Veterans Day, Part II

My grandfather, on my father's side, served in World War I.

My grandfather's name was Verto Alley.

He was born on March 13th, 1896, and passed away at the age of 82 years, 7 months, 21 days, on November 4th, 1978.

My father told me, even now, that his goal was to at least match the number of years on this planet by his father.

My Dad has survived any number of operations and, despite them, turned 87 this year. He has managed to survive his own father by 5 years.

As far as he is concerned, according to what he told me, everything past 82 is gravy.

In 1917, Verto was just 21 years old. Before that, he attended the Kansas City School of Law in 1914 at the age of 18.

Despite the potential of his attending law school, and his passing of high school at a remarkably young age, he served in World War I.

The photo at the right is what he carried during the war, of his then-girlfriend and later his wife, Kay Johns.

How glamorous and romantic is that?

That would be like pilots carrying photos of their girlfriends covering certain instruments on each flight they mastered.

On the earth, "ground-pounders" carried photos of their gals in the liners of their helmets.

Navy pilots carried their gals in their cockpits.

This specific photo carried my grandfather through World War I.

I knew my Grandmother as Katherine. I see that Verto called her Katy.

He did whatever it took to get him through.

He survived the war, married Katy, and my father was the result plus two uncles:

Richard: my father;

Bill: the youngest (and went down on the carrier Yorktown during WWII);

Jim: still lives in Highland Park, TX today.

There will be another post.

BZ