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4gasem
Well-Known Member
Thank you Major Winters for all you did to allow us to live in this free country of ours.
Gone but never forgotten.
Chris
Gone but never forgotten.
Chris
texmax
Well-Known Member
Salute, RIP sir.
Redbone
Well-Known Member
The good Lord has brought another good one home, bless you Major Winters!
Sad to see these boys go. They did so much for us. For all they did, and some are pizz'n our country, our sovereignty, away.
Both my dad's in my life fought hard in Europe and the Pacific. When I worked in the oil field, I ran into many of these guys there. A lot of these guys went to work in h efields after WWII. I met a B-17 top turrent gunner, many from the 3rd Army. I worked with one of Patton's Ghost Troops, Oscar. Old fart never got married. He gossiped like an old woman, but we loved him to death.
This reminds me of one neat thing that happened to me. A month before I got out of uniform, while driving home, I came over a hump in the 4 lane highway to have a smoking, Chevy pick up stalled in the middle of the lanes. Two cars ahead of me just missed it. I hit the brakes and went around on the left, seeing an old man with a hat on inside, smoking. I pulled over and ran back, watching a couple more cars just missing the truck. I opened the door to see the guy was cracking the engine. I could smell that the engine was fried. I finally got him to understand what I wanted to do and pushed him off to the side. He almost ran into the back of my car.
While looking at the engine, and having to keep the man from walking out into traffic, he kept asking if I were in the mil and kept stating he was a retired Sergent Major. Knowing that he wasn't all there, I took that with a gain of salt and kept trying to find out where he came from. He would always point to the southeast, away from Kansas City. Finally, after multiple questions, I asked the right one. The man knew his phone number. I pulled out my cell and started pressing buttons. When a woman answered, I asked if she knew a guy named Mac. With a relieved voice, she stated that was her husband. She wanted to know where he was, and I told her. Turned out, he was suppose to go to the bank and back, two to three hours ago, in K.C. Poor guy had old timers. She told me her son, his wife and her would be on the way. He was about 70 miles out of the way to the bank. I took the man to my house. He would of walked out into the traffic. He didn't sense the danger. The sad thing, I could tell he was frustrated and extremely disappointed that he couldn't answer my questions. He was hurt, I could tell.
At the house, Mac wanted to smoke. I told him we didn't in the house. Everytime he wanted to light up, he remembered to go outside during his stay. He would chain smoke two in a row, fire boxing them both. While sitting and talking, he would always bring up that he was a Sergent Major. Finally, he brought out his billfold and pulled his retirement card out, which stated 'CSM', Command Sergent Major. Totally threw me. Forgetting he would tell me, he would bring up battles, most the same, over and over. I was able to hear it from one who was there, and would talk about it. I imagine his 'state' allowed him to tell me. My dads would tell me little. One most memorable that Mac told me was when he hit Omaha, 6 hrs in. He and his bud were laying on the beach when a sniper took his friend out, right through the helmet. He said he couldn't get over the red beach, the small trails of red water heading back towards the channel. He explicitly explained it as though he was just in these battles.
When his family arrived three hrs later, Mac's wife apologized for the trouble. I told her she didn't know what it meant for me to see him, that he was welcome in my house anytime.
These greats were the main reason I stayed in uniform, for them. Meeting this man was a fitting end for me in uniform. A month after this, the family sent me a thank you card and a hundred dollar bill.
Both my dad's in my life fought hard in Europe and the Pacific. When I worked in the oil field, I ran into many of these guys there. A lot of these guys went to work in h efields after WWII. I met a B-17 top turrent gunner, many from the 3rd Army. I worked with one of Patton's Ghost Troops, Oscar. Old fart never got married. He gossiped like an old woman, but we loved him to death.
This reminds me of one neat thing that happened to me. A month before I got out of uniform, while driving home, I came over a hump in the 4 lane highway to have a smoking, Chevy pick up stalled in the middle of the lanes. Two cars ahead of me just missed it. I hit the brakes and went around on the left, seeing an old man with a hat on inside, smoking. I pulled over and ran back, watching a couple more cars just missing the truck. I opened the door to see the guy was cracking the engine. I could smell that the engine was fried. I finally got him to understand what I wanted to do and pushed him off to the side. He almost ran into the back of my car.
While looking at the engine, and having to keep the man from walking out into traffic, he kept asking if I were in the mil and kept stating he was a retired Sergent Major. Knowing that he wasn't all there, I took that with a gain of salt and kept trying to find out where he came from. He would always point to the southeast, away from Kansas City. Finally, after multiple questions, I asked the right one. The man knew his phone number. I pulled out my cell and started pressing buttons. When a woman answered, I asked if she knew a guy named Mac. With a relieved voice, she stated that was her husband. She wanted to know where he was, and I told her. Turned out, he was suppose to go to the bank and back, two to three hours ago, in K.C. Poor guy had old timers. She told me her son, his wife and her would be on the way. He was about 70 miles out of the way to the bank. I took the man to my house. He would of walked out into the traffic. He didn't sense the danger. The sad thing, I could tell he was frustrated and extremely disappointed that he couldn't answer my questions. He was hurt, I could tell.
At the house, Mac wanted to smoke. I told him we didn't in the house. Everytime he wanted to light up, he remembered to go outside during his stay. He would chain smoke two in a row, fire boxing them both. While sitting and talking, he would always bring up that he was a Sergent Major. Finally, he brought out his billfold and pulled his retirement card out, which stated 'CSM', Command Sergent Major. Totally threw me. Forgetting he would tell me, he would bring up battles, most the same, over and over. I was able to hear it from one who was there, and would talk about it. I imagine his 'state' allowed him to tell me. My dads would tell me little. One most memorable that Mac told me was when he hit Omaha, 6 hrs in. He and his bud were laying on the beach when a sniper took his friend out, right through the helmet. He said he couldn't get over the red beach, the small trails of red water heading back towards the channel. He explicitly explained it as though he was just in these battles.
When his family arrived three hrs later, Mac's wife apologized for the trouble. I told her she didn't know what it meant for me to see him, that he was welcome in my house anytime.
These greats were the main reason I stayed in uniform, for them. Meeting this man was a fitting end for me in uniform. A month after this, the family sent me a thank you card and a hundred dollar bill.
Rollie
Well-Known Member
Rest in peace Major , we know your're in heaven 'cause you've already been to hell.
Hoo rah
Hoo rah
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