Dad's June 6

On June 6, 1944, my parents, one in Indianapolis, another in Chicago, were 16; they'd grown up with the war. Each lost older male friends or cousins during it. Dad, a fine athlete, had skipped a grade after moving in 1941 from Springfield, MO, to Indianapolis. Three years later, two of his friends and older high school teammates died on a Normandy beach on D-Day. Nothing ever bothered Dad, who a decade later was drafted for Korea, but June 6 always did. And he was grateful.

Below: US assault troops in an LCVP landing craft approach Omaha Beach, 6 June 194

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