You may be thankful that twenty years from now when you are sitting by the fireplace with your grandson on your knee and he asks you what you did in the great World War II, you WON’T have to cough, shift him to the other knee and say, “Well, your Granddaddy shoveled sh– in Louisiana.” No, Sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say, “Son, your Granddaddy rode with the Great Third Army and a Son-of-a-G——ed-B—-h named Georgie Patton!”
General Patton, Speech to troops of the Third Army (1944)
My father never talked about his wartime experience, some under the command of Patton, though late in his life you could pull some of it out of him. I remember him flinching when we as children shot firecrackers. I will always recall the comment he made when I as an idiot young man (some would say the only difference now is age) commented favorably on the prospects of going to Vietnam. That comment was: “You don’t know what you’re talking about “. Further he said not.