Looking thought binoculars, he noticed some movement in some bushes in a far off field. Dad called in three rounds at that spot. The first exploded long and Dad said he saw a German soldier stand up out of the bushes. The guy had been taking a dump and he still had his pants down.
The second round fell short and Dad said the guy turned around. “Son,” he said, “I swear that guy looked right at me. Right at me!”
Then the third round landed, blowing the German to kingdom come. Dad said it was funny at the time, but as time passed he changed his mind.
“You know, Danny,” Dad said, “I killed a lot of people in World War Two, but that guy, he was just trying to take a s**t and I simply murdered him. I'll see his face until the day I die.”
“You know, Danny,” Dad said, “I killed a lot of people in World War Two, but that guy, he was just trying to take a s**t and I simply murdered him. I’ll see his face until the day I die.”
Good on your Dad for his ability to empathize with the humanity of an enemy performing an ordinary human task at the time that he killed him. Notwithstanding that, and with respect to your father, he didn’t murder him. He did his duty by engaging the enemy as he had been trained to do.
I understand what he is saying, I often have the same sort of qualms about what I did in Vietnam. I guess that is one more of the mutitude of reasons why we have to honor people like your Dad.