My father would always tell the story of how he was playing Ping-Pong in Frankie Hurley's basement in Dorchester when the news came over the radio that Sunday. The next day, Monday, my father, (who was 22), his brother Bill, (who was 19), and a bunch of their friends enlisted. He always said, "it was the thing to do". He and my uncle were in the Navy, (on different ships), in the South Pacific for the next 4 years.
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