Seventy Seven years ago, my grandparents received word that my father had been injured three separate times in battle, while stationed with the 88th Blue Devil Division, part of the 350th Regiment, in Lieut. – General Mark W. Clark’s Fifth Army drive toward the Po Valley in Italy.

Dad joined the Army at Fort Hayes, Ohio, on August 24, 1940, after an intense argument with his dad at the family homestead on Huff Ridge, New Martinsville. At that time the war was only a year old and things were really heating up.

My grandfather needed Dad to help with the farm work, but Dad had set his mind on joining the service for his country and even grandpa was not going to change it. Grandma set down and cried thinking he would never return as reports were coming in everyday of the terrible battles and loss of life.

Dad trained with the 9th Division at Fort Bragg, North Carolina and was assigned to the 88th Division at Camp Gruber, Oklahoma. On the 4th day of march, 1943, the Division was activated and as Staff Sergeant he led a rifle squad on Mt. Acuto during the drive to the Po Valley. On April 9th at 2:45 a.m., 14 Germans attacked the position of his squad. Seeing them approaching armed with two machine guns, machine pistols and rifles, he placed his men up on the ridge to defend their positions.

A German machine gunner opened up and the Americans fired back with their M-1 rifles and two automatic rifles. Two Germans were killed and the remaining dozen withdrew.

A veteran of 140 days in combat Dad was wounded three times. Twice by fragment shells and another by knife, in hand to hand combat. According to reports and records he also had a rifle knocked from his hands by shell fragments on two occasion, yet he refused to leave the battlefield. For his war heroics he was awarded the Purple Heart, Silver Star and the Bronze Star. He returned home in 1945, a few months after the official end of the War. Although he was highly decorated and considered by many a hero, he was ready to start a family and return to life as a civilian.

He married my mother and together they began to raise a family. My oldest brother was born in Fort Benning, Georgia, while Dad’s time as a soldier was ending. I was born in Cleveland where my parents moved for work. Stories like this can be told all over this nation. Dad never spoke much about his time in the service, he considered himself one of the lucky ones. Like many who went through the hell of war, it was better to leave it in the past, than dwell on the memories.

However most could not forget those awful times, and Dad was no different. The memories of fallen soldiers, and the sites and sounds of war continue to haunt war time soldiers for the rest of their lives. More than 71 million people lost their lives during WVII. While Such is the nature of war, the risks soldiers face aren’t limited to the battlefield. In fact, World War II was the first war in which more U.S. troops died in battle than from disease and other causes. Many came home shell shocked or with PTSD as we know it today and unable to adjust to everyday life following war.

Memorial Day is a national holiday set aside to remember those who died in battle to protect our freedom. Wars are the bloody next step after failed diplomacy. Sometimes they are necessary, sometimes they are the result of blundering national leaders, but in all, soldiers do what is asked of them, and our cemeteries are filled with the human cost. This coming Monday we again recognize that debt we owe to those who paid the ultimate price.

May we all may tribute Memorial Day to those who lost their lives defending the freedom of this great nation.