Meu Deus, not a
donkey...
My late father was in the British Merchant Marine 1941-52. He didn't attend reunions because so few of his friends survived. It's one thing to be in a Navy during wartime, but quite another to be unable to fire back. It strikes me as the harder job, really.
The funny thing was that at the age of 16, he thought joining the Merchant Marine was a good alternative to getting bombed in London, as he and his mother had already been made homeless twice. I have a 15 1/2 year old nephew, and the idea of this kid making those kind of decision fills me with amazement.
Oh, and Alex? My father got his Rose and
Anchor tattoo in Lisbon at 17, apparently to commemorate an event I will refrain from specifying in a Fred-monitored thread.
Needless to say, he liked Portugal from that point on.