My father-in-law was always proud to talk about his service on an aircraft carrier in the Pacific during World War II. He set foot on the hallowed grounds of Bougainville and Guadalcanal and other celebrated landmarks of that region and that era. His stories of that time were rich and spellbinding. For example, once on one of those island duty outposts, an air raid siren sounded at night. He ran from his tent to report to his assigned duty station. When the emergency was over, he returned to the place where his tent had been to find not a tent but a smoldering crater. In such moments, men contemplate the Almighty! And he was ever a man of great faith. Thank God for the siren, or I may have been deprived of my Sarah Ann.
Like most of that generation, he’s passed on from us, but we ever owe his generation a debt of gratitude.
So on this Veterans Day weekend, we raise a toast to your memory, PaPaw Morris–We thank you for your service. Our supreme regret is that you’re still not here.