Today I remember my grandfather. Mom's Dad was a Flight Lieutenant in the RCAF in WW2. He was stationed all over the British Isles, the place he remembered best was near St Andrews where he'd walk the fairways of the world's most famous golf course at night. He piloted a Wellington bomber, his job was to take out U boats. He would tell my brother and I stories about the friendships, the horrors and the hardships. He's been gone 2 years and I think about him almost daily.
My wife's grandparents were both involved in the war effort. Her grandfather, who she never met, was a veteran of both great wars. He enlisted as a 16 or 17 year old and served in 1918 in WW1. He also served in WW2 as an army engineer, well into his forties. He died at the young age of 55. While he served in WW2, he met a lass who was a Sergeant in the British army. My father in law was born in Wimbledon, England and emigrated to Vegreville at a very young age. Granny B died just a few months ago and was buried in a military service next to her husband in Vegreville. She had been a widow, never remarrying, for 49+ years.
