A neighbor of mine, Mr. Fulford, passed away over the weekend. He was in his 90's and had been in fair health for his age. He was a member of the 82nd Combat Engineer Battalion and landed at Normandy June 17, 1944. He fought through St.Lo, France and on to the end of the war. He told a funny story to me once. He said they had their trucks parked in a line down a road when a US fighter plane came over chasing a German fighter at low altitude. The US plane's bullets were hitting all around them as he flew over in pursuit of the enemy. Mr Fulford had been cleaning his rifle but dove under a truck when the lead started flying. When he came out he said he was looking all around on the ground and in the truck. His buddy asked, what are you looking for? He said. The bolt to my rifle. His buddy said, your holding it in your hand. He said he had been so shook up that he didn't even realize he was still holding it.
I will miss him and his stories.
I will miss him and his stories.
