James- my namesake. He hit the beaches of Guadalcanal in 1942 and fought his way across the Pacific with the 1st Marine Division.

Richard- an Uncle on my Mom's side was a pilot in the old Army Air Force flying B-24 and eventually B-29s for MacArthur out of Australia, the Philippines and Guam.

My Dad- was 16 when he joined up in 1943 and was a Flight Engineer on B-17s. He flew out of Italy and England. As he was training on B-29s, the Japanese surrendered. After the War he went to college and he and his brother James became the first men in a long line of dirt farmers to be college educated.

His ROTC commitment recalled him to active duty in 1950 for the Korean Crisis. By this time the Army was out of the bomber business and Dad was a GI. He landed at Pusan as a 2nd LT with the 2nd Infantry Division and, in coordination with the Inchon Landings, they broke out of the Pusan Pocket and drove the North Koreans out of the south.

They all had a collection of medals and ribbons but they didn't tell many stories. They weren't the sort. If you asked, they would just say they were grateful to come home in one piece.

They are gone now. The rest are leaving us all too soon. For we are a world in desperate need of adult supervision now that those titans are gone.