As a young man, he fought in WWII. I chuckle as I write this because if you were to sit and talk with him, it wouldn't take long for the conversation to turn to the war. My sister and I joke when we talk of visiting him and say that we aren't visiting north Alabama, we are visiting the South Pacific! Maybe it's his old age, maybe it's the nostalgia for him, I'm not sure, but this man loves to talk about his service in the Army Air Corp. (He's quick to tell you that there wasn't an Air Force back then.) He was a member of the Thirsty 13th, a troop carrier squadron. His work was not glamorous or even noteworthy, but he served his country with heart. I remember the first time he explained to me what "thirsty 13th" meant. I was probably 15 or so and he was telling me again all about the war. He stopped in mid sentence and asked, "You know what thirsty 13th means, right?" I just laughed and replied, "I'm pretty sure it doesn't refer to milk!" I still remember the sound of his laugh and my grandmother's giggle from the other room. You have to understand something: my grandfather married a preacher's daughter. A Southern Baptist preacher's daughter. I've never seen either of them drink alcohol. Never. So to have him admit that he was a member of such a group of rebels was histerical to me at age 15.
Recently, a man named Seth Washburne wrote a book about this squadron and their service. My grandfather spent several hours talking with the author, giving him story after story and detail after detail of the squadron's daily routines, barricks, supply drops, etc. I am so excited that someone has taken the time to document this part of my grandfather's life. This book, The Thirsty 13th, describes in detail part of what made my grandfather the man he is today. I ordered a copy for myself. I plan to have my granddaddy autograph it for me. He is a true hero.
This is my granddaddy with Mr. Washburne, the author of The Thirsty 13th.
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