It was on December 7th, 1941 that 353 Japanese bombers attacked

[DFW]

13. I knew veterans on both sides of that war.

I think of how two of them grew up--one a Harvard student who had to graduate early in order to make his draft notice, the other a farmer drafted as cannon fodder into the Wehrmacht at age 17, and sent to die at Stalingrad. Each was told that what they were doing was to defend their country's safety and its future. It's amazing that two soldiers on opposing sides became friends and saw their children marry and make the families into one big one.

Had they been deployed under different circumstances, they might not even have spoken to each other. Fate tells a different story every time.

Hermann Göring, one of Hitler's closest pals and boss of his Luftwaffe, was frank in an interview in his cell at Nürnberg: "“Why of course the people don't want war. Why should some poor slob on a farm want to risk his life in a war when the best he can get out of it is to come back to his farm in one piece?" My father-in-law WAS that "slob on a farm." He didn't want any part of war, and he did NOT come back to his farm in one piece.

It's always easier to talk of nations, armies and events than it is of individual stories. They are often so shocking and horrible that some of those affected bury their memories somewhere deep and inaccessible, because their lives would be unlivable if they didn't.