Mr. Rector told me the story of how he was captured and interrogated by the Germans. I just stood quietly, in shock, and listened. At this point his guardian, the volunteer in charge of looking out for his well-being throughout the trip, noticed my very German name. I explained that, yes, my grandparents had come over from Germany, but that they were Jewish. They had been forced to flee their homes. Mr. Rector paused and reached out his hand. I walked alongside his wheelchair – the two of us hand in hand – back to our bus.

Earlier this week, I photographed local WWII veterans returning to Greenville after being treated to a day in Washington, D.C. From what I heard it was a pretty emotional experience in D.C., but it seemed many veterans were also surprised when their plane arrived home and they were greeted by hundreds of people. It was a pretty moving assignment.