A few days ago I crashed into a neighborhood

World War 2 Documentary A few days ago I crashed into a neighborhood supermarket parking area. As I was searching for a spot to stop I saw an auto with a vet's plate. It was a world war 2 survivor plate.

I served time in the United States Army and seeing that plate implied a ton to me. I pondered who it could have a place with. I thought how awesome it would be to chat with somebody who had really been there. To hear some of what he or she may have experienced. Not for the fervor, but rather for the history and the genuine realities.

I looked the store as I did my shopping and couldn't figure out which of the more seasoned men of their word it may be. I realized that it would need to be somebody in their 80's however which one.As I got to the check stand and began my look at I recognized an elderly man of his word wearing a top that had the answer in that spot on the front of it. It said in striking letters, Survivor WW2.

I had found the man I was searching for. In any case, he had officially completed his look at and was setting out toward the entryway. As fast as I might I be able to completed the process of looking at, paid and went for the entryway.

In the parking area I searched all over the place for the noble man or his auto. Past the point of no return, I had missed him. Presently I may never have the chance to converse with him, however I will dependably be vigilant for the auto he drove and a second chance to shake the hand of a saint.

In the event that I ever see him again I will do whatever I can to make his associate and appreciate a discussion with the man who was there. Somebody who had really pushed back his own fears and contended energetically for a nation he cherished. Somebody who may have taken a projectile with the goal that I could have a sheltered spot to live and call home.

Who knows, this man of honor may have been in a POW camp or injured and lay in agony with the trepidation of death hanging over him. In any case, despite everything he survived and gave us the rights we underestimate today.

I need to think about what number of his own companions did not make it back to the friends and family they abandoned for the chance to protect the nation we as a whole love. What number of companions he may have held the hand of as he watched them take their final gasp.

What number of tears did this refined man shed amid his fight for survival and the rights to flexibility.

There are relatively few of those valiant warriors left yet to the individuals who remain I salute and offer my a debt of gratitude is in order for work well done. That silver haired old warrior is my sort of legend. The man I might want to meet.

I realize that he drives a more seasoned dim blue Mercedes and is in the town of Coos Bay, Oregon. On the off chance that anybody knows him drop me a note.