“See here, Private Johnson!”

This proud fellow with the cocky grin, posing for a picture to send the folks back home, is my father. It was taken in a stateside Army camp in 1941 or ’42. It could be Louisiana. Or California. Or Pennsylvania. Daddy had conquered much of North America before departing for England and, eventually, northern France. He was still proud when he was discharged at the end of World War II, but the cocky grin was long gone.

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