Purple Heart

Today I met a man.
He is 88 years old. His name is Alfred. I did a service call at his home. When I pulled into the driveway, I noticed the car there had a purple heart on the license plate. Inside the home I noticed a case of medals on the mantel. "Are those your medals?" I asked. "Yes" he said, "but that's ancient history". I just looked at him in awe. He listed the medals for me...2 purple hearts, bronze stars, silver stars, European Campaign.
The hair stood up on my arms.
"I was there for D-Day, and the Battle of the Bulge". "I was shot in the belly, and again in the hip."
More hair stood up.
I am fascinated by these men. I have no love for war, and the idea of shooting someone or being shot at, holds no attraction for me whatsoever, but I still feel sometimes that I missed out on something by not serving in the military. The whole Band of Brothers thing. Even knowing practically nothing about him, Alfred is a hero to me. He survived some of the fiercest fighting the world has ever seen, and lived to tell about it. Not only that, but as far as I could tell he was a regular, happy guy, with a wife of 61 years and at least 1 loving daughter. How does someone go through that and remain sane?

I shook his hand and thanked him for what he did back then. I told him there were still plenty of people who appreciate it.