This year, the 93rd annual remembrance of Veterans Day falls on November 11th, 2011, a date otherwise written as 11/11/11.  The recurring elevens are more than historically correct; they are poignant.  They mark the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, when the guns of World War I fell silent, for that was the moment that the war ended.

Ninety-three years ago, World War I was called “the war to end all wars.”  But those who’d coined that phrase had no way of knowing that WWI was but the prelude of many wars to follow.  To this day, mankind has not learned to solve his problems with reason rather than violence.  To this day, people still try to rob us of our inalienable freedoms; to protect those freedoms and the freedoms of others, we still march into war.  We still lose and mourn loved ones fallen in the armed services.  Leaving their indelible marks upon us all, each war is commemorated by its own mottos, music, and memories.

Some of the World War I’s mottos were, “40 and Eight” (40 men and eight horses to a boxcar), “Over the Top” (a reference to trench warfare), and “The Yanks are Coming.”  These mottos have all but passed into time.  But like certain scents, music has the power to transport us back in time, recalling memories as sharp as the day they were made.   Some of the music from World War I that has endured is George Cohan’s “Over There” as well as tunes from the 1917 musical production, “Yip Yip Yaphank.”

Today, the veterans of World War II are rapidly following in the footsteps of their First World War comrades in arms.  We will be followed by those who fought bravely in the Korean, Vietnam, Gulf, Afghanistan, and Iraqi wars.

America is undergoing dramatic change in the new millennium; our nation’s glorious past is fading into the pages of an ancient history book.  Veterans Day, therefore, should be a time for reflection, a time for our nation to determine the direction it wants to take going forward.  The price of our freedom has been paid for in the blood, sweat, and tears of the forefathers that established this great new nation in 1776, and in that of those who followed.

As I reflect upon the past, I would like to share a poem written by an unknown author.  May it stir the conscience of our readers as they reflect upon this Veterans Day 2011.

A Soldier Died Today

(Author Unknown)

He’s getting old and paunchy

and his hair is falling fast.

As he sits around the Legion

telling stories of the past.

Of a war that he once fought in

and the deeds that he had done

in his exploits with his buddies.

They were heroes, every one.

And sometimes, to his neighbors,

his tales became a joke.

While his buddies listened quietly,

for they knew of whence he spoke.

But we’ll hear his tales no longer,

for he has passed away.

And the world’s a little poorer,

For a soldier died today.

He won’t be mourned by many,

just his family and his wife.

For he lived a very ordinary

quiet sort of life.

He held a job and raised a family,

going quietly on his way.

And the world won’t note his passing,

Though a soldier died today.

When the politicians leave this earth

their bodies lie in state,

while thousands note their passing

and proclaim that they were great.

Papers tell their life stories

from the time when they were young.

While the passing of a soldier

goes unnoticed and unsung.

Is the greatest contribution

to the welfare of our land,

to one who breaks his promise

and cons his fellow man?

Or the ordinary fellow,

who in times of war and strife,

goes off to serve his country

and offers up his life?

The politician’s stipend

and the style in which he lives

are often disproportionate

to the service that he gives.

While the ordinary soldier

who offers up his all

is paid off with a medal

and perhaps a pension small.

It is not the politician,

with his compromise and ploys,

who won for us that freedom

our country now enjoys.

If you find yourself in danger

with your enemies at hand,

would you really want some cop-out

with his ever waffling stand?

Or would you want a soldier

on whom you can depend?

Just a common soldier

who would fight until the end?

He was just a common soldier,

and his ranks are growing thin.

But his presence should remind us

we may need his likes again.

For when countries are in conflict,

we find the soldiers part

is to clean up all the troubles

that the politicians start.

If we cannot do him honor

while he’s here to hear the praise,

then at least let’s give him homage

at the ending of his days.

Perhaps a simple headline

in the papers that might say,

“OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING

A SOLDIER DIED TODAY!”

*******

This past Sunday marked the 10^th anniversary of 9/11.  As stirring and painful as the ceremonies were, several media representatives raised questions concerning the length of our national memory with respect to the day that claimed so many lives while demonstrating so much courage and compassion.  One newscaster said, “Those of us of a certain age remember where we were when President Kennedy was assassinated; it’s something that stays with you.  But the younger generations know this only as a page in our history books.  It will be the same with 9/11, unless we take steps to ensure that this day is never forgotten.”

As hopeful as the newscaster was, chances are, the sting and consequences of 9/11 will one day fade from our national memory, like the proud stars and stripes fading beneath an unrelenting sun.  By and large, it is the same with the promises we made to “never forget” the POWs and MIAs of the wars in which America has been engaged.  The remembrances that have lost much of their meaning include Veterans Day, Pearl Harbor Day, Memorial Day, D-Day, VE Day, and VJ Day.

There is a saying, “A promise made is a debt unpaid.”  What is meaningful for one generation is overshadowed in succeeding generations, and promises get lost in the passage of time.

For instance, who among us recalls the circumstances surrounding the Spanish-American War?  “Remember the Maine!” was the battle cry of that war, a paean to the USS battleship Maine sunk in Havana Harbor by Cuban extremists.  More than 253 American sailors were lost, thus precipitating the entire motto, “Remember the Maine, to Hell with Spain!” heard in the halls of Congress as we responded to the Cuban attack.

Like all wars, that one had its heroes.  These included the great Teddy Roosevelt and his Rough Riders charging up San Juan Hill. Another historical conflict, Admiral Dewey’s conquest of the Philippine islands, created a hero out Captain Charles Gridley.  In 1898, in Manila Harbor, he earned a place in history when Admiral Dewey gave him the command aboard the American flagship, the USS Olympia, to “Fire when ready, Gridley!”

But more than a century later, we barely remember the Maine and Admiral Dewey’s flagship, moored on the Delaware River in Philadelphia.

With so many war heroes lost in the mists of time, we must extend our gratitude to Assemblyman Jack Conners (Chairman, Military & Veteran Affairs), for he has kept our promise to our POWs and MIAs alive.  In fact, he has as kept it alive for the past ten years.  On the third Friday of this month, September 16, 2011, individual veterans and veteran groups of New Jersey will remember the sacrifices of our POWs and MIAs at The Merion in Cinnaminson, New Jersey.  Assemblyman Connors will host the event.

In keeping with this promise, I am sure that there are others who formally mark events in history to keep their memories alive.  I, for one, sponsor a Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day at the VFW Post 2445 in Maple Shade, New Jersey.  I do this every December 7^th at 11 AM, extending the invitation to all who want to remember Pearl Harbor Day, including the school children of Maple Shade learning about American history.

As I’d quoted earlier, “A promise made is a debt unpaid to our POWs and MIAs.”  Remembrance is a good thing, for sacrifice without remembrance is meaningless, lest we forget.

To set the record straight, this writer has to apologize for the title of the article.  But, it seems that no other words can truly express the subject matter.

The Vietnam War was a long conflict between the ideologies of Communism and the Free World.  But unlike our World Wars and Korea, our nation was divided on our participation in this battle.  Many people vehemently and openly opposed the war; some of those who were called to serve did not.  Some became “conscientious objectors” (those who disagree with violence in all forms), while others fled the country to avoid the draft.  Still others went overseas to fight.

With the aftermath of this war, our troops returned to home.  While not hailed as victors, our soldiers were simply happy to return alive. This era of anti-war demonstrations and political unrest ended in President Richard Nixon’s decision to pull us out of Vietnam.  Some political analysts saw this decision as a military defeat.  To the present day, many argue that the war could have been won had our politicians heeded the advice of the military leadership and not bowed to the pressure of the protestors.

Although the war officially ended for America in the jungles of Vietnam, it continued in another vein.  It haunted the hearts and minds of those whose loved ones in the military were classified as missing or prisoners of war.  To this very day, the hunt for MIAs and POWs continues, symbolized by the motto, “We shall never forget.”

In an attempt to shed new light on this still-festering subject, B.G. Burkett and Glenna Whitley collaborated in writing a self-published book entitled, Stolen Valor.  Burkett had served with the 199th Light Infantry Brigade in Vietnam; Whitley was an investigative journalist.  Together, they weave the story of how the Vietnam generation was robbed of its heroes and its history.

In doing so, they have challenged the assertion that Vietnam veterans were broken men and psychopaths.  The authors have countered those allegations with true stories of valor and exposés of the wannabes who disguise themselves as veterans of that war, wearing uniforms and medals to achieve notoriety or political status.   John Kerry comes immediately to mind when speaking of this latter category.

During the 2004 Presidential election, candidate Kerry’s war record came under fire via a book titled, Unfit for Command, by The Swift Boat Veterans for Truth.  In essence, the authors questioned Kerry’s receipt of combat medals, as his injury was too minor to merit an award.  Whether this challenge had any bearing on his loss of bid for office remains unanswered.

Kerry’s record notwithstanding, those who chose to serve their country in this war were caught in the maelstrom of a politically divided nation.  To add insult to injury, amnesty was declared for all those who evaded the draft by leaving the country, rather than fight for it.  These people were welcomed home with open arms.

The Vietnam War brought to light the consequences of war other than those suffered as a result of bullets or hand grenades.  It made the world aware of a toxic chemical weapon known as Agent Orange.  In addition, the war highlighted PTSS (Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome) and its effects upon the men and women fighting under extreme conditions in the jungles and waterways of an ancient land.

A brief synopsis of the Burkett-Whitley book is:

1.      The Image

2.      The Trauma

3.      Stolen Valor

4.      The Victims and Heroes

The work also provides appendices of awards and their recipients.   Lest we forget our heroes of Vietnam, it is well worth the time to read this book and gain an understanding of an era that almost divided a nation.  If you are interested, please visit:

http://www.stolenvalor.com/

Lately, my email system’s in-box has been filled with out-of-the-ordinary messages.  Sadly, the last of these was from the grandson of a dear friend, informing me that his grandfather has passed on.  Thus, I am moved to write this tribute to an extraordinary man who touched my life.

My friend was baptized Nicholas J. Prestipino in 1923.  Nicky, as he would come to be called, was raised in an ethnically mixed South Philadelphia neighborhood, in the vicinity of 10th and Ritner Streets: my neighborhood.  Although he was three years older than I was during the Great Depression, we grew up together and even attended the same schools.  It was during these years that he was nicknamed Nicky Blue, a moniker that would stick with him until he was laid to rest.

En route to our manhood, something happened that would forever change our lives.  When World War II erupted, it subjected men between the ages of 18 and 45 to the draft.  Enlisted into the armed forces, many boys from our neighborhood were called to serve their country.

Nicky was inducted into the Army and trained for the Infantry.  His tour of duty would take him to the theater of war known as China, Burma, and India (CBI).  By chance, two other neighborhood boys serving in an Ordinance company were sent to the same arena.  Their names were Anthony Didio and James (Jimmy) Celotto.

Because of the different branches of the service into which they were inducted, these three young men did not serve together.  Anthony recalls that while stationed in China, he and Jimmy decided one day to visit a local airfield to watch planes arrive and depart for various destinations.  As they watched a plane taxiing along the runway in order to refuel, they were surprised and delighted to see Nicky Blue among the men deplaning.  For a brief period, all three had a joyous reunion.

Nicky told Anthony and Jimmy that he was assigned to Mars Task Force Company G, 475th Regiment, as a heavy machine gunner.  Nick said that his company was bound for Burma to battle the Japanese occupying that country. After the plane refueled, Nick had to climb aboard to continue on in his journey as a gunner. As Anthony and Jimmy watched him board, Anthony turned to Jimmy and said, “This is the last time we’ll see Nicky Blue alive.”

The story of the war in that region proved to have heavy American and Allied causalities; it had been a near impossible task to repel the occupying Japanese.  So vivid and poignant were these stories that Hollywood made two movies about this arm of the war, naming the films Merrill’s Marauders, starring Jeff Chandler, and Objective Burma, with Errol Flynn in the lead role.  Thankfully, Anthony and Jimmy had been wrong about Nicky Blue.  His courage and smarts enabled him to survive what so many had not.

When the atomic bombs were dropped on Japan, World War II came to an abrupt end.  With its end came the return home of those soldiers who had endured this long conflict.  As the boys returned one by one to our neighborhood, they gathered on the corner of 10th and Ritner Streets to re-forge the connection that the war had interrupted. From these informal meetings, Club Gramercy was born.  This was a social club in which we spent many pleasant hours in pursuit of our past.

As time passed, many of the boys — now men — married and drifted away to pursue family life.  But in 1986, two members met across a meat counter in a Northeast Philadelphia supermarket and decided to bring the boys together again.  These two friends were Baby Joe Carabasi and Tony Griffoni.  Through networking, they accomplished the first meeting of 12 friends at the home of Amadea (John) Adelizzi in Palmyra, New Jersey, a conference of sorts for The Boys of 10th and Ritner.

Within six months, our numbers had more than quadrupled.  Fifty-four friends showed up at Vitale’s Restaurant in Northeast Philadelphia for the first official meeting of The Boys from 10th and Ritner.  These meetings continued for more than ten years at Cobblestones Bar & Grill in South Philly.  We celebrated our 10-year anniversary in 1996 at the Coastline Restaurant in Cherry Hill, New Jersey.

Over meals and a little wine, we relived our youth, told war stories and jokes, and shared news of happenings that pertained to us. Today, our members have dwindled to but a few.  Our ages and our accompanying ailments have put up roadblocks to our physical gatherings, but we do keep in touch by phone and email.

When I received the news of Nicky’s death by email, I contacted Joe DeGenova and Anthony Didio to inform them, and to ask them to pass the information on to our other surviving members.  Perhaps not surprisingly, both Joe and Anthony had the same response when hearing the news: “I can’t believe that Nicky Blue is gone!”  Neither could I, because Nicky had always had that “larger than life” personality. 

My wife and I used to gather with special friends every July at the Golden Inn in Avalon, New Jersey.  One year we were introduced to a new couple that spent the weekend with us.  In conversation, they told us that they resided in Hammonton, New Jersey.  This caused me to ask if they knew Nicky Blue Prestipino.  With a broad smile on his face, the husband   replied, “Everybody knows Nicky Blue!”  Indeed, Nicky seemed to touch the lives of all whom he encountered.

An unforgettable person, just saying that nickname, “Nicky Blue,” brings a smile to my face and the face of anyone who knew him.  Nicky has become a legend amongst family and friends. Not just an ordinary person, he exhibited extraordinary courage fighting in the jungles of Burma during the war, and the memories of that war haunted him until the end.  Perhaps that is why Nicky still retained his great zest for life.

In my last conversation with Joe DeGenova, as we reflected upon our lives, Joe told me:

“Treasure your yesterdays.

Dream your tomorrows.

And live your todays.”

I know Nicky Blue lived his life by that motto. A beloved member of The Boys of 10th and Ritner, he will be greatly missed by the surviving members of our group.  We offer the final salute in saying “Goodbye, Nicky Blue,” as we have to all of our members who preceded him into the Kingdom of Heaven.

For some of us, June 6, 1944 is nothing more than a random date in history. But for others, that date will never be forgotten. Field Marshall Erwin Rommel (a.k.a., The Desert Fox) of the Axis forces had predicted that June 6, 1944 would prove to be the longest day in history. Rommel was right. Known now as D-Day, June 6, 1944 was the day on which one of the most epic battles of the Second World War was waged. The outcome of what occurred that day would determine ultimate victory, or ultimate defeat, in that long, bloody conflict.

They say that time heals all wounds. But there are some survivors of that battle who cannot speak of it — for the things that they witnessed and the things in which they participated were unspeakable. Those who can verbally relate the scene at Normandy that day describe it tersely as ranging from “sheer hell” to “pandemonium.” But words are inadequate to describe the feelings of the men on the beach that day, the sands that would later bear the name “Bloody Omaha.”

Omaha Beach, in Normandy, France, was more than a strategic territory in the war; it was vital, for it linked the Allied Forces in their efforts against their Axis foes. For Rommel, it did turn out to be the longest day. The Allies’ victory at Omaha enabled them to secure a stronghold upon Fortress Europe; in less than a year, they would achieve victory in Europe.

But it was a victory that came with enormous sacrifice.

Most who landed on the beach that day were young, green soldiers with little or no combat experience. Many of them were Americans, joined by their fellow British soldiers-in-arms. There was nothing to prepare these young men for the horror into which they were about to step, a merciless attack from their enemies.

From the deck of the American battleship Augusta, General Omar Bradley watched the nightmare unfold. After witnessing the initial carnage, he made preparations to abandon the assault. But as fate would have it, a company of Rangers arrived as critical fortification.

Today, the beaches of Normandy are silent, but the memories linger on. Each year on the anniversary of D-Day, French locals, families of the deceased, and veterans of that war gather to honor and respect their fallen heroes and loved ones.

To the veterans who survived the war, and who fought on the beaches, in the jungles, and in the deep waters of the oceans, D-Day serves as a reminder of their contributions to World War II. With the sobering memories of June 6, 1944 also comes a sense of pride, for having worn the uniform of the United States military. And with that pride come prayers for our casualties of war.

The old refrain of the song “The Way We Were” tells us that, “what’s too painful to remember, we simply choose to forget.” And, yet, we will never forget D-Day and those who made amazing sacrifices to the cause of freedom.

This article is dedicated to Corporal Carmine S. Farnolo, who was there at Omaha Beach. Carmine was attached to the 9th Army Air Corps, 409th Flight Group, 512th Squad. Now 86 years old and fast approaching his 87th birthday, Carmine remembers D-Day with utter clarity. But those memories live in his heart, for he is among those who will not speak of that day.

The video presented below was made in memory of all those lost in war both past and present.  I hope this video touches everyone who has lost someone in their lives.  It’s not only a tribute to those who put their lives on the line each and every day for we as a people, it’s also for all the sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, grandfathers and grandmothers and our friends that were taken from us too soon.  May their memories live on in our hearts for all time.  If you’ve lost a loved one feel free to leave a tribute to them in the comments.  Here’s to all the heroes in heaven.  May their memories never be forgotten.

Song is sung by Jo Dee Messina… lyrics below…

I came by today to see you

I just had to let you know

If I knew the last time that I held you was the last time

I’d have held you, and never let go

Oh, it’s kept me awake nights, wondering

I lie in the dark, just asking why

I’ve always been told

You won’t be called home

Until it’s your time

I guess heaven was needing a hero

Somebody just like you

Brave enough to stand up

For what you believe

And follow it through

When I try to make it make sense in my mind

The only conclusion I come to

Is heaven was needing a hero

Like you

I remember the last time I saw you

Oh, you held your head up proud

I laughed inside

When I saw how you were standing out in the crowd

Your such a part of who I am

Now that part will just be void

No matter how much I need you now

Heaven needed you more

Cause heaven was needing a hero

Somebody just like you

Brave enough to stand up

For what you believe

And follow it through

When I try to make it make sense in my mind

The only conclusion I come to

Is heaven was needing a hero

Like you

Is Heaven was needing a hero

and that’s you

Because many towns and cities claim to be the birthplace of Memorial Day, the exact origin of this holiday remains vague.  Originally named Decoration Day, we do know that Memorial Day has Southern roots.  It began when groups of Southern women decorated the graves of Confederate soldiers during and after the Civil War.  “Kneel Where Our Loves Are Sleeping,” a hymn published in 1867 by Nella L. Sweet, was sung during the commemorative ceremonies.  However, Decoration Day was neither recognized nor treated as a special day.

In the wake of the Civil War, a great rift continued to exist between the North and South, as did the need to honor the fallen soldiers on both sides of the Mason-Dixon Line.  Reconciliation between the two sides was critical to our national healing process.

General John A. Logan, Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, began that process.  On May 5, 1868 Logan announced the establishment of Memorial Day.  On May 30th of that year, the graves of both Union and Confederate soldiers were decorated, for the first time, at Arlington Cemetery.

The State of New York officially recognized the holiday in 1873; by 1890, the other Northern States had embraced it.  The South, however, continued to observe a separate day.  After World War I, Memorial Day assumed a broader meaning.  Proclaimed a national holiday, its intent was to honor the fallen soldiers of all wars.

In 1915, Moina Michael, who was inspired by the poem “In Flanders Field,” penned her own paean to our troops:

We cherish, too, the poppy red

That grows on fields where valor led.

It seems to signal to the skies

That blood of heroes never dies.

Moina sold poppy flowers to benefit our servicemen in need.  Her devotion, coupled with her poem, gave birth to the practice of wearing poppies in our lapels in observance of Memorial Day.

A French woman named Madam Guerin then copied this practice as a means of generating funds for the Franco-American Children’s League, which supported orphans in France and Belgium.  A year later, when  the League disbanded, Madam Guerin reached out to the VFW (Veterans of Foreign Wars) for assistance.  Thus, the VFW became the first veterans’ organization to sell Buddy Poppies made by disabled veterans nationwide.  In 1948, the United States Postal Service honored Ms. Michael for her role in founding the National Poppy Movement with a three-cent stamp bearing her likeness.

Over the years, America has drifted away from traditional customs, and Memorial Day is one such casualty.  Ironically, it was our government that initiated the loss of Memorial Day as a way of honoring the men and women who made the supreme sacrifice for our country.

In 1971, Congress enacted P.L. 90-363, which stated that Memorial Day would henceforth be celebrated on the last Monday in May, in order to ensure a three-day holiday weekend.   It also guaranteed that businesses would rake in extra cash by hosting Memorial Day blowout sales.  The VFW and other veteran groups responded to P.L. 90-363 by telling our legislators that changing the date simply to accommodate a three-day holiday weekend would undermine the very meaning of the day.  Congress’ act has contributed directly to the public’s nonchalant observance of Memorial Day.

On January 19, 1999 Senator Inouye introduced a bill to the Senate (S-189) in order to return Memorial Day to its original date of May 30th.  Exactly three months later, Representative Gibbons introduced virtually the same bill, H.R. 1474, to the House.   Both bills were referred to the Judiciary Committee and the Committee on Government Reform.  To date, the bills are still languishing.   I guess they’re not good for business.

In December 2000, in an effort to restore public awareness, President Clinton issued a directive to have a voluntary moment of silence at 3 PM on Memorial Day.

Despite these efforts, Congress sought to hijack yet another day of observance when it attempted to convert Veterans Day to a three-day holiday weekend.  Met with stiff opposition by veterans’ groups, the attempt did not succeed.

American traditions are constantly challenged for the sake of the Almighty Buck.  If our days of observance vanish completely, it will be because our lawmakers failed to understand that Sacrifice without remembrance is meaningless.

To those of you born into the greatest generation of our time, you know the game Monopoly as the family entertainment of its era.  But what you may not know is that, strangely enough, this game was used to help the Allied Forces win World War II.

In 1941, after being shot down and captured, many British airmen found themselves involuntary guests of the Third Reich.  With RAF (Royal Air Force) in short supply of pilots, the British military began to craft plans for the captured pilots’ escape and return to duty.

Fearing nothing but fear itself, the resourceful Brits had planned to have information available to all captured RAF pilots.  This data included maps marked with safe havens that would afford food and shelter once the pilots had escaped the camps and been repatriated to England.  By necessity, the medium that contained this vital information had to be both concealed and durable.

Paper was initially considered as the medium, but it did not meet the qualifications of durability.  Then, someone in MI-5 (British OSS) came up with the idea of printing the information on silk.  The material was durable, easily concealed, and met all the qualifications.

The search for a manufacturer capable of printing on silk brought them to the only company to have perfected this process: John Waddington, Ltd.  When asked to do the job, the firm graciously accepted in order to help the war effort.  But, by sheer coincidence, John Waddington, Ltd. also was the U.K. licensee of the popular American board game, Monopoly.

This strange coincidence laid the groundwork for conveying escape material via the Red Cross, which included pastime games in the care packages that it sent to prisoners of war.  Thus, did Monopoly put the icing on the cake for one of the most effective escape weapons ever contrived.

In collaboration, the British Intelligence and Waddington, Ltd. selected a group of workers sworn to secrecy.  This cadre began mass producing the maps for camps in every region in which RAF prisoners were held.  When the maps were produced, they could be folded into tiny dots and inserted in Monopoly playing pieces.  In addition to this inspired genius, the clever workers managed to add the following:

• A playing token containing a small magnetic compass,
• Two metal components that could be screwed together to fashion a metal file, and
• Useful amounts of genuine high-denomination currency (German, Italian, and French), hidden in piles 
      of Monopoly money packs.

British and American pilots were advised that a small red dot located in the Free Parking section on the game board, appearing as nothing more than a printing error, distinguished the games that contained vital information.  The utmost of secrecy surrounded this brilliant strategy.  None who came to use the information for escape purposes divulged it.  Until 2007, every pilot who had used the secreted data to escape the Axis Forces kept this true wartime tale confidential.  Of the 35,000 escaped WWII POWs, approximately one-third attributed their return to duty to the game of Monopoly!

Hollywood has produced movies about POWs, such as the “Great Escape and Stalag 17.”  But, due to secrecy, the filmmakers never new about the special Monopoly games.

After declassification in 2007, in a public ceremony, John Waddington, Ltd. and the surviving members of the select group of craftsmen were honored for their contributions.   So, the next time you play Monopoly and draw a “Get out of jail free card,” give consideration to the double entrendre and the small, wondrous piece of history that you hold in your hand. 

Many nations have had their defining moments in time; history recalls their distinctions.  America’s moment began with the signing of the Declaration of Independence and reached its peak with World War II.  This global conflict inspired our country to rise to the occasion, despite its not being prepared at the onset of the war.  To bring to fruition President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s vision of winning “the inevitable victory, so help us God,” many men, women, and children got involved in the war effort.

To create formidable armed forces, Congress enacted the draft, whereby able-bodied men between the ages of 18 and 45 were inducted into military service.  America was also compelled to retool industries to build the equipment and manufacturer the supplies that we needed to conduct war.  Leaders of government and industry joined forces to attain this monumental objective that came to be known as, “The Arsenal of Democracy.”  This Arsenal supplied not only our own troops but also those of our Allies, who were sorely in need of war materials.

Throughout the four bloody years of World War II, many acts of heroism were performed.  Some of our military personnel received commendations for their actions; some did not.  This is a tale of a man in the latter category, an unsung hero.

When my brother Rocco turned 18, he received a letter from the local draft board ordering him to appear for a physical examination prior to his induction into the armed forces.  However, Rocco was rejected for military duty via the designation of 4-F (“unfit for combat”).

Rocco did not like the label of 4-F, so he decided to make a contribution in the way that he knew best.  He was attending Bok Vocational School in South Philadelphia at the time, studying to become a skilled laborer, a machinist.  As a top student, he was proficient in operating various machine tools.  Upon graduation, my brother received the American Legion Award of Excellence for leadership and vocational training.

He then procured a job as a machinist at Clark Cooper Industries, a Palmyra, New Jersey-based manufacturer of vital hardware for the U.S. Navy.  After his job ended for the day, back at Bok Vocational, Rocco instructed war workers concerning the use of various machine tools.  He continued this voluntary service until the war ended.

Always an achiever, Rocco managed to put himself through Drexel Institute to study Mechanical Engineering.  Twelve years of college taking night classes earned him a Bachelor’s Degree in Mechanical Engineering.   He was elevated to plant engineer by Clark Cooper upon attainment of the degree.  During his pursuit of the degree, Rocco was elevated to Shop Foreman at Clark Cooper, married his lovely wife, and brought a daughter into the world.

After the war, Clark Cooper Industries was sold, and the new owners planned to move the business out of State.  My brother was asked to make the move, but Rocco denied the request because of his strong family ties.

Rocco later procured a job at the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard’s Naval Air Station.  The Station’s expertise focused on the launching and arresting gear used on aircraft carriers.  My brother’s skill and work ethic earned him recognition as a quality-oriented, cost effective engineer.  For a while, the Station utilized him as a troubleshooter.  In this capacity, he toured many shipyards nationwide, instructing personnel and repairing assigned gear.

Rocco was once asked to provide the gear necessary to land a helicopter on a destroyer as the ship rolled and pitched in the sea.  The strategy was to extend the security range of a fleet consisting of battleships, cruisers, and destroyers charged with protecting vulnerable aircraft carriers.  An additional helicopter would extend the security perimeter around the carriers.

My brother’s direct contribution was to design an optical system that allowed the chopper pilot to view a green-colored light.  This light provided the correct angle on which to land the helicopter on the rolling aircraft carrier.  Asked to name his invention, one of Rocco’s colleagues suggested that he name it the RP-1 in his honor.

The unit that Rocco devised was attached to a destroyer.  After a shakedown cruise, it was hailed a success.  The ship’s captain announced, “The unit will stay with my ship.  Build another one for somebody else’s ship!”

In 1974, the Naval Air Station at Philadelphia was moved to Lakehurst, New Jersey, a situation that concerned many engineers who could not make the move due to transportation issues.  Ever the problem solver, Rocco contacted the Philadelphia Transportation Agency to arrange a bus schedule to accommodate the workers requiring transportation to Lakehurst.  From Monday through Friday, the engineers assembled at Broad and Oregon Avenue at a predestined time and from there, proceeded to Lakehurst.  The bus waited at Lakehurst to carry the engineers back home.   Mission accomplished!

My brother was subsequently elevated to Acting Branch Manager, a position that he held until he retired in 1988.  Upon his retirement, U.S. Navy brass at Lakehurst honored him with a testimonial dinner at the Cherry Hill Inn.  My brother Anthony and I, and our wives, were among the honored guests.  Adapting a Father Guido Sarducci persona, the chaplain roasted my brother to the cheers and laughter of all.  I called it the icing on the cake, which Rocco richly deserved

In Rocco’s honor, I entered his name into the World War II Registry, which recognizes military personnel as well as civilians that helped win the war.

Always a perfectionist in everything he undertook, yet very humble concerning his accomplishments, Rocco demonstrated leadership and love of family and country, qualities that are sorely lacking in many of our leaders today.  The stories of the unsung heroes of World War II are the legacies of those who put country first, those like my brother and thousands of others across this nation.  These were the men behind the Arsenal of Democracy, the men who helped us win the inevitable victory that FDR had envisioned.

With all the troubles in this world causing such doom and gloom in so many countries, and echoed by the media, one has to stop and wonder what the future holds for this planet.  Its Creator had a vision of “peace on earth, good will towards men.”  But that all flew out the window when he gave man free will and the very first representative of our race, Adam, failed the apple test.

I like to keep up with current events, but I have to admit that most of it is redundant rhetoric providing no real solutions. Soon, no doubt, Hollywood will probably make a motion picture depicting our way of life as seen through the eyes of innocence and making it all so politically correct.

I am also losing interest in the emails clogging my mailbox, bearing urgent “Forward” messages to alert all of my contacts of the impending catastrophes that will occur if I don’t heed the command to do so.  In days of old, before the Internet, news traveled at the speed of the carrier, whether it was pigeon, horseback, vehicular, or by air.

In today’s rapidly moving world, through the eyes of television and radio waves that are faster than a speeding bullet, we can watch and hear a man yelling “Fire!” in Katmandu, while keeping one eye on a sporting event.  It’s amazing!  I wonder what the Creator must be thinking now.  Hmm, could it be something along the lines of, “Where did I go wrong?”

In the midst of all this turmoil and media bombardment, America needs a few good men to illuminate the path to the Creator’s dream.  We need men made of the spirit of humility, kindness, and integrity, but where can we find them?

Strangely enough, in an email that actually contained some positive news, I learned about a Hollywood actor that visited our wounded warriors at Brooks Army Medical Center in San Antonio, Texas. This is a military convalescent facility that receives the wounded arriving from Germany. During this actor’s visit, he and his family toured one of the Fisher Houses on the base that are designated for families of the wounded during their recovery.

What he saw must have seen deeply touched his soul.  He asked how much it had cost to build this establishment.  After hearing the price, he took out his checkbook and donated a check in that exact amount.  Denzel Washington is one of a few good men that not only donated his time, but contributed to a worthy cause in honoring our troops.

One would think that the news media would have aired this act of generosity.  But it only received recognition in a local newspaper in San Antonio, Texas.  However, I am sure that the soldiers and their families at the Brooks Army Medical Center will never forget it.  We could use a few more good men like Denzel Washington.