Words escape me. My father served in the South Pacific too. He never spoke of it much, but when he did it was one of those moments when you knew you were being graced with visions of greatness. My father, Sterling Thomas Tate, lost his three best friends on the island of Iwo Jima when a shell exploded between them. He was evacuated to a ship, patched up, and sent back to the island for another few weeks. For years the shrapnel in his shoulder would hurt enough to wake him in the middle of the night. He never ever spoke of being a hero or of bravery or of being someone who stepped up to the plate. He always spoke of it as doing his "duty". He was the greatest man I've ever met, and yet the most soft spoken, most gentle person I've had the privilege to meet.
When I was 15 or 16 he and my mother bought me a single shot .22 rifle. I had been reading "Outdoor Life" and other magazines and knew "everything" about shooting. I begged my parents for a gun. Then one day my father showed up with a .22 rifle from Sears. It was a single shot, bolt action rifle and the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. He even had a box of .22 bullets to go with it. We were living in Edwardsville Ill at the time and there were miles of open land around us. We all piled into our '54 Ford station wagon and drove to a bridge outside of town. It seems to me I chambered and fired several round without hitting squat. Sticks floating down the stream beneath the bridge and small stones on the bank were all safe. Then I spotted a squirrel on a branch 50 yards from our location. I was upset because I hadn't hit anything I aimed at and told Dad the gun was "broke". He asked if he could try and of course I said sure.
He changed in front of my eyes. Instead of being "dad" who was some guy who went to work and came home to scold me for whatever Mom reported, he became "the shootist". He snapped the rifle to his shoulder, bent over, aimed, and drilled that squirrel. Holy Crap I thought. My dad is a MAN!
It was years later that he and I would hunt together, he just wasn't interested in going out there until Mom died, and only then because I badgered him.
Sorry to drivel on like this. I miss my father very much, and the memories are very dear. I thank you for the thread.
fred