What I like best of my father, is that he was a coward.
For him, it did make a sense to die for the Führer or the third Reich. So he ran away, whenever he could. He was a little Schweijk. He liked the campagne in france, but he did not like the winter in russia. He survived the bloody war with many tricks. Only 10 percent of the 1917 generation survived war. He did. And so he is the best and only father I have.
2 comments:
Welcome home Henry!
I loved all of the photos..I have been longing for Italy.
Ahh..your sweet Father's face!! Your words brought tears to my eyes!! You are a good son.
I could not drink grappa!! One try was enough for me!! :) Wine yes..grappa no!
I commented on here several times and for some reason it is not there so I hope this one makes it through.
I'll toast your Father (red wine of course).
Thank you gypsy heart. I´ll tell my father, that far away in the states someone toasted to him. And that it was a toast with red wine (-:, what he will like too!
By the way: I don´t like grappa myself!
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