There was a death in my family recently. Chirs was an aunt by marriage, but was as close as blood when I was growing up. Consequently, there was a family gathering at a local restaurant last weekend, and a chance to swap old memories, and hear old stories.
My father's remaining brother, Harry, was seated at my table with his daughter, Cathy and a variety of cousins. Harry's a quiet man, steady and dependable, and was happy to be with family, even though for a sad occasion.
My cousin Tom is the question asker, probably from his days of being a teacher. Somehow the conversation turned to the World War II service of the brothers. These were the old stories, the funny stories, and the sad.
Tom, Senior, had been in the Navy, and volunteered for submarine duty. At 6 foot one, he was too tall for the pre-nuclear subs of the time and was rejected. Abe served in the Army under General George S. Patton in North Africa and Europe. He sent letters home advising his younger brothers to enlist in the navy. Serving in the Army had him living in foxholes, something that left a mark on him even after the war.
Younger brothers Charlie and Harry enlisted in the Navy, and were sent to the South Pacific, serving on different vessels. Charlie witnessed a kamikaze attack on his ship. Harry was attached to the Marines and drove amphibious craft loads of troops onto beaches during battles.
There were probably more stories, but not a lot of time at this luncheon. The one about my father, George, tickled me. He enlisted in the Army a few days after his birthday. His brother Abe signed the paperwork for him. It was 1946 and the war was over, but troops were still being sent to Europe. My dad was among them.
I've seen pictures of him in uniform, posing with Jack Dempsey at his bar in New York City, leaning against a car in Paris. He was an MP, and ended up in Germany, where he had his own apartment and his own maid/housekeeper. After growing up the youngest of ten, he must have thought he was "living the life of Riley" just having his own place. In fact he was so impressed by his situation, he re-enlisted.
But of course by 1947 the world was changing. He wasn't sent back to Europe for his second hitch. No, he was sent to Alaska. A new war was starting, the Cold War, and airfields were needed by the Bering Sea.
Now the photos show my father in heavy weather clothes, standing with a rifle, laying in the snow with a rifle, just lots and lots of snow and no mademoiselles or frauleins. For a very young man, this was a very traumatic turn of events.
Harry mentioned my dad sent a series of letters home, asking his parents to write to the Red Cross, saying they had a "hard ship case" and he was needed at home. But at that point Harry and Helen were living at home with my grandparents, so there was no hardship case. I'm guessing it was more a case of making your bed and lying in it.
Luckily, George survived his ordeal in the frozen north. His discharge papers came from the Army Air Corps, and he came back to Saugus. All of which brings me back to Aunt Chris.
She and my mother Sophie were working at the GE in Lynn. Chris had been seeing Charlie for awhile, and mentioned to my mother that Charlie's brother George was coming home from the army. Did she want to double date? The answer was yes.
That blind date led to a wedding, children, and a home. I made very sure, as we were gathered Saturday, to offer a toast to Aunt Chris, aunt by marriage, close as blood. Chris and Charlie started the events and choices that led to my sitting here.
So here's a virtual toast to both Chis and Charlie, together again.
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