I am a member of the greatest generation and am a decorated veteran of World War II. I have the Bronze Star, the Combat Infantryman’s Badge, the appropriate campaign ribbons, and assorted medals of lesser significance. For most of my adult life I considered the collection simply hokum, part of the braggadocio noncombatants created to manifest their patriotism and screen the fact that they missed the big show. In my heart I knew I was no hero. My unit, 273rd Infantry Regiment, 69th Division, had seen combat during the last three and a half months of the war. We had always outnumbered the enemy -- except for the rare counterattack -- we had absolute control of the air, our artillery was always there when needed, and though we had incurred casualties we were aware that fatalities occurred in the peaceful United States as well. Besides, most of us were in our late teens or early twenties and considered ourselves immortal.  We were destined to win the war and...(Read Full Article)