My Swedish grandfather was a police officer during WW2 and frequently worked with Raoul Wallenberg distributing fake Swedish passports and papers to Jewish escapees, also helping them get onto trains to Sweden. Have always been very proud of those stories.
My great-grandpa spilled the tea on his deathbed to my great-uncle and great-aunt. When he was 16, he lied about his age to enter the Royal Navy. Then WWI began shortly after. His older brother died in France, and his younger brother died of pneumonia in Wales. So, he and a friend decided to go AWOL from the Royal Navy after getting their 6-month salary (£20). He then stole a Canadian man's identity, took a steamer ship to Canada, and eventually crossed into the US. He lived the rest of his life under the stolen identity.
I only knew my grandfather as a kind but quiet and stoic man. But my grandmother used to tell me about how he was the life of every party, always buying rounds of beers, dancing with all the ladies, and jumping on stage to sing Irish jigs. It didn't jive with the man I knew. About 20 years after he died, my father told me why that was.
Back in the early '70s, he was driving a delivery truck when he accidentally hit and killed a child who was playing in the street. My grandfather was cleared of any liability, and even the mother of the child, who witnessed the accident, said there was nothing my grandfather could've done to prevent it. Still, he was consumed by guilt, and his health deteriorated.
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