Let's see... My mom's father wasn't in the war, for some reason, which I've always assumed was connected to his working in the coal mines at the time. He dies of a brain tumor in 1983.
My mom's uncle, however, was on the lines in Europe during the Battle of the Bulge. He's still around, and makes me look like a moderate liberal.
My dad's dad was a mechanic and worked on bombers out near Salt Lake. They say there's a plane at the bottom of the lake that is the fault of someone on grandad's team. He died of a heart attack at 49.
My uncle was in Vietnam, Grenada, Panama, and Desert Storm. He was in MI for most of his career and retired a few years back as a Colonel.
My dad was a Marine for a short time but was medically discharged JUST before 'Nam.
Farther back, one of my ancestral relatives (not on a direct line) served as a Union Admiral during the Civil War, and his ship was known for performing dangerous rescues of other sinking ships. They named a destroyer for him, which served in WWII in both Atlantic and Pacific.
And the grandfather of the first Farquhar was a man named MacDuff... the one who killed MacBeth.
-------------------- "The best defense is not a good offense. The best defense is a terrifyingly accurate and devastatingly powerful offense, with multiply-overlapping kill zones and time-on-target artillery strikes." -- Laurence, Archangel of the Sword
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Getting more recent, my Dad served as a French translator for the Army in Indochina after completeing school at the Presidio. Since he had to fly over Vietnam to get there, he got combat time for the month in which he was flown in, and again when he was flown out (go figure).
My Uncle Bill enlisted in the Navy, and aside for a short stint on the Cone was assigned shore duty in Norfolk for his 4-year service.
My Sorta-Grandfather (as in, the dad of the guy who married my aunt) served in the Marine Corps in WWII and served in various campaigns, including Iwo Jima.
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My grandfather was a Sergeant Major in the British army. I know he was stationed in Germany at the end of the war, as my dad was born in a Brit army hospital there. My grandmother ran the NAAFI (sp?) store. A german woman wanted some basic supplies for her sons wedding and offered my nan a watch in payment for the goods. Nan agreed. The watch is platinum set with diamonds and ebony. Its worth 1000's of pounds. I don't think she realised this as she wore it at work all her life until her arhtritis got too bad. My mum almost passed out when she had it valued. My other grandad drove a tank, but I don't know where.
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Well, my maternal grandfather was a pilot in the RAF (Fighter Command) who survived the Battle of Britain and countless other escort missions deep into Nazi Germany. He has what seems like an inexhaustible amount of stories of which nobody ever grows tired - so vividly he tells them.
After the war he emigrated to the Netherlands, where he met my maternal grandmother - she was part of the local underground resistance during '43-'45, and provided shelter for a few jews (crawling through the eye of the needle on more than one occasion). She's still in regular contact with their children.
My paternal folks are more closed off... they keep their experiences adamently to themselves. I know very little about their backgrounds, but the little bits information I do have aren't pleasant - he was a slave-labourer, she a prisoner in a camp (she hasn't revealed to me which camp in particular... frankly, the truth scares the hell out of me).
[ November 06, 2001: Message edited by: Mojo Jojo ]
-------------------- ".mirrorS arE morE fuN thaN televisioN" - TEH PNIK FLAMIGNO
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Both of my grandfathers were doctors, I believe. One was on the USS Pennsylvania, and the other was on another Navy vessel. No fighting stuff, I;m afraid, but my uncle was a Paratrooper. More recently, though.
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Well, my mum's stepfather (my maternal grandfather to all intents and purposes) was onme of many British emigr�s to Brazil who joined up, being commissioned at Sandhurst then fighting throughout the war in Burma in a tank regiment. Like many Burma veterans, he'd like to dance on Errol Flynn's grave for the execrable Objective: Burma! which depicted the world's most famous Tasmanian and a handful of American troops single-handedly winniung the campaign. The fact that the reality saw some of the most bloody fighting of the war (our own Eastern Front, really) gets overlooked to this day.
My maternal grandmother's brother served in the Fleet Air Arm as a Swordfish pilot (a biplane torpedo bomber). He got too close a look at a new German anti-aircraft battery; his memorial marker is in a cemetery in France, and just this year my parents & grandparents went to visit it for the first time. His navigator survived the war in a prison camp, by the way. Her other brother was in the Merchant Marine, on civilian cargo ships.
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I have no idea. Actually, most of my friends have no idea. Tsk. British kids today, eh? No respect for the past.
If I had to guess, I'd say probably trying not to get bombed. Or something.
-------------------- Yes, you're despicable, and... and picable... and... and you're definitely, definitely despicable. How a person can get so despicable in one lifetime is beyond me. It isn't as though I haven't met a lot of people. Goodness knows it isn't that. It isn't just that... it isn't... it's... it's despicable.
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"Oh, that's right--the Battle of Britian. And other battles. You guys were actually attacked. Actually, so were we Americans, at Pearl Harbor."
Yes. We were attacked fairly frequently. We were fighting the war for 2 years before you lot decieded to turn up, y'know.
But let's not go there again. Let us celebrate, er, monkeys. And biscuits.
-------------------- Yes, you're despicable, and... and picable... and... and you're definitely, definitely despicable. How a person can get so despicable in one lifetime is beyond me. It isn't as though I haven't met a lot of people. Goodness knows it isn't that. It isn't just that... it isn't... it's... it's despicable.
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~1650 Oldest known ancestor, Francis Lindsly, immigrates to the US. He will be one of the founders of New Haven, Connecticut. ~1776 An ancestor, Colonel Lindsly, fights for the American cause in the Revolutionary War. Some of his battles are in New Jersey. (BTW, if anyone sees a street sign that says "Lindsly" as part of the name in a New Jersey city, that street is probably named after my family. It may not be a ship, but I am none the less.) ~1944 Daniel Lindsly was a recon flyer over Europe. (One of my middle names, Daniel, is in honor of my grandfather.)
The other middle name, Irving, is in honor of my maternal grandfather. His distant relatives in the Baltic States were killed in the Shoah.
quote: Omega asks: DAD? How frelling old ARE you, Kosh?
Fourty one, since August. I am the last of seven, six lived to grow up. Dad was 36 when I was born, Mom was 40. Dad died in 1997, Mom is still alive (81), and well enough. There is 7 years between me and the next one up. The one that died young was twenty months older them I was. I guess I'm the last of the generation born to WW2 vets in the USA, and at the extreme end at that.
(edit) I just saw Sigs post. So maybe I'm not in the last generation after all. I know he's younger then I am.
[ November 07, 2001: Message edited by: Kosh ]
-------------------- Sparky:: Think! Question Authority, Authoritatively. “Believe nothing of what you hear, and only half of what you see.” EMSparks
Shalamar: To save face, keep lower half shut.
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posted
Someone here is older than me? That's not FAIR! I wanted to be the old grouch!
-------------------- "The best defense is not a good offense. The best defense is a terrifyingly accurate and devastatingly powerful offense, with multiply-overlapping kill zones and time-on-target artillery strikes." -- Laurence, Archangel of the Sword
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none the less.)
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