This is a family story  my father told me about his mother, my Grandmother.
In 1949, my father had just returned home from the war. On every American highway you could see soldiers 										 in uniform hitchhiking home to their families , as was the custom at that time in America.
Sadly , the thrill of his reunion with his family was soon overshadowed  . my grandmother became 										very ill and had to be hospitalized. It was her kidneys, and the doctors told my father that she 										needed a blood transfusion immediately or she would not live through   the night . The problem 										was that Grandmother`s blood type was AB- , a very rare type even today , but even harder to get 										then because there were no blood banks or air flights to ship blood. All the family members were 										typed, but not one member was a match . So the doctors gave the family no hope , my grandmother 										was dying.
                       
			            My father left the hospital in tears to gather up all the family members , so that everyone 										would get a chance to tell Grandmother good - bye. As my father was driving down the highway , 										he passed a soldier in uniform hitchhiking home to his family .Deep in grief  , my father had 										no inclination at that moment to do a good deed . Yet it was almost as if something outside 										himself pulled him to a stop , and he waited as the stranger climbed into the car.
My father was too upset to even ask the soldier his name , but the soldier noticed my father`s 										tears right away and inquired about them . Through his tears , my father told this total 										stranger that his mother was lying in a hospital dying because the doctors had been unable to 										locate her blood type AB_ , and if they did not locate her blood type before nightfall , she 										would surely die.
			                  It got very quiet in the car. Then this unidentified soldier extended his hand out to my father, 										palm up. Resting in the palm of his hand were the dog tags from around his neck  . The blood 										type on the tags was AB- . The soldier told my father to turn the car around and get him to the 										hospital.
My Grandmother lived until 1996, 47 years later , and to this day no one in our family knows 										the soldier`s name. But my father has often wondered , was he a soldier or an Angel in uniform.