A good friend of mine sent me the following article from the Palm Beach Post on his father's experiences after the D-Day invasion at Normandy in June 1944. It's absolutely mind blowing what his generation went through, and my friend has told me that his father, Morris Kantor, was unable to tell his family what he experienced during the war for many, many years. I'm particularly grateful for the service of men like Morris Kantor, because I wouldn't be writing this today if he hadn't put his life on the line all those years ago:
Then came Dec. 16, the surprise attack by the Germans and the Battle of the Bulge, the largest single conflagration of the war. The Nazis alone poured in 500,000 troops, including many tanks.
Kantor was a radioman working with a forward spotter for artillery batteries.
"At 5 a.m. the skies opened up and everything was blowing up around us," he says of the Nazi artillery barrage. "They were firing lots of flares, too, so they could see us."
Kantor and his colleagues were forced to retreat, but in doing so left behind a map. Kantor volunteered to go back for it. In the process he took a bullet through his helmet and helped save a wounded man, for which he was awarded the Bronze Star. But he sees nothing heroic in his actions.
"I was just lucky to get out of there alive," he says.
The 99th, vastly outgunned and outmanned, was overrun.
(photo by bluegrassboy123)