Velociworld

KILLING THE FOE

My father lied about his age, and joined the Army on his 17th birthday, to fight the cruel Hun, the savage Nip, in 1942.

His first gig was an assignment to an intelligence unit supposedly based out of Gander, Newfoundland. What they actually did was parachute into Greenland, seek out German radio huts guiding U-boats. They would toss grenades in the windows, then kick the door down and execute any survivors. Damned vicious work for a teenager. No prisoners. No accommodation for POW's. Kill them. To this day there is no record of what they did. A Freedom Of Information Act would likely release the records, but nobody gives enough of a shit to do it.

The first time the Senator saw a German was when he was on patrol, and came over a hillock. There was a Kraut, teenager like him. They both came up with the commendable idea that they hadn't seen each other, and both began backing up. This moment never happened.

Then the Senator's sergeant came over the hillock, and popped the Kraut. Head shot.

This is the only story my father ever told me about the big WWII. It haunted him mightily, I think.

They ate K rations marked 1917. Their sled dogs ate beef. So they would shoot polar bears, and feed the bear to the dogs, so they could eat the dog food.

All of this by way of saying I really crave some dogfood. I used to eat Milk Bone dog biscuits at my grandmother's, and got hooked. Good stuff. I want some Alpo, if I can get the beefy veggie mix.