"How come Grandpa saved this old thing?" I asked, poking through a pile of musty papers in the cellar with my dad. We'd just come back from the funeral and were helping Grandma sort hoarded possessions.

My dad took the old Burpee Seed calendar for 1943 from my hand, observed the year, and flipped it to February. The 6th was circled and noted with Grandpa's penciled script.

We went upstairs into the kitchen and my dad sat in Grandpa's well-worn rocking chair next to the cast iron wood-burning stove. He held the calendar as he shared with me his most unusual combat experience. During World War II, he fought with the 1st Division, 16th Infantry Regiment as a platoon commander, all the way from their initial landing in North Africa to D-Day and Omaha beach at Normandy, France.

Although a highly decorated combat veteran, he said that he never got a medal for his bravest action. On Feb. 6, 1943, he was leading his men on a night march on the desert in North Africa to get into position for a dawn attack. A recurring bout of malaria raked his feverish body.

My father recounted, "I was so sick all I wanted to do is crawl into a hole and sleep. My teeth were chattering and I had stomach cramps. I knew if I stopped marching, my men would stop, too. We would be caught in the open by dawn's light and the enemy artillery fire could kill what they could see. I could not quit.

"As I forced myself to keep moving forward, I remember repeating the Lord's Prayer. I must have fallen asleep on my feet from exhaustion. I had the most comforting dream. It seemed to me that I was back home, here in this kitchen. I saw Grandpa asleep in this rocking chair. We talked about not quitting. He reminded me of the lessons I'd learned in the Boy Scouts and from playing football. I returned from my dream-like visit with my father with the strength and will to continue the mission and get my men into position before dawn."

He rocked forward and handed me the calendar and continued.

"After the war was over I returned home and shared my war experiences with Grandpa. He astounded me by saying that I had appeared to him when he was dozing in this rocking chair one night. Grandma had retired for the evening and Grandpa said that I came and stood by the stove and we talked. He said I needed help and he encouraged me. It was such an odd incident that Grandpa marked it on the calendar. It was Feb. 6, 1943, the same night I was sick with malaria, leading my troops and trying not to give up."

I stared at Grandpa's penciled notation on the Feb. 6 square of the calendar: "David dropped by today."