I didn't know him, I'm just a fan, but I found myself quite saddened today to learn of his death this morning.
He was also one tough SOB.
At 19, James escaped the turmoil at home by joining the Canadian army, becoming a lieutenant in artillery. He was among the Canadian forces that landed on Juno Beach on D-Day. "The sea was rough," he recalled. "We were more afraid of drowning than the Germans."
The Canadians crossed a minefield laid for tanks; the soldiers weren't heavy enough to detonate the bombs. At 11:30 that night, he was machine-gunned, taking six hits: one that took off his middle right finger (he managed to hide the missing finger on screen), four in his leg and one in the chest. The chest bullet was stopped by his silver cigarette case.
Insert flippant comment about the life-preserving nature of cigarettes.
Now that's what I call a life. Active and popular 'til the end (his last child was born in 2000, when the man was 80!).
[Rue] on 01/24/07 11:09 : With bated breath I await your return to blogging. [go]
[Rue] on 01/24/07 11:09 : With bated breath I await your return to blogging. [go]
[Rue] on 01/24/07 11:09 : With bated breath I await your return to blogging. [go]
[Rue] on 01/24/07 11:09 : With bated breath I await your return to blogging. [go]
[Rue] on 01/24/07 11:09 : With bated breath I await your return to blogging. [go]
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