Six or seven years ago, I can’t remember exactly when, I sat one rainy winter morning with an aging Marshall Goree and we talked about what was then the rage, “The Greatest Generation.” My bent was that Tom Brokaw’s book had just enlightened so many of us “baby boomers” to the magnificent life we’d been given and “Mr. Goree” was of the “givers.” He was also one of World War II’s biggest heroes.

He had earned both the Bronze Star and the Silver Star in the bloodiest fighting of all, a horrific hell-on-earth called “The Battle of the Bulge.” He had fought bravely and fiercely and tirelessly through the heavily-forested Ardennes Mountains region of Belgium and Germany, and, as was his way, he quickly told several funny stories like he used to share with his golfing buddies.

But after about 45 minutes or so, we got past all of that and he talked about the freezing snow, going for weeks without a shower, the machine guns, the hunger and the mud. We talked about so many of his friends who were among the 19,000 killed in December of 1944. He also let me in on a secret that he took to his grave last week when a large crowd of those who loved him buried Mr. Goree at Forest Hills cemetery.

“I don’t know how many men I really killed, but I think of them almost every day.”

It was a startling admission for me because he had always “glossed it” for us kids growing up but, in reality, there is nothing funny about war, nothing funny at all. The truth is that he, and millions of other noble men across our country, would have given anything instead of being forced to endure its agony, but they did their duty. In doing so, they forged the freedoms too many of us still take for granted today.

The late basketball wizard John Wooden once said, “Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out,” and Mr. Goree was evermore the president of that club.

He would regale his pals with his tales of actually going deer hunting during the “Bulge,”, saying he thought C-rations were awful until they tried to cook and eat whatever strange beast it was they finally killed. And he would find the humor of sleeping under an Army half-track truck, telling about turning the motor on during the night in an effort to stay warm underneath it, but I always figured it was to shield us from the actual horrors “The Greatest Generation” finally mastered.

So ever since that rainy morning we spent, Mr. Goree has been an even greater hero to me and, as our ever-handsome and delightful knight embraces his Lord and Savior, allow me to tell you about the most recent time he stole many hearts.

Marshall married his childhood sweetheart, Liza, in a hurried fashion at the onset of World War II and later they parented four of the most drop-dead gorgeous girls who ever walked. I never dared to even look at one of them too long, because Mr. Goree’s wartime heroics were so legendary among us boys, but each one married, in turn, the finest four guys Marshall could have ever wanted in a son.

Well, as the patriarch Marshall presided over a fun and Godly tribe, there were soon 14 grandchildren who would call him “Da” (short for Dad) and then 32 great grandchildren followed suit so his lifetime on earth turned out pretty special.

Well, not long after his beloved Liza died in 2004, his health began to wane so everybody figured he’d do best in a rest home. Call it “assisted living” if you want but I always thought one of the biggest things was that the fun-loving Mr. Goree got lonesome. Well, it wasn’t long until he not only captivated the place, but also found a great friend in a wonderful lady named Julia Dillenger.

Now “Miss Julia” not only enjoyed watching sports on TV but she also understood the nuisances of the game (I’m still talking about TV.) So Marshall kind of liked the way she giggled and requested the two be able to sit at meals with one another. But, no, the seating order couldn’t be disturbed due to different medicines and various diets of all the others.

That didn’t make much sense to Mr. Goree, but he quickly noticed the only exceptions were couples who were married, so – much to the delight of his four girls and an entire community – he was soon zipping down the aisle of the Lookout Mtn. Presbyterian Church in his motorized wheelchair where he and his beaming Julia were married in the most glorious “twilight wedding” anyone can remember.

That, in essence, was Mr. Goree. No matter what the hurdle, he always made the best of things and he was, in turn, truly one of the biggest heroes in what we will always call our Greatest Generation. Because of his contribution to life, not to mention his zest and merriment and unfailing love for God and Country, America is what is today.

And I am grateful, so very grateful, that one rainy winter morning he shared a slice of it with me.