As a Private First Class during World War II, my Dad wore many hats — machine gunner, chauffeur, guard — pretty much whatever his commanding officer told him to do.
After the Allies secured many of the artifacts that had been spirited away by The Third Reich, this one particular day found Dad and a fellow soldier in a salt mine guarding a large number of priceless paintings.
They heard people entering the mine. It became obvious to them at once who it was, but Dad whispered to the other guard, “Watch this!”
On alert and without another word, he shouldered his rifle and pointed it at the person leading the procession.
“Halt! Who goes there?” Dad called out as was their protocol. “Identify yourself.”
The leader of the procession stopped — and so did the people following him.
He saluted the two soldiers and said, “Allied Commander General Dwight D. Eisenhower. At ease.”
They immediately complied. General Eisenhower walked up to Dad and shook his hand. “Well done, soldier,” he said.
Dad told that story many times over the years, always laughing and adding a shake of his head at the end — remembering the time he pulled his rifle and pointed it at General Dwight D. Eisenhower — later the 34th President of the United States.
Through My Eyes, Gently 