(Fox News)
It seemed like a very normal afternoon in Lyman, South Carolina, a small southern town in upstate, the closest metropolis was Spartanburg, which wasn’t all that much of a metropolis. Lyman was a place where most everyone worked at Pacific Mills, drank Coca-Colas at the local drug store and worshipped at the Methodist or Baptist church. Everyone who lived there was practically family and Lyman is where my people came from.
And for two weeks in the autumn of 1943, the people of Lyman, South Carolina would embrace my family through one of the more difficult periods of World War Two.
The date was October 14, 1943. The seasonal change was well underway and the leaves in South Carolina’s upstate were ablaze with shades of amber, yellow and orange. Football is a religion in the South and Lyman was no different. And it had faithful practitioners in my great uncles — Gene and Louie Bolin — the youngest of eight children. My uncles were just teenagers, then, and when then school bell rang that October afternoon, they bolted outside and raced to the football field.
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