My parents had never mentioned their medals or what they did in World War II to merit medals. Yet when I delved into the trunk, I unearthed small blue boxes of medals, suggesting stories I hadn’t heard . . . yet.
I could guess what some of the medals represented. The black, red, and white medal that said “Germany” at the top had to be Dad’s. I knew he had joined a battlefield unit that pushed into Germany. I knew, as an Army doctor, he had set up a battalion aid unit in Germany toward the end of the fighting. But what about the medal with bars that read: Marksman, Carbine, Rifle, Submachine? Or the one with soldiers on front and a very large bird on the back? Was that my mother’s? I loved the medal that read: Freedom from Fear and Want, Freedom of Speech and Religion. And a Purple Heart. That one surprised me, though I had a good idea where it came from.
I knew I would never know the whole story of each medal, not until I’d read every letter in that Army trunk.
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