Daddy was a lieutenant with The Army Corp of Engineers. As best as I could understand it, he and his men built and repaired airfields, roads, and bridges. As far as I know, they did not engage in direct battle, although they may have had to defend themselves.
Update 2024: Daddy was one of the three commanders of an all-Black Engineer Battalion, one of a handful that actually went overseas. Company B, 847. (insert photo)
Everything about his involvement is vague, to say the least. He told us a few stories which are now little more than sketchy memories.
Before he shipped overseas, he was either on a military transport train to Florida that wrecked, or was in the vicinity when it wrecked. Regardless, he was involved in trying to rescue people from the burning wreckage. He saved at least one young girl. This experience left a deep scar on his psyche. He was never able to recount the event without getting very emotional.
In fact, Daddy was never able to tell any story about the war without getting very emotional. That's why we never heard that much, I guess. It's only recently that I realized he no doubt suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.
There were a couple of stories that he could tell without getting teary, like the time he went out and shot a deer and brought it back to his troops for them to eat. Or the time that he and his men stayed in a castle, in Austria. He apparently won over the owners because we have photos of him partying with them. He looks very suave and debonair. Quite relaxed.
Sissy and I found quite a few photos of women, as well as cards and letters from women to Daddy, in his sacred foot locker. I'm looking forward to giving everything a thorough going through upon my return and once it is in my possession. I should find some really good material for this blog. Or, at least, be able to fill in some gaps.
Everything about his involvement is vague, to say the least. He told us a few stories which are now little more than sketchy memories.
Before he shipped overseas, he was either on a military transport train to Florida that wrecked, or was in the vicinity when it wrecked. Regardless, he was involved in trying to rescue people from the burning wreckage. He saved at least one young girl. This experience left a deep scar on his psyche. He was never able to recount the event without getting very emotional.
In fact, Daddy was never able to tell any story about the war without getting very emotional. That's why we never heard that much, I guess. It's only recently that I realized he no doubt suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.
There were a couple of stories that he could tell without getting teary, like the time he went out and shot a deer and brought it back to his troops for them to eat. Or the time that he and his men stayed in a castle, in Austria. He apparently won over the owners because we have photos of him partying with them. He looks very suave and debonair. Quite relaxed.
Sissy and I found quite a few photos of women, as well as cards and letters from women to Daddy, in his sacred foot locker. I'm looking forward to giving everything a thorough going through upon my return and once it is in my possession. I should find some really good material for this blog. Or, at least, be able to fill in some gaps.
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