Today is the anniversary of the US invasion of Iwo Jima and thus I think of my Uncle Max who was a Marine officer who hit the beaches that day and fought until the end of that bloody battle. In 1976, I went with my Dad to the ACC Tournament ( Virginia won the dang thing). Pop and Uncle Max and all their pals were drinking and horsing around, and then the Marine Color Guard walked onto the court. Uncle Max popped right up, stood ramrod straight, and didn’t move a muscle when he saw those Marines.
It made quite an impression on me. Now, I know he was likely thinking about his fallen brethren. My brother recently showed me a couple of letters, where both Dad and Uncle Max were writing to my grandfather in the aftermath of the Battle of the Bulge and Iwo Jima, each wondering if the other one was alive. What a feeling it must have been when they both realized that the other “had made it.” Uncle Max was a tall, handsome senatorial looking gent. If any of my 14 million first cousins have a pic of him, please post it. Here’s to you Uncle Max and thanks!
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