With every passing day, more and more of "The Greatest Generation" passes away, and for me, days like the anniversary of D-Day always bring me back to around 2003. Why, you might ask?
Back then, I was still in college, working toward a History degree. I had a WWII class, and our end-of-semester project was to seek out a WWII vet and interview them. My family knew two: One who fought in the Pacific Theater (including Guadalcanal) and wouldn't talk to anyone about it, and another who served in the European theater and was willing to sit down with me. Ollie was his name, and he was a friend of my parents who had remarried an octogenarian friend of my mother's, named Sophie. As great a guy as Ollie was, no one knew much about his service in WWII other than the fact that he was there.
So, soon after, I found myself at Ollie and Sophie's kitchen table, having coffee and interviewing him. We talked, and it turns out that he was stationed in England at a port near or in London. He was a welder, and helped fix ships that broke down from use or in battle. His main job was to fix damaged and cracked ship propellers. During the interview, he stopped and said something I'll never forget. "Why me? Why do you care what I did over there? I'm no hero. I never shot Nazis. I just fixed propellers". I then told him that he DID matter. If it wasn't for guys like him, Allied ships wouldn't have been able to do what they did. They couldn't carry troops, seek out and destroy battle cruisers and U-Boats, and shell the enemy. I told him two more words: "Thank you."
At that point, he started crying. No one had ever thanked him for what he did. I was the 1st one, in 2003, after nearly 60 years since he came back to the US, to thank him for his service. It's a moment I will never forget until the day I die.
After that, he opened up about all sorts of stuff: what it was like to be in London at the time, the types of ships he worked on and how messed up they would be, the workload and push to get stuff fixed before what ended up being D-Day, what it was like during the German V-1 "Buzz Bomb" attacks, and how he used the skills he learned in the service to get a job when he came home. He felt proud to have served, probably for the first time in his life.
A few months after the interview, Ollie passed away. Sophie told me at his wake that after the interview, his mood had changed from a typical "cynical old man pissed at the world" to a much happier, more optimistic guy. He was at peace with himself at the end.
If you have the ability to sit down and chat with someone of that age who served, I highly suggest it.