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Remembrance
Detonating artillery shells falling on Dunkirk echoed in the distance. It was late May, 1940, my father was only eleven years old. He was in a small restaurant with my grandfather, the two of them perplexed by the French soldier sitting next to them having a feast. The soldier's meal was lavish, far in excess of what virtually all Europeans were used to in those days of rationing.
My grandfather struck up conversation with the soldier. "Excuse me, but you are using up all your ration coupons on this one meal. What will you eat later if you spend them all like this?
The soldier smiled forlornly and explained, "Tomorrow the Germans will attack."
He would have no further use for his coupons. He had no intention of retreat. This was his last supper.
For that soldier who died protecting my father and all the rest of us. For all the others I could never begin to name or even know of. For all those who stand the wall. Thank you.
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