I never met my great grandfather. His friends called him Nellie. He died on my third birthday, when he was 82 years old. To be honest, the first time I heard anything about Nellie was when my dad showed me a bunch of his belongings. Among the things he showed me was a knife, inscribed “Nellie” on one side of the handle and “Rita” on the other; a holster for a Belgian pistol, on which was written another man’s name; and a certificate, typed out on a tattered, brittle piece of paper, signed with a written signature at the bottom and a typed one at the top. “Private First Class Claude E. Nelson of the 413th Infantry. Dated July 16th, 1945.”

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