My grandfather told this story about how he inadvertently became General Patton’s scotch supplier during the war. He and a friend commandeered a mortuary affairs truck and filled it to the brim with Johnny Walker Red. One evening, close to the end of the war, they’re in Germany hanging out at a makeshift Officer’s Club getting a little sloppy. A voice behind him suddenly booms,

“Hey boys, where can a fella get some of that Johnny Walker Red!?”

My grandfather doesn’t even look, but just mutters, “well that depends on who you are.” Suddenly everyone at the table stands and salutes, while he turns around to find himself staring at the waist of a man carrying an ivory handled Colt revolver. Grandad was quick-witted though, so he bargained with Patton for tennis rackets and balls for his men to get some R&R when they weren’t fighting.

All that to say, Dan, reading this story was like sitting in his den hearing that story again. It made me feel close to him, even though it was your grandad. Like your grandfather he started slipping towards the end of his life with early onset Alzheimer's. But this piece made me smile at his memory, and miss him. Thanks for sharing such a beautiful memory with all of us.

Storyteller | Combat wounded veteran | Metalhead | Designer | Bleeding on a page just makes it more authentic:

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