Thanks for the kind words, one and all...my uncle (and godfather) was one of that fast disappearing 'greatest generation'. After the ceremony I spoke at length with some of my father's cousins: three brothers who I just learned had served, were decorated, and made it back. When I asked them about the war they laughed off most of their exploits, saying they were just 'crazy kids' at the time, but between the stories I noticed the pauses where they would quietly stare at nothing in particular for a couple minutes. Could have just been old-age, but the thought I had at the time was that they were probably looking at memories of events that would have left me curled up in a ball and p*ssing myself. As I looked at them I didn't see old men, I saw three people who you'd want with you when everything around was coming apart.
When I was saying goodbye to the middle brother (Frank, a navy landing craft driver in the Pacific) I was determined to let him know I understood a little of what they went through; I thanked him for the stories and told him they were giants in my eyes.