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A Veteran's Day post, for my father.
Growing up, I was always aware that my dad had served during World War II. I knew from old photos what he looked like in uniform. I knew that he'd fought in the Battle of the Bulge. I knew he'd earned a Purple Heart (though he claimed his injury required only a simple bandage). I also knew that he never cared to talk much about his wartime experiences. He wasn't secretive and walled-up about it, but he never went into any great detail on those rare occasions when the subject came up. So you can imagine my surprise when only a few years ago I learned, almost by accident, that my gentle, unassuming father is a Silver Star–decorated hero who performed with tremendous valor under terrible duress during one the longest and most devastating battles in U.S. Army history: the Battle of Hürtgen Forest.
Back in June 1994, during the 50th anniversary celebrations of WWII, the French government invited veterans who'd landed at Normandy to attend a ceremony where they were awarded a special commemorative medal. Unsurprisingly, my father chose not to go. A few years later, all the vets who missed the Normandy honor were invited to the U.S. Capitol to receive their rightful medals, and he was going to skip that, too (despite living in nearby Maryland). He had never told me about the invitation to return to Normandy, but when I learned of the ceremony at the Capitol, I couldn't resist asking him to share with me more about his experiences during the war. I traveled down to Maryland and took my father out to lunch and peppered him with questions, which he answered unreservedly with a great richness of detail. He told me what it was like when George Patton visited his outfit and ate with him in the officers' mess, with his shiny helmet and fancy revolvers; that an entire unit he'd been with, but was pulled from to join Officer Candidate School, had perished in a plane crash in North Africa; that he was among the first American soldiers to cross into Luxembourg and how his division was the first to advance across German lines; and about performing occupation duty after the war ended and seeing long queues of emaciated camp survivors.
That day at lunch my father also mentioned that he'd been awarded the Silver Star. I didn't really understand the great significance of this until I returned home and started doing some research. I asked my father to tell me the story of how he earned the Silver Star and he send me a long letter detailing what took place. He also included the original document that came through confirming his award of the medal. And most movingly, he sent me his Silver Star.
I treasure these items and continue to be proud of my father's service in the cause of defeating fascism. In the spirit of offering an oral history as tribute, I am reprinting below the command document ordering my father's Silver Star and an excerpt of the letter he wrote to me describing the circumstances surrounding his earning it.
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