If I have mentioned it before, please forgive my failing memory.
My grandfather was in the Navy in World War II. I knew he had brothers, but I didn't know much more than that. My dad never really talked about his aunts and uncles, and the one story he told me about his grandfather (my great-grandfather) is remarkable in its singularity.
There were four boys in my grandfather's family. At the start of World War II, three of them joined the Navy (not uncommon for farm boys from South Dakota), and one joined the Army. The Navy boys made it home. The Army boy was thought to have been killed in action in 1944 in Germany, his body was never recovered.
However, the Army has always kept searching for it's missing Soldiers, and bringing their remains home. For example, this Soldier who died in the Pacific was returned home to Florida. There's a mortuary unit who's sole job is to identify the discovered remains of US service-members and get them back home.
A little while back, they found an unmarked grave with thirteen bodies laid to rest, outside of a small German town. The mortuary unit was sent. Identification was performed. And my great-uncle will finally be laid to rest near my grandparents later this month.
I don't know what hell he went through before he died. I have had the great honor and privilege to speak to combat veterans of a few WWII campaigns, and what combat situations these men described to me sounded like hell, or at least a trek to Hell's doorstep.
So as you either go to or return from your place of worship today, please say a prayer for the soul of PFC Donald Mangan.
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