I visited my Dad today. They polished up his headstone, and planted an American flag on each grave. I stuck some roses, a nice bunch, took pictures for the rest in the family that could not come.
Big brass words: WWII Korea Vietnam. They don't count the Cold War I guess. 62 years old when he died. Flew 8th Air Force over the Berlin week raids. Bombardier. He still had flashbacks of ME 109's coming straight at him. He flew ferret missions deep into Soviet territory. B-29's for God's sake. Then he had the calmness to drop thousands of pounds of bombs, CBU's, and other stuff all over 'Nam, Laos, and Cambodia. (Shhhh, don't tell.)
I had my genuine Australian jungle hat on that an Aussie gave me. It had a wider brim than the boonie hats we had. I gave him a snap to, and executed an up the buttons salute.
Thanks, Dad. For everything.