Chapter XXXIV
Epilogue

I returned home in February 1945. The war in Europe and the Pacific was still flaming. I had no other clothing to wear other than my uniform, which had a number of ribbons on the chest and six stripes on my right sleeve.

Obviously, I was a war hero to everybody.

I do not think many people recognized the caduceus insignia indicating that I was just a doctor (not a “fighting” man). When asked, “How was it?” my offhand, casual response was, “It was rough.” That is what John Wayne would have said.

However, there is an interesting ending to my war stories that I would be remiss not to mention. The army very generously gave us “Three-Year Overseas Heroes” a ten-day officer's leave, wives included, at the Sheldrake Hotel in Miami Beach, Fl.

One evening, in the nightclub of this hotel, another returning medical officer (of similar rank) asked us if they could join us at our small but only available table. Of course we welcomed them and after the usual exchange of amenities, we discovered that they too hailed from Chicago. However, I also discovered that in his early youth the captain lived in the same neighborhood - near Hirsh and Homan streets, close to Lowell Grammar School - which I had attended.

Would you believe this? He was one of the Italian kids who, with the Irish kids, ganged up on us Jewish kids.

We both sat back in our chairs, looked at each other and shook our heads. Neither of us spoke for a long moment. One of our wives asked, “Is there something wrong?”

I remember offering my hand across the table, which he eagerly grasped and I asked him, “Peace?” He covered our already clenched hands with his other hand, and I added mine. As he repeated, “Peace.”

We all had a good laugh after we explained the coincidence to our wives.

Doc Sanders

“Fate is not the ruler, but the servant of providence.”
Bulwer