When I first met my wife and became her good friend(long before we married), I used to go along with her on family get togethers and whenever her mother and father had family over, Id be around alot.
Her father was much older than my father and most of our fathers.
He didnt start a family until he was in his forties.
So I listened to all the family stories for years.
I knew her father was stationed in SanAntonio texas in WWII and my wife told me the day before he was scheduled to depart for Europe and combat, someone in an army band got ill and he was a drummer and they pulled him out to join the army band. I guess it was quite a break for him.
Her grandfather, well, by the time I met him, he had lost most of his mental capabilities,(a nice way to put it), senile? Alzheimers? whatever, he was off somewhere and whenever I was around, they used to sit grandpa next to me and say, here, you talk to him.
I didnt mind, he told incredible stories about how he owned motels down south, how he built a raceway, and explained his job for the military during the world war, he just never made it clear to me who exactly he worked for.
The rest of the family would verify some of his wild stories, and I knew he worked for the military somewhere, but I never questioned the validity of his stories, they were cool and he needed a new set of ears to listen to him.
I really never minded.
I never questioned him.
then my wife pulls this document out of the boxes and boxes of old pictures we have in our attic.
I guess his stories were true.(the document is dated 1918 through 1919)