We are losing a Generation, and they are probably the best ones. Completely unique to their time and this world.

Sadly, I have noticed we are losing a generation.  Our WWII vets are dwindling, and with them, their stories. 

These men are kind, gentle, smart, respectful and grateful.  I have met no one in my travels like them. 

They are humble, caring, selfless and worried for the world they are leaving behind. 

I had on gentleman say to me "If I had known what kind of mess Canada was going to end up in, I never would have gone to war" followed by great concern and sadness over what would not be left for his grandchildren and greatgrandchildren if we keep on this path.  I almost cannot imagine anything more sad than this. 

We have let down our vetrans.  They layed their lives on the line for our freedoms and futures, left lives, loves and families behind.  Lost friends, brothers, fathers, cousins on the battlefield. 
And they are no longer proud to have done that. 

Where do we go from here?

There is a group of men from Poland.  They were captured and sent (walked) to a Russian prison camp.  There they had little food, (500grams of bread a day) harsh labor conditions.  Then when Russia needed to go defend other parts, they were let go, and walked there way to join the Free Polish Army (?) and continue on to fight across Italy, Germany, etc. 

From there they all eventually ended up here, where they spend their last days.  Many worked at the same place, some the foreman of others.  They put their differences behind them, and became, as they call themselves brothers.  There are not many of these men left.  It is sad, but they do not mind.  "I am old, no good anymore," speaking with tears for those they leave behind, but content and unwaivering that God will be taking care of them soon enough, up in Heaven.   They are good men, the best I have met, and I have no doubt they earned and very much deserve their spot up above. 

I do my best to say thank-you for fighting for our country.  A country that was not even yours yet, when you perservered through the war.  I do not think thank-you is enough, nothing could ever be.  They always shrug off my thanks, as if it were no big deal, and often say "I didn't know what I was getting myself into" or "I had nothing else to do." 

They have cool tattoos, real tattoos.  From their first or last nights in England.  Often you find two men across the hall from each other, who unknowingly got tattooed in seemingly the same shop. 

They are grateful for cold water, hospital food, a warm blanket, five minutes of conversation.  They respect you the instant you show them respect.  They go from being tough and maybe distant, to hugging you goodbye and calling you dear.  They sacrificed for us, but now are worried they are taking up to much of our time to ask to have their needs met. They are grateful, kind, humble and selfless.

They are the best men I know.