My grandfather didn't talk a lot about his experience in World War II. Dad said it was because Grandpop didn't want to think about some of the things he'd seen.
It wasn't until a few months before his death that he really opened up about what happened to him in Europe from 1944 to 1946. Through piecing together the stories he told, sending away for his service documents and lots of research, my father and uncles put together some of his story.
Charlie Breidenbach enlisted in the Army when he was 20 years old, in December of 1943. Eight months later, he was on a boat to Europe with the 95th Infantry Division, with later became known as "The Iron Men of Metz."
He fought with the 378th Infantry Regiment in the Battle of Metz as part of Patton's Third Army, helping to liberate the deeply fortified city of Metz in a brutal, three month battle. His unit earned the Presidential Unit Citation from President Harry Truman.
Grandpop was captured by German forces while on a patrol. He freed himself and his battle buddies by using his boot knife to stab the German guard, earning a Bronze Star for his actions.
He was also wounded in battle twice: shot in the wrist in Semecourt, France in 1944, and later taking shrapnel in his knee when a fragmentation grenade exploded, earning him two Purple Hearts.
Many of his stories were simply mental snapshots: carrying a wounded friend to safety; discovering that a German sniper was a woman after shooting her out of a window, when her long blonde hair fell out of her helmet.
We also have a few real snapshots from the war: Grandpop at a London hospital, with the caption stating that he had lost 55 pounds; Grandpop after the war ended, posing with a French family in his Class A uniform.
After the war, he returned home, started a new job and eventually opened up his own bicycle shop in the 1950s. He met my grandmother, and they married and had five children. But he was forever changed. He was in and out of the veterans' hospital for years.
But more than that, he was haunted by memories.
"My dad survived the war physically, but he didn't really survive the war. He struggled with some of the things that happened, with some of the things he saw and some of the things he did," my father said. "He carried a lot of not only physical scars, but emotional scars."
Not every veteran suffers the same way that my grandfather did, but they all pay a price for serving our country -- for leaving the comforts of home to protect the people they love.
All veterans sacrifice something. My grandfather wasn't killed in World War II, but he gave up his innocence, and he faced the reality of death in a way that most people will never have to.
"I'm thankful that my dad served," my father said. "I think he would have done it again. Even though he had the physical and mental anguish that went with it, he would have done it over again because he loved this country."
At Grandpop's funeral, a gentleman about his age that none of us knew solemnly approached his casket, rendered a salute, and walked out. It left an indelible mark on my dad.
"When guys serve together in a combat situation -- when life is on the line -- there is a bond there," Dad said. "When you lose a brother, you take the time to go to the funeral and give him one last salute."
Today, whenever my dad encounters veterans, he thanks them for their service.
He learned from his father the importance of honoring those who served. And I learned it from him.
This Veterans Day, and throughout the year, make a point to thank a veteran. Thank them for what they gave up so that we could live in freedom. Thank them for their service, and also for their sacrifices, both the tangible ones and the deeper, unseen sacrifices that sometimes mean the most.
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