My buddy Doug and I went to the VBOB meeting about a week ago. It was a short but fascinating one. First, our friend John was shot five times before he was captured in the first days of the battle. Three bullets went through his side. A fourth bullet went into his left shirt pocket lodging in his copy of the New Testament which he kept there, saving him from a grievous chest wound. The fifth bullet struck his left arm tearing the muscle from the bone, and he has the scar to prove it.

As further proof, he held up the uniform shirt he was wearing when he was captured. Each bullet hole was distinctly visible, and the left sleeve was cut off where German doctors had attempted to reattach his bicep to the bone and actually succeeded. John was captured in December and wore that shirt until he was liberated the following April.

The ironic thing is that John's uniform shirt was supposed to have been burned when he and his comrades were liberated and before they were deloused. He got it home somehow and didn't even realize he had it until his wife was cleaning recently and found it in a closet. We all forget things of course, but imagine being so overwhelmed by the course of events that you forget where you put your clothes?

War is ugly. War is violent. Any vet will tell you that if you can gain his or her confidence. War is also sometimes necessary, although not always. They'll tell you that too.

More to follow about the meeting, but for now good night.