Uncle Frank joined the Army before his 18th birthday. He served as a gunner in the 813th Tank Destroyer Battalion, Company A, landing in Normandy, then fighting through France, Belgium, and Germany. Like many of his generation, he seldom spoke of his wartime experiences. Family members quietly told the story of the time he and his tank unit were hunkered down. Someone had to venture out for the mail call. Uncle Frank drew the short straw. It's hard to fathom in this age of instant connectivity, but in those days, the letters in that mail call were the link between soldiers and their loved ones on the Homefront. While he was out on that treacherous errand, a blast hit their tank. All his buddies perished. The short straw had spared him.
In 1995, Uncle Frank perused photographs from my own European travels. Unwittingly, I had visited many of the same regions that had been part of his wartime experience. "I helped liberate that place!" he exclaimed when he saw the photos of Dachau. "You walked in my shoes," he told me. That opened the door for his sharing of memories and artifacts from those long-ago days: photos with Army friends in Mozart Square, his Bronze Star medals, coins from his travels through wartime Europe. I'm grateful for the conversations that we had together, and for his kind, resilient spirit.
Maryann Mraz, faculty, Cato College of Education |
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