3 A.M. flashback. My Dad.
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I was 6 y.o. around 1950. My Dad was a U.S. Army infantry company commander. We (the family) were with Dad at Fort Warden, Washington while his company was getting set up and equipped to deploy to Korea. We lived in some shabby WW II "temporary" base housing. I knew most of the soldiers in his company.
One night about my bedtime the telephone rang. My Dad looked really serious. After the telephone conversation he remained quiet and changed into his dress uniform. A few minutes later the Chaplin drove up, picked up my Dad and they drove off into the night.
One of his men had been on gate dury. He had been run over and killed by a drunk driver. My Dad and the Chaplin were going to notify his wife. As a 6 year old, this was my first glimpse of the fragile nature of human life.
Rest in peace, Cpl. Rodriguez.
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