I attended a funeral today. I went to pay tribute to my neighbor’s father who passed away last Saturday at the ripe old age of ninety-six.

That may sound like a long time, but it’s really not in the grand scheme of things. It’s only the blink of an eye.

He was a veteran of World War II. He drove a tank. I learned that several years ago, so I wasn’t surprised that the pastor mentioned it in his service today.

The thing is, when I first learned that fact my opinion of him elevated quite a bit. My father was a tank man, too. Daddy was a gunner.

I was young when Daddy died, and it was only after his death that I learned what a dangerous job he had.

There was a saying back-in-the-day that Sherman Tanks were nicknamed after Ronson cigarette lighters. Ronson’s slogan was “First time, Every time.” Meaning the lighters lit up the first time you struck the flint. It was the same for the Sherman Tanks. One hit and they exploded into a fireball. The mortality rate for tankers was extremely high.

Thus, my neighbor and I were fortunate our fathers survived and we were born.

It is a sad fact that most of the men and women who served in that war are gone now. More are passing away every single day, and we owe them so much.

I wish I had been aware of that when my father was alive. I should have thanked him. I wish I had.

So when I paused at the casket today, I whispered, “Thank you. Tell my daddy, too.”

They were heroes. And heroes are vanishing.

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Rick Algood
April 15, 2021