A few years ago, I met a man in his eighties. He was plump and hard of hearing, but he walked and drove without assistance. His humor and intellect were still sharp. He wouldn’t have drawn any interest from me, except that he approached us after an impromptu trap shooting contest at the local gun club. We were in uniform, and I was glowing with pride (and complete surprise) at having had the second-highest score for our group ( I was switch-shooting, alternating hands every few shots). As I was basking in the glow of pride, the safety scorer leaned down gestured toward the old man and whispered to me. ” He’s a world-war two vet… stormed the beaches of Normandy on D-day all the way to Hitler’s living room.” Suddenly the unremarkable man with big ears and a kind smile looked more like Iron man to me. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to ask him about it, or anything, just to hear him speak. I shyly said, ” so I hear you were in the army.” He replied, ” Sort – of. We had our own kind of army… the 101st.” and with that, he gave me a smirk and continued past. I almost fainted.
