My Grandfather served with the Canadian forces in WW2 as an anti-aircraft gunner, and was injured by a bomb blast while listening to a baseball game on the radio with his friends. He was the only one to make it out of the truck alive, and became a Military Policeman after the injury. He served in Italy, France and the Netherlands.
He once told me that everyone must know the true scope of the horrors of the war. The Military Police, and he himself, were amongst those that helped to try and bring order and peace to the concentration camps scattered across Europe. He made sure that we knew that the deniers were wrong, that he once stood next to a pile of skulls that was taller than he was.
Thank you to my daughter for helping me to take this shot. She will be told what I was told when she is old enough. My Grandfather's words will not die with me, or with her, or with her children.
Lest we forget.
No comments:
Post a Comment