I'm glad I knew my uncle. I'm sorry about your father.
As a kid, we had a friend, Stan, who my dad's brother's brother in law. (Uncle Johnny, in this thread, was my Dad's sister's husband) We'd go camping with them at a spot they had on some private land in the hills. They'd park their trailer there for the summer. Rode trailbikes, fished, floated the river. Talk about fun!! Stan had some really great campfire stories (especially great to a 12-year old like me) Stan had been an 8th Air Force bomber crewman. His plane was shot down over German-occupied territory (or maybe Germany?). He and some others managed to bail out, and land right in the middle of a town. They were captured immediately by the Wehrmacht garrison. Stan said it was something of a relief to be captured by the Wehrmacht instead of very-angry civilians with pitchforks and rope. One of the other crewmen broke both legs on landing, and it looked like the Germans were going to put him out of his misery then and there. Stan interceded, pleaded with the troops to let him carry his buddy to "safety", and he did so. In a day or two, his buddy was hospitalized, survived the war. Stan and others were placed in a POW camp. Stan said that it was the camp that the famous "Stalag 17" movie was based on. (his story, not mine). Said the commandant was a real nut case. Would actually make his troops set up boards on the mud so he wouldn't get dirty as he reviewed his prisoners, like in the movie. Was supposedly "shacking up" with some gal in town (exciting stuff for 12-year old me....my Dad would laugh along and wink at me.....great campfire stuff). I guess Stan took a beating from a camp guard one time when he interceded on one of his fellow prisoners being worked over by that guard. The beating guard just switched victims, and Stan got the living sh*t beat out of him. (Stan didn't tell this one around the campfire - my uncle told me about. Stan's campfire tales were always the humorous side for kid consumption)
As the Allies advanced eastward, the POW's also go moved eastward, by foot. Stan mentioned that they were marched by some sort of prison-camp-looking facility from which the most horrendous stench spewed forth. Concentration camp? Slave labor facility? I don't suspect a death camp, since I believe the POW's were in Germany at this time, but who knows. They were ultimately liberated by American or British troops after about 18 months of capitvity. Got home, set about living a normal life. He worked as a civilian employee at nearby Mountain Home Air Base for many years. The poor POW diet (mainly sawdust bread, thin soup, and ersatz coffee (made from corn cobs) pretty much ruined his gut, although he lived into his late 70s. The pictures at his funeral before and after the war were startling. Pre-war, a strapping young buck, full of piss and vinegar. Post war, a tired, middle-aged man in his 20s. The fellow who Stan saved after breaking both legs stayed in touch with Stan the rest of his life. Stan made it back, but he paid dearly for his service. What a guy!!