My dad and WWII
When my dad was a young boy, a neighbor threw a rock at him, leaving him blind him in one eye. My dad never complained nor did he say a bad word about the stone-thrower. The injury, as you would suspect, had a major impact on his life, including his service to our country.
The bombing of Pearl Harbor led hordes of young men to enlist in the military and my dad was anxious to join them. He showed at the recruitment office, ready and able. Sadly for him, the armed services did not accept those with such physical imperfections.
I believe most men at the time weren't looking for an excused absence and my dad was no exception. He wanted to do something, considering how others were risking their lives. He visited the enlistment office for a second time but once again, the answer was the same. The armed forces just couldn't accept him with partial vision.
Happily for him, the story does not end there. His third attempt would prove to be the charm. With the war raging, the enormous loss of men and fewer eligible recruits, the army had no choice but to lower its acceptance level.
My dad was given the job of a cook since he was not eligible for the infantry. He worked in a mobile hospital unit, having first taken up residence at a men's college in Paris. From there, they traveled to where they were needed, with my dad frequently having to carry the wounded.
My family also suffered a great loss in the war. My dad had been very close to his nephew, Teddy. Teddy was an aerial gunner whose plane was shot down. They never did recover his body.
After the war ended, as a reward for his service, the army offered my dad the opportunity to attend cooking school in Paris. He then went to Germany for a time and soon after he was sailing home.
A few years later, my dad met my mom while he staying with his sister in Ohio and she was visiting her aunt next door. My dad grew up in Pittsburgh so I imagine his knowledge of Connecticut was limited at the time. He must have been amused when he found out the name of my mom's hometown, Waterbury, CT. As it happened, the ship my dad sailed on when coming home from the war was none other than the U.S.S. Waterbury. Who would have thought he would one day live in a city of the same name?
My dad kept a journal of his days in the army. He would sometimes take it out, read through it and reminisce, I suppose. I do not know the depth of his writing. I never disturbed my dad during those times nor did I ask ever him permission to read the diary. It seemed too personal then, just as it does now.
Three years ago, my dad passed away at which time he was given a military funeral. The officers attending his service called out his name, “Sergeant Stanziano” and listed some of the metals he had won. I had no idea of his rank. Some time later, I was looking through his badges when I curiously spotted a pin that I had seen before but had never given it much thought. Here he had to badger the military to overlook his partial blindness and yet, here I was, holding his metal for Expert Marksmanship.
The bombing of Pearl Harbor led hordes of young men to enlist in the military and my dad was anxious to join them. He showed at the recruitment office, ready and able. Sadly for him, the armed services did not accept those with such physical imperfections.
I believe most men at the time weren't looking for an excused absence and my dad was no exception. He wanted to do something, considering how others were risking their lives. He visited the enlistment office for a second time but once again, the answer was the same. The armed forces just couldn't accept him with partial vision.
Happily for him, the story does not end there. His third attempt would prove to be the charm. With the war raging, the enormous loss of men and fewer eligible recruits, the army had no choice but to lower its acceptance level.
My dad was given the job of a cook since he was not eligible for the infantry. He worked in a mobile hospital unit, having first taken up residence at a men's college in Paris. From there, they traveled to where they were needed, with my dad frequently having to carry the wounded.
My family also suffered a great loss in the war. My dad had been very close to his nephew, Teddy. Teddy was an aerial gunner whose plane was shot down. They never did recover his body.
After the war ended, as a reward for his service, the army offered my dad the opportunity to attend cooking school in Paris. He then went to Germany for a time and soon after he was sailing home.
A few years later, my dad met my mom while he staying with his sister in Ohio and she was visiting her aunt next door. My dad grew up in Pittsburgh so I imagine his knowledge of Connecticut was limited at the time. He must have been amused when he found out the name of my mom's hometown, Waterbury, CT. As it happened, the ship my dad sailed on when coming home from the war was none other than the U.S.S. Waterbury. Who would have thought he would one day live in a city of the same name?
My dad kept a journal of his days in the army. He would sometimes take it out, read through it and reminisce, I suppose. I do not know the depth of his writing. I never disturbed my dad during those times nor did I ask ever him permission to read the diary. It seemed too personal then, just as it does now.
Three years ago, my dad passed away at which time he was given a military funeral. The officers attending his service called out his name, “Sergeant Stanziano” and listed some of the metals he had won. I had no idea of his rank. Some time later, I was looking through his badges when I curiously spotted a pin that I had seen before but had never given it much thought. Here he had to badger the military to overlook his partial blindness and yet, here I was, holding his metal for Expert Marksmanship.
1 Comments:
Hi, I'm very much into cookery & cooking, particularly vegetarian cooking. I would like to know where to meet similar people. I've joined this site (vegetarian cooking) and would like to know of other such sites.
Thanks
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