In 1993 my father and co-author of this book died. With his death many memories died with him. There is so much more I’d like to ask him about his life. I have sons of my own now; sons that he never knew, and I try to explain to them some of the horrors that the World War 2 generation experienced. They listen patiently, but I’m not sure that they understand just how war alters the lens, through which those who lived through it, view the world. With my father no longer alive to tell them, his written words will have to do.