My Dad, Louis Harold Greiner was born in February  1919 in Detroit, Michigan. He was one of  two sons of a tool and dye maker involved in the industrialization of the North East Auto industry. His older bother Richard was also a WW2 veteran.

During his life, my Dad accomplished a great deal. He attended Niagara University in Niagara Falls, NY, graduating Cum Laude in Accounting. After college he became an Army Air Corps officer and served in WW2 as a Navigator on a B-24 Liberator. He  was assigned to the 467th Bomber Group in England and he flew 36 bombing runs over Germany and North Africa. He earned six Air Medals and the Distinguished Flying Cross for "meritorious achievement in aerial combat". Many times on these missions he faced withering anti aircraft fire and his aircraft was often hit. On one mission his parachute was ripped apart by enemy flack. He survived freezing temperatures at high altitudes, sustained frost bitten toes, and survived. He was one of the lucky ones who came home to talk about it. He married my mother, Betty, and with her had seven children. Dad was a great provider and hard worker. He somehow managed to keep the family afloat through some difficult times. He was a devoted father and husband and a brave and honorable man.

As I look back I see so many missed opportunities to really sit and listen to him as he spoke about the war and his service. So many times I sat half listening over coffee as he talked about the missions he flew, his buddies that flew with him, and how so many of those B-24 Liberators never made it back to base. He'd show me the flight logs and I was amazed at how many of those aircraft went down and how many crews were lost and how so many had to ditch in the English Channel just as they were about to reach safety.

As a Vietnam vet I could relate with him about dangerous missions, camaraderie, and losing friends but what I didn't think about when my Dad related these stories was the vital nature of the missions they flew. They did not simply do tours. This was not a war of choice, like Vietnam, one thought up by well meaning politicians in Washington. There was no R&R, or safe haven from the threat of Nazi Germany or the Japanese Empire. There was no great national debate about whether or not Nazism or Fascism were threats to America. We, like all of Europe were under attack. Our way of life, our very existence was being threatened. Those serving in the military and indeed all citizens were in it to the end which for them only had one acceptable outcome; total victory. They were confronted with a threat to the existence of our country, our freedom, and the security of many generations to come. My Dad, and the men and women like him never questioned what they must do. They just did it. They are all heroes. They would not tell you that, but they are. 

My Dad is gone now. And, as I think about him I wish I would have listened to him more intently. I wish I could tell him how much I appreciate the sacrifices he made and I realize the dangers he faced daily in doing his job. I wish I could hug him and thank him and let him know I understand that because of him and millions like him, my children and I live in freedom and security in the greatest nation on this earth. 

The Greatest Generation of Americans

Won't Be Long And They Will Be Gone

CPT. Stephen R. Ellison, M.D  

Passing of a Generation Won't Be Long And They Will Be Gone, from a Military Doctor

I am a doctor specializing in the Emergency Departments of the only two military Level One-trauma centers, both in San Antonio, TX and  they care for civilian Emergencies as well as military personnel.
 
San Antonio has the largest military retiree population in the world  living here As a military doctor, I work long hours and the pay is  less than glamorous.  One tends to become jaded by the long hours, lack of sleep, food, amily contact and the endless parade of human suffering passing  before you.  The arrival of another ambulance does not mean more pay, only more work.

Most often, it is a victim from a motor vehicle crash. Often it is a  person of dubious character who has been shot or stabbed. With our  large military retiree population, it is often a nursing home patient.   (continued at the top of next column)
 

Even with my enlisted service and minimal combat experience in Panama, I have caught myself groaning when the ambulance brought in  yet another sick, elderly person from one of the local retirement  centers that cater to military retirees. I had not stopped to think of what citizens of this age group represented.

I saw "Saving Private Ryan." I was touched deeply. Not so much by the  carnage, but by the sacrifices of so many. I was touched most by the  scene of the elderly survivor at the graveside, asking his wife if  he'd been a good man. I realized that I had seen these same men and women coming through my Emergency Dept. and had not realized what  magnificent sacrifices they had made. The things they did for me and everyone else that has lived on this planet since the end of that conflict are priceless.

Situation permitting, I now try to ask my patients about their  experiences. They would never bring up the subject without the  inquiry. I have been privileged to an amazing array of experiences,  recounted in the brief minutes allowed in an Emergency Dept. encounter. These experiences have revealed the incredible individuals  I have had the honor of serving in a medical capacity, many on their last admission to the hospital.

There was a frail, elderly woman who reassured my young enlisted medic, trying to start an IV line in her arm. She remained calm and poised, despite her illness and the multiple needle-sticks into her fragile veins. She was what we call a "hard stick." As the medic made another attempt, I noticed a number tattooed across her forearm.  I touched it with one finger and looked into her eyes.  She simply said, "Auschwitz."  Many of later generations would have loudly and openly berated the young medic in his many attempts. How different was the response from this person who'd seen unspeakable suffering.

Also, there was this long retired Colonel, who as a young officer had parachuted from his burning plane over a Pacific Island held by the Japanese. Now an octogenarian, his head cut in a fall at home where he lived alone. His CT scan and suturing had been delayed until after midnight by the usual parade of high priority ambulance patients. Still spry for his age, he asked to use the phone to call a taxi, to take him home, then he realized his ambulance had brought him without  his wallet. He asked if he could use the phone to make a long distance call to his daughter who lived 7 miles away. With great pride we told him that he could not, as he'd done enough for his country and the least we could do was get him a taxi home, even if we had to pay for it ourselves.  My only regret was that my shift wouldn't end for several hours, and I couldn't drive him myself.

I was there the night MSgt. Roy Benavidez came through the Emergency Dept. for the last time. He was very sick. I was not the doctor taking care of him, but I walked to his bedside and took his hand. I said nothing. He was so sick, he didn't know I was there. I'd read his Congressional Medal of Honor citation and wanted to shake his hand. He died a few days later.
 
The gentleman who served with Merrill's Marauders, the survivor of the Bataan Death March, the survivor of Omaha Beach, the 101 year old World War I veteran, the former POW held in frozen North Korea, the former Special Forces medic - now with non-operable liver cancer, the former Viet Nam Corps Commander.  I remember these citizens.
 
I may still groan when yet another ambulance comes in, but now I am much more aware of what an honor it is to serve these particular men and women. I have seen a Congress who would turn their back on these individuals who've sacrificed so much to protect our liberty. I see later generations that seem to be totally engrossed in abusing these same liberties, won with such sacrifice. It has become my personal endeavor to make the nurses and young enlisted medics aware of these amazing individuals when I encounter them in our Emergency Dept. Their response to these particular citizens has made Me think that perhaps all is not lost in the next generation.

My experiences have solidified my belief that we are losing an incredible generation, and this nation knows not what it is losing. Our uncaring government and ungrateful civilian populace should all take note.  We should all remember that we must "Earn this."