An-tee-fa? MY Dad in 1945:

[DFW]

35. I'm sure the stories are as varied as they could possibly be.

Just the stories of my father-in-law and mother-in-law are fascinating to hear.

My father-in-law, as is the case with many that experience the bloodiest combat and were gravely wounded, almost never talked about his war experiences, and only on his deathbed, in his delirium, started calling out to long-dead members of his unit who perished in the artillery barrage that left him without one of his legs. He had been drafted off his farm at age 17, returned a cripple at 19. His fondest wish was that all his grandchildren be girls so none of them would ever be involuntarily conscripted for the military--a wish fate was to grant him. Though from a traditional background, he fully approved of his son's (ultimately successful) attempt to dope himself up so completely that when he turned 18 (this was in 1974) and had to report for his draft physical, he was deemed physically unfit for military service. He said it was better that his son be stigmatized in that manner than return home one day at age 19, traumatized and with a leg blown off.

My mother-in-law was from a rural middle class family who lost 3 out of her five brothers during the war, as well as almost everything they had. She remembers hiding in ditches from strafing runs by fighter-bombers who didn't care what or who they were shooting at. She not only liked her husband-to-be when she met him, one leg and all, but also appreciated that being from a farm family, he could also bring them bread and the occasional couple of eggs.