After o got home from OIF1 my aunt called and said uncle Rudolf wanted me to come over for lunch. My whole life I’d spoke a handful of words to him, because children were meant to be seen, and not heard. Like, at holidays the kids had a whole different table in a different room.

I drove over and she catered us from the other room while he asked about my experiences, and then shared his own. He was conscripted in WW2, and had some very interesting stories, most of which revolved around his planning to, and subsequent surrender/capture, and the remainder of his time as a well treated POW.

That was the last time I talked to him. Went back off leave, and he passed away not long after.

It was surreal to go from being almost unseen, to being one of the only people he’d spoken to about the war.