In October 1942, my dad, Hank Henry, joined the Marines. He served as a radio operator in the Pacific Theater – Guam, Okinawa, and Guadalcanal. Because Dad was characteristically quiet, his children did not learn until we were adults ourselves that he had only fired one shot during the war, after he thought he heard a sniper on his way to the latrine. Although he never killed anyone, he saw plenty of death. Later, he was an Armed Forces broadcaster for station XABU in Tsing Tao in Occupied China.
And much, much later, he became my dad, and then my brother's and sister's dad. When TV came along, he was told to lose his trademark mustache, because only villains wore mustaches.