A Letter Written by My Father

Since I lost my father in 1960 when I was 12 years old, this letter is one of my most prized possessions. It tells me as much, if not more, about the man I try to honor and emulate every day. A little background on the letter is probably in order. My father, born in...

OK, Move Out!

I joined the outfit before St. Vith. Leaving St. Vith, came the first taste of long hand-carrying jaunts over the steep and snowy trails. This was my first taste of the woods and it was far from the last. As we made the long marches, loaded down with heavy machine-gun...