I wondered for years why or how my father was not drafted or involved in World War II until 1944, when he was 24 years old. Father’s Day was coming up, and it inspired me to finally to do the research that might provide the answer. My father had passed away by then, so with the help of my son and daughter; a 94-year-old aunt; the National Personnel Records Center, Military Personnel Records; and long-forgotten family letters, records, news article, and pictures, I now know the story.
Before beginning this endeavor, I was aware only that my father had been involved in the Battle of the Bulge, was wounded, and spent time in hospitals in France and England.
When the war broke out, we lived in Rio Tinto, Nevada, where my father worked in the copper mine. My daughter spent time with my mom in her later years and recorded the wonderful stories Mom told her about life in those war years. From my mom’s stories and my aunt, I learned that after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, my father and uncle went to work for Morrison-Knudson Construction Company in Boise, Idaho. We all moved to Mountain Home, Idaho, where the men helped build the Mountain Home Army Airbase. While we were there, we lived in a motel. Later, we went to Northern Idaho where the men helped build the Farragut Naval Base. While I don’t remember this, I was told we lived in tents with wood floors and ate at a central cafeteria each day. The men working here were then shipped to Hawaii where they helped build ammunition storage bunkers. Mom, my aunt, my aunt’s daughter, and I moved back to our home town of Castleford, Idaho, where we lived until the men returned.
After that job came to an end, we returned to Rio Tinto where my father went back to work in the mine. My brother was born during this time. My father then chose to enlist in the army, because he felt guilty for not doing his share! After basic training at Camp Roberts in California, he volunteered for paratrooper training and was sent to Fort Benning, Georgia. I was told he volunteered because it qualified him for more pay, which he could use to support Mom, my brother, and me.
He was shipped to France as part of the 101st Airborne Division, known as the Screaming Eagles, and was involved in the Battle of the Bulge where he was wounded. He spent time in a hospital in France and two hospitals in England. Once released from the hospital, he was eligible to return home to America, but he chose instead to rejoin his unit as they invaded Germany.
Near the end of my father’s life, my son traveled to Idaho to visit my mother while she was in the hospital for hip surgery. That evening at my father’s house, my son got him to talk about his wartime experiences. My father told him stories none of us had ever heard, and they talked until 3 a.m. My father also gave him some of his wartime souvenirs, including his basic training and paratrooper manuals. In 2001, my son was preparing a wall-hanging memorial of my father’s military experience and emailed the National Personnel Records Center for a list of the medals he was awarded. After providing proof of his relationship to my father, they provided him with a copy of my father’s enlistment and discharge papers along with not only a list of the medals he was awarded, but actual medals. Included was the Bronze Star, which my father had never mentioned and none of us were aware that he had been awarded.
My father brought home from the war a plaque representing the Army’s reply to the German Army’s demand for them to surrender. I presume it was given to all soldiers involved in the Battle of the Bulge. My son now displays it in his wall-hanging memorial.
Becoming aware of the things my son and daughter did prompted me to dig into a box of old photos, records, newspaper articles, and letters that had been handed down to me. So now, 16 years after my father’s death, my questions about his late involvement in World War II are resolved, and my pride in him is something I can’t discuss without tearing up.
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