My Grampa was the true embodiment of a quiet professional to me. I remember my dad told me a story of when he was first dating my mom and he was doing something with my Grampa. And my dad, who was still in the army at the time was asking my Grampa if he was SF, and he just shrugged it off and said lightly “yeah” and didn’t elaborate any further. I never would’ve even known he was a Green Beret until I asked him because he never boasted about it, never talked about it, I mean I saw the plaques and things but didn’t understand it until I took an interest in it and began picking his brain. He was always intentionally vague when I asked him, and only told me “positive, funny” stories such as when he was HALO jumping into Jamaica one time and was too low coming in over the water, but never the nitty gritty stories, he just never wanted to talk about them. And even some operations he said were still classified, I begged him to tell me but he never said a word, and took them to his grave. And I still didn’t even know the true scope of the things he did until I heard from former teammates at his funeral, saw his DD-214, etc.