Vince Parker

Last week, I attended one of a long-running series of World War II lectures at Fort Snelling. Each gathering, an author or expert gives a presentation, followed by a panel of WWII vets who provide first-person testimony related to the evening’s topic.

I ended up sitting near Vince Parker, an 89-year-old veteran who had the youthful verve of a man half his age. He had a warm smile, and wore a brown leather, patch-covered bomber jacket I imagine has been been in his possession for 70 years.

Like many vets, he said that for decades he didn’t talk about the war. He wanted to “get on with life.” When he returned, he got married, settled down, and raised a family he is immensely proud of. But now, perhaps because so few vets are left, he talks about his experience. He was stationed in Italy, and took part in more than 40 missions. He survived one crash landing.

His eyes lit up when he talked about his old friends, and the beautiful Italian women. He explained with a twinkle in his eye that he wouldn’t have ever chased them but “they kept running away from me.”

At the end of our conversation we shook hands and he handed me his business card. I found it funny an 89-year-old man would have a business card, until I looked to see what was on it: