Probably ten years ago my Dad invited me to a dinner with a bunch of his friends. I had just seen a movie days before on the Battle of the Bulge. One of his y

Probably ten years ago my Dad invited me to a dinner with a bunch of his friends. I had just seen a movie days before on the Battle of the Bulge. One of his younger friends was a high school history teacher. So I started chatting with him about the movie. Out of the blue one of my dad's friends says real quietly I was there. Now I had known this guy for over forty years at this time and never knew he was even in the war. I ask if he could tell us a little bit about his experience. He said I've never talked about it, never even told my late wife. I don't know if it was the beer that flowed freely that night or what but he started a stream of consciousness about that battle. He talked about the bitter cold. How he never wanted to be that cold ever again in his life. He talked about his best friend who died right next to him in that battle. The absolute randomness of who lived and who died. How they had to scrounge for supplies and improvise. They'd been told if they surrendered the Germans would kill them. How the battle turned when the skies cleared enough for them to get air support. The history teacher wanted to get him to speak to his class. But before it could be set up he died. My dad learned from his brother afterward that he'd had nightmares every night of his life over the war. This guy was a brick of the community, he and my father did all sorts of volunteer work after they retired. I hope telling his story that night gave him some peace. Truly they were the greatest generation.