This is a picture of my father, Ronald Sherer. I don't know the date this was taken, but he served in the Army from 1942 to 1946 working with explosives.
I remember his stories about the war. He knew a lot about blowing things up. Once, while watching an episode of "Hogan's Heroes" where they were disarming a land-mine, I commented "Dad, that can't be right. How could the allies have such detailed instructions on which wire to cut?" Dad said "They use POWs to try to disarm a mine, and if the German prisoner cuts the wrong wire, they know the right one for next time."
I never found out if he was serious, but I didn't feel the same smug superiority about US vs THEM anymore. I didn't care that much for Hogan's Heroes anymore either.
Dad died from a heart-attack in December 1988. He never met his granddaughter, Ashton. But he dearly loved his grandson, Alex.
I still miss him.