We can learn a lot from my World War II hero father, who would have turned 110 today

We can learn a lot from my World War II hero father, who would have turned 110 today

By Justin Breen

Feb. 8, 2026

My father, Mike, would have turned 110 today. He was 61 when I was born, a great American hero in World War II and Korea. He died when I was 13 of a massive heart attack.

After he died, I found his diary from Battle of the Hürtgen Forest, a deadly affair in Belgium and Germany. He was one of the few soldiers in his unit to survive. He was shot down in combat numerous times; sometimes he wasn’t wearing a parachute. He would just get back into another plane.

Well before my 20-year career as a journalist, my father was the first person I ever interviewed. I was in third or fourth grade, so it was sometime in the mid-1980s. Some highlights of that interview included he was extremely worried about a third World War and what it would do families around the globe; he loved my mother intensely (she was 34 years younger than him); and he always followed his heart and intuition.

The world could learn a lot from my dad, who went on to become an attorney in the Nazi War Crime/Nuremberg Trials, a president of a company, and the “clean guy” in the mafia whose best friend was killed in a famous mob hit when I was 5 years old, and my brothers and I had to be hidden.

For one, there are no excuses not to live a good life. If you want something, you go for it, period. If you love someone, you tell them, and you fight for them, even if they may not be ready to fight for themselves. You listen to people and genuinely try to help them for no other reason other than it’s the right thing to do.

You express your emotions, through words or voice or music. My dad was a brilliant writer. His war diary is one of the best things ever written. He religiously wrote hundreds of letters to his parents while he was serving in combat in Europe and Asia.

He had the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. When I meet people with similar hearts, I’m immediately drawn to them. I can see right through their walls to their soul, their essence. My father was like that. He was the only person who really understood me for most of my life.

He lived with a broken heart from friends and family and soldiers who died. He took care of his mother for decades after his father died shortly after World War II ended. He helped raise children that weren’t his own. I never heard anyone – ever – say a bad word about him.

There are only about 50,000 American World War II veterans still alive, about 0.5 percent of the 16 million who served. About 200 die each day. Soon, they will become an extinct species.

But what will carry on is their heart, their consciousness, the families they created, and the love and honor they spread to the world.

Because my father was so old when I was born, I should probably be around 80, even though I’m technically 48. I inherited my father’s heart, which many times doesn’t fit in this world with separation and fear and anger and social isolation. Like my dad, I’ve found writing to be a great way to share those feelings and hopefully help others while doing it. I love so strongly and deeply, that it is at times completely misunderstood by those living in a more material world.

Like everyone, my father had a shadow. I’m certain he killed many people on the European Front. I’m sure he knew about many killings with his interactions in the mafia. Before he met my mom, he dated many, many beautiful, much younger women.

A shadow is part of our lives. The other half of the light. Not to be discarded but incorporated into our existence. Not celebrated, but understood.

As the Epic Journey book comes out soon, there will be much discussion about the shadow traits of those in and associated with the book. That is part of life.

My father taught me in life and after he died that you just keep going, no matter what. His soul and virtue are in the book’s narrative. He was a song with a wonderful tune, notes that far surpassed his lifetime.