I was out digging in my hole one day – the one east of the house, out by the road – and my dad came over and asked me what I was doing. I told him, “I’m working on this hole”. He said, “Well, alright then”. I asked him a question, I asked him: “Dad? Do you love me?” And he said: “Yes, David. I love you.” I did some more digging and then I stopped, and I asked him: “How much do you love me?” And he said, “I can’t tell you that. It is impossible to describe. The only way you can know how much I love you is to grow up and have a little boy of your own. Then you will know how much I love you.”
I kept digging. The Germans were advancing. Bullets were flying everywhere. They had machine guns. I needed a foxhole and I needed a foxhole fast. I also needed some grenades. Dirt clods made really good grenades. You cold throw them and they would explode on impact.
I never found out how much my dad loved me. I figure it was probably a lot.