Update; I learned some things about my dad I did not know. One is that he was not fourteen when he went in as family lore told, but the ripe old age of fifteen.
He joined the Marine Corp on December 10, 1941.Three days after Pearl Harbor he and his school buddies all lined up. He served his four years, which included his part in the sixth wave at Iwo Jima (something I never knew, even amid his endless stories) and was back in civilian life at nineteen.
We are awaiting a copy of his records and I'll post more, as I know more.
I'm taking off from blogging for a few days. My dad passed away from colon cancer yesterday.
It was not a long illness; he did not know he was sick until a month ago. He was in his mid eighties and a veteran of WWII (marine). He joined up at fourteen years of age.
He was master of story telling. He told stories of his school as a boy-how back in the Ozarks, all boys were required to carry a knife to school but they weren't allowed to have any feathers on them (you could be expelled for that). If they had a gun they were suppose to bring that too, but with the action open.
He told stories of the South Pacific. When asked how many Japanese soldiers fell in sights-he just said, too many.
He told stories we all knew weren't true but we loved anyway.
Whenever we drove passed Zzyzx Road on the route from Vegas to L.A., he always told the story of how the proper pronunciation was Zachery Road (named for Zachery Taylor). It's just that the two ol' boys who discovered that road and spring didn't know how to spell Zachery. They came up with all kinds of other spellings but they all read something else or when one thought he found a good 'un the other didn't like it.
I had heard that story so many times that when I drove it alone at eighteen years old, it felt strangely quiet in that car, so I turned off the radio and told the story to myself.
Tasha Rhodes John William Adams