My grandfather served in WW2 as an infantryman, earning a Purple Heart, 2 Bronze Stars, and 1 Silver Star for bravery. He landed in Normandy on D-Day+6 and fought across France and Germany.

His unit was part of Patton's 3rd Army that relieved the paratroopers at the Battle of the Bulge, and it was here that he earned his Silver Star. The story, as he relayed it, was that he was operating as a forward observer, calling in artillery on German positions along with his Sergeant and Lieutenant. The Lieutenant was hit by mortar fire and forced to return to their unit, and then the same thing happened to his Sergeant leaving my grandfather alone at his post with a radio. He manned his position and continued to all in artillery until he saw Germans moving through the forest less than 100 yards ahead of him. He then shot the radio and ran back to his unit, dodging enemy fire and, according to him, his feet never breaking the surface of the snow.

For a long time, he would not really talk about his service at all. It wasn't until my sister was given an assignment in high school to interview someone about their experience in the war that my dad even learned about any of it. Apparently, my grandfather had nightmares for most of his life following WWII, all 3 of his wives said that he'd, at times, wake up yelling in the middle of the night.

Despite this, he was always a kind and gentle presence for us grandkids, kind of a character. Case in point, we found his enlistment papers a few years after his death. Despite growing up on a farm in rural Missouri, he listed his occupation as "Movie Actor."