This week, I met the only surviving Medal of Honor recipient from World War II. Woody Williams earned the Medal of Honor for his actions at Iwo Jima.

From his bio on the Department of Defense website:

“Williams had initially been one of several demolition sergeants, but by Feb. 23, 1945, he was the only one left. So, he bravely volunteered to go forward as the last flamethrower to try to quell the devastating machine-gun fire from the pillboxes.

In four hours, with only four riflemen to protect him, Williams managed to wipe out seven pillboxes. He repeatedly prepared explosives in a safe area, struggled back to where the enemy was, and then set off the charges.”

A few months later, he received the Medal of Honor from Harry S. Truman.

And I’m sittin’ here thinkin’, “The only reason I’m familiar with the term ‘pillbox’ is because it was used in a video game I enjoyed playing as a kid.”

Williams had come to Keller for the dedication of a monument to Gold Star families.

At 97 and a World War II hero, I wondered if he’d take kindly to a reporter shovin’ a microphone in his face. But he smiled, shook my hand and we started chatting.

“Would you like to sit down?” I asked. He’d been standing up while he gave his speech and then spent about 30 minutes walking around meeting people.

“I’m fine,” he replied. “Would you like to sit down?”

I do enjoy sitting, but I step up when the military’s involved.

That called to mind my experience flying with a World War II vet who called me a pansy because I was too scared to stick my head out the top of B-17. When the Commemorative Air Force moved to Dallas a few years ago, the general manager of the B29 program talked about the time he foolishly offered a ladder to a World War II vet to help him into the plane.

At another show, he says a veteran with Alzheimer’s started reliving his time in the cockpit, talking for the first time in years.

World War II vets can take care of themselves. At 97, Woody Williams was more than ready for whatever questions I was going to ask. Probably because he, as the Department of Defense explains, once “jumped onto one of the pillboxes from the side and shoved the nozzle of his 70-pound flamethrower into an air vent pipe and fired, killing everyone inside.” There’s a chance a five minute interview was not his greatest challenge ever in life.

He spent four hours taking out pillboxes with exactly four riflemen with him. Two of those riflemen were killed.

Williams said one of the biggest challenges now is how few people serve in the military. We’ve gone from almost everyone participating in the war effort in World War II, from men being drafted to women working in factories for the war effort, to less than one percent of Americans serving.

Loyal Scaiaholics will recall my discussion with a pilot whose first mission was D-Day. I wrote in that blog, “My generation, meanwhile, argues over pronouns.”

We can now add, “I’ve only ever used a flamethrower as part of a war effort while playing Wolfenstein.”

A survey indicates just 7% of us “strongly believe” we have a lot in common with veterans.

That may be true. The most triumphant activity I did to benefit our country today was learn Harry Truman really did want you to put a period after the “S” in his middle name.