My grandfather was in the 1st Infantry Division, 16th Regiment at D-Day. This would have put him at Easy Red or Fox Green. He lost so many brothers that day. He never said one word about it to anyone. He enlisted at the age of 17 with his parent's support.
He came home. Married. Had children (my mother) and was by all accounts the most depressed, recluse most have ever met. He rarely smiled. Rarely engaged. We lived in the same small town so I could literally ride my bike to their house while growing up. Not uncommon to find him at 10 am in his dark bedroom with a bottle.
Somehow, he managed to live to 84. I think he was 19 on D-Day. This means he spent roughly 65 years carrying that type of burden, sorrow, survivors guilt. It's always made me very sad.
He came home. Married. Had children (my mother) and was by all accounts the most depressed, recluse most have ever met. He rarely smiled. Rarely engaged. We lived in the same small town so I could literally ride my bike to their house while growing up. Not uncommon to find him at 10 am in his dark bedroom with a bottle.
Somehow, he managed to live to 84. I think he was 19 on D-Day. This means he spent roughly 65 years carrying that type of burden, sorrow, survivors guilt. It's always made me very sad.