Veteran’s Day 2013

 I miss my World War II Father and Uncles. My Grandparents had four of their five sons serve during World War II. Today’s photographs are of my grandparent’s home.

It was a blessing that their four boys came home safely when so many young men did not get that opportunity. I hope everyone understands and remembers the courage and sacrifice of The Greatest Generation.

My sons were interested in my father’s war stories; which Dad gladly shared. I remember one night when Dad was telling about how he crossed the English Channel. He spoke of seasickness and of being fired upon. My very young son innocently replied that he would just dive under the water and my father told him bullets go under water too.

In Loving Memory of Bob, Al, George and Marvin Meyer

Everyone Is Irish On St. Patrick’s Day

I would like to share an Irish tale.

Many years ago, my cousin, Michael, married a beautiful girl named Elaine who was of Italian descent. They were to be married by Elaine’s elderly Italian uncle, Father Tognucchi. I arrived at Church early, settled into a pew and patiently waited for Elaine’s elderly uncle to perform the wedding mass. I was looking forward to listening to his beautiful Italian accent. I love Italian accents.

With Father Tognucchi’s first words, I realized that this elderly, Italian priest did not have an Italian accent. He spoke with an Irish brogue! I spent the remainder of the wedding and my trip home pondering how could this be.

My soon-to-be husband and I attended their wedding reception. On the drive to Elaine and Mike’s wedding reception, I told him the story of Elaine’s elderly, Italian uncle, Father Tognuchhi. I explained how he was originally from Italy but spoke with an Irish brogue.

My future husband’s immediate response was, “Oh my gosh, I know him! Father Tony was a frequent guest in my home growing up.” As we enter the reception, there sat Father Tognucchi.  My future husband quickly approached Father Tognucchi and introduced himself. There was a heartfelt reunion with big smiles that led to a pay phone because cellular phones were not yet invented. Father Tony and my now father-in-law had a happy reunion via telephone.

How did an elderly priest from Italy learn to speak English with an Irish brogue?  And . . . how did this elderly priest from Italy become friends with an Irish-Italian Chicagoan?

During World War II, Father Tony lived in India and learned to speak English from an Irish missionary or monk. My father-in-law was also stationed in India during World War II. He was assigned to the signal corps and it is there he met Father Tony. I trust they spent a great deal of time in Church together, but I think they may have shared many adventures while stationed together in India. The two became fast friends.

I hope you enjoyed my Irish tale that involved an Italian priest and an Irish-Italian Chicagoan.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Linda

The War Horse and a Real Life Veteran

My husband and I recently saw the movie, War Horse. Beautiful scenery and music enhance the story of a boy and a horse whose journeys take them through England and Europe during World War I. As the war rages, our main characters somehow manage to survive battles, find each other and ultimately return home. War Horse stimulated my genealogical curiosity about World War I. Immediately I began searching for World War I veterans in my family tree. 

Stephen Clement Dooley was a veteran of World War I. His purple heart hangs in my husband’s office. My husband has just produced several documents relating to his grandfather’s service. I hope to chronicle this man’s life in my next few posts. So I begin….

Stephen Dooley was born to Irish parents, William and Mary Dooley. Census records report that William arrived in the United States about 1886 and became a naturalized citizen. I have not yet located his father's immigration and naturalization records but will continue the search. Census records also report that Mary was born in the United States to Irish immigrants.

Stephen was the middle child in this Irish Catholic family. He had three older brothers and two younger brothers plus a younger sister. My records indicate Stephen was baptized at the Holy Family Church, 1080 W. Roosevelt, Chicago.  Unfortunately, I gathered this piece of evidence during my early genealogical years and failed to create a citation. I now need to relocate my source!

This family would be broken apart by the deaths of both parents. William passed away first. It is said Mary died of a broken heart approximately a year later. Their deaths occurred sometime between 1900-1910. No death records have been found to date to confirm this oral family story and the location of their graves remains unknown as well. In the 1910 census their children John, Stephen, Margaret and David are found to be living with their Uncle David Dooley. Brothers Joseph and William appear to have been living on their own.

Life was difficult for these orphans. Steven took to the streets and began to run with the infamous Touhy gang of Chicago. Until tomorrow . . .

Primary and Secondary Information

Life returns to normal and I return to my genealogy world with time to breathe, think and write!

My last post of December 16, 2011, focused on my Uncle Robert Meyer. I am always struck by coincidences. December 16  marked my uncle’s birth date, the beginning of the Battle of the Bulge and his participation in that battle. December 16 was most certainly a significant date of his life!

Family lore can be very interesting. My uncle was present during the Battle of the Bulge and was a credible witness to the event. He told his story to the males of our family. In turn, I heard the stories from my father, my brother and my husband. Unfortunately, my uncle passed away and I lost my primary informant.

This presented a problem. Initially, I wrote the post by telling the story I had heard from my father, brother and husband. It was a good story! Just prior to posting I gave my cousin, Robbin, a call asking him for details of his father’s war experience.

Robbin became my secondary informant. While he was not present during his father’s war experiences, he did hear the war stories from his father. My secondary informant supplied me with details of his father’s battalion, battles he fought in and the story of the birthday cake. He told the personal side of his father’s war experiences.

Here is the story I heard from my father, my brother and my husband.

On December 16, 1944 my uncle slept on the second floor of a German farmhouse located in the Ardennes Forest of Belgium. There was a knock on the farmhouse door. The sleeping soldiers knew Germans were at the door as no American would ever knock. They immediately rose, grabbed their gear and jumped out the second floor window. They ran for their truck, and sped away throwing grenades at the Germans. The Germans had come in the front door as my uncle jumped out the window!

Uncle Bob’s battalion was missing in action. At the end of the war, my uncle was in Austria busy cleaning up pocket of resistance. He continued fighting until someone informed him that the war was over. There was no need to fight any longer.

With his whereabouts unknown my grandmother began writing letters to newspapers and Congressmen asking for help in locating her son. He eventually returned home due to her letter writing campaign!

Please compare this story with my December 16 post. Genealogical research strives to find accurate information from informants who were as close to the event as possible. My cousin, Robbin, provided greater detail of his father’s war experience.

Robbin does not know exactly where his father was sleeping that morning of December 16. While possible, he could not confirm that he slept in a German farmhouse.  The Ardennes Forest is a thick forest and this suggests that he most likely slept in trenches.

My version comes from stories told by my uncle to my father. My father told my brothers and my husband. I heard them but did not pay close attention. With each retelling and my poor listening skills, details may have changed.

My grandmother most likely wrote letters looking for her son’s safe return though I doubt her letters were the sole reason for his return. To my knowledge no letters exist.  Most likely a combination of events occurred both here and in Europe.

With the desire to provide accurate information, I rewrote my post.

Intersections of Life

  

Robert Helmuth Meyer

December 16, 1920 - October 30, 2011

Today I honor my Uncle Robert Meyer.  He was the third of five sons born to Olga and George Meyer. They were a happy family who weathered the Depression then found themselves facing World War II as many Americans did. Four of the five sons served during World War II.

The Meyer Home

Uncle Bob was a radioman in the 535^th AAA Battalion. His battalion was attached to the 99^th Infantry Division;  which was a companion to the 101^st  Airborne. Wherever the 101^st  was, my uncle was not far away.

AAA stands for anti-aircraft and automatic weapons. Uncle Bob’s battalion protected bridges and airfields. He helped defend the famed Remagen Bridge. During the Normandy Invasion, he landed in the first wave on Utah Beach with the job protecting the battleships in the channel.

Intersections of Life: He continued to fight throughout Europe occasionally crossing paths with his brothers. One time my Dad was traveling in a truck when he saw his brother, Bob, sitting in a tree beside the road. Dad quickly jumped out the truck and the lucky brothers were reunited.

Intersections of Life: His path also intersected with older brother, Al. Al drove a tank named “The Destroyer.” One day Uncle Al was sitting in his tank when a guy came up to him and asked him if he had a brother, Bob. Bob and Al were just one mile apart! Al was granted permission to see his brother. Backtracking a mile Uncle Al and Uncle Bob were reunited. I can only imagine how happy they were to see each other.

Intersections of Life: In December 1944 Uncle Bob found himself in the Ardennes Forest of Belgium. His birthday was December 16^th and had received a birthday cake baked by his mother. There was no time to enjoy if for The Battle of the Bulge had begun. There are stories of Germans using captured jeeps and uniforms to imitate American soldiers. So when the battle began, his first responsibility was to destroy his radio and all papers and abandon that birthday cake.

Uncle Bob was on the front line and stationed in Krinklet, Belgium when the German Panzers rolled over the 99^th Infantry. The battalions scattered and the 535^th was listed as lost in action for a very long time.

Americans created deep trenches in this heavily wooded forest by bombing the ground. The large holes were cleaned up and topped with tree. A final layer of pine boughs were added creating warm, safe trenches. The Germans bombarded American forces by firing high above the Ardennes Forest. Bombs exploded in the air, tops of trees were blown off and shrapnel rained down on American soldiers. My uncle feared thunderstorms throughout the rest of his life. The rolling of thunder sent him back to the Ardennes Forest.

Back to the birthday cake…. It is said that a high-ranking German official inspected the vacated trenches and found a birthday cake. There are reports that he knew the war was lost. Germans had trouble getting necessary fuel, but an American could receive a birthday cake? I have read comments that the cake came from Iowa or New York. I wonder if that German official came upon my uncle’s cake from Illinois? You never know.

Uncle Bob continued to serve his country now as a MP. He made his way to Austria and then to Paris. World War II officially ended 2 September 1945 and men were beginning to return home. Uncle Bob’s battalion was not rotated home for they were still considered lost in battle. His Captain angrily asked,
“Why aren’t my men going home?” Eventually Uncle Bob returned home. His service to our nation began in October 1942 and ended 6 December 1945 just in time his twenty-fifth birthday!

One Christmas season, Uncle Bob sent his Christmas card making note the anniversary of the Battle of the Bulge. My husband belongs to an organization that spans the globe and sent my uncle’s Battle of the Bulge story out to membership of the organization. Several members had British roots and responded in thanks for the “Yanks” who bravely defended them. I sent those responses on for Uncle Bob to enjoy. I regret not saving a copy of them for my growing genealogy collection.

Linda