Last night a fire engine whizzed by on the road next to the front of the apartment complex . My Stomach dropped straight down on the cement: felt naseated. It has taken more of a toll than i'd orginally thought it would. It still feels that my gut is in my mouth sometimes.
I'd gone to Victoria'a Secret Semi-annual sale and for some wierd reason I could have sworn my Father was there for just a second or two just barely in my viewing point of range, althouth this time he looked about 65 or so and was ambulatory. A different father and just a mirage.

Daddy was stationed in Northern Africa in World War Two as a medic.
Tripoli.
There must be many still yet untold individual secrets left from WW11 and with so many of the men who were witnesses to them dying now, it certainly makes me wonder how many will ever come to be told.

He had once told me the British had kept the German Prisoners of War past the time that they were supposed to have been shipped back to Germany for some reason and when they were put on the ships to return. Many of the German POWS had jumped ship while my father and the other British watched without shooting to kill.
Daddy had said to me," The War was over- They were just boys like us and Tired of all the killing."
So they let them go.
Makes one wonder what came of them. The Germans who had jumped ship . Settling in the MiddleEast. Old men now. I wonder who their children were? What there grand-children are doing now?

Have we forgotten that in real War the lines between Good and Bad, Good and Evil become blurred and that Even Evil comes in many shades of grey before turning
Black.

When I was a teenager; on numerous ocassions I would have these deep and distressing conversations with my father about World War 2 and his deep belief of an upcoming World War 3 because he was concerned that our generation would forget World War 2. So there I was@ 15 or 16 promising my Father that My Generation would do better. My Generation had learned the ultimate lesson: Never Again and Never Forget.