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Life of Steve Joseph Chapla Autobiography
My oldest sister Violet and Louise were born there: Violet 2-7-1910, Louise 3-27-1911. My mother left from Poland, thence left from Bremen, Germany & arrived in the US at New York Mar. 15, 1907 in the ship SS Main.
My Mother and father left Pennsylvania and settled in ironwood MI, Geneva was born 12-3-1913. Lucian 5-23-1915. Steve 9-11-17, Bob 5-24-19. Betty 5-23-1922. Chester 3-29-23. Our Poland family was named Czapla. Vi Valeria, Louise Stephanie, Geneva Genevius, Lucian, Lutek, Steve, Stefan, Bob, Boleslav, Betty, Wanda. Several were born in ironwood, remainder in Bessemer, MI, 10 miles from ironwood.
Vi was placed with a family named Brown a sister to a family named Reynolds who got Louise. Geneva also for awhile lived with Browns. Betty was placed with very wealthy people in Chicago named Grey. These were during the years 1921 through 1929.
While living with a family named Methias at Columbia City, they had a 40-acre farm where at first at 14 he wanted to keep me out of school. I did finally attend Larwell H.S. Got in roughly 2 years when in 1933 I ran away with 15cens in my pocket.
Mrs. Matthias was severely crippled with arthritis so I was to put to work cleaning house, helping with kitchen chores, milked 9 cows, mowed the lawn you name it. All this time I had no friends my age to associate with. And no inkling where my family was. I finally got into little arguments that made me want to get away.
The first time I got a few clothes together hiked a mile or so down the hwy, got scarred and went into a field, slept or tried to sleep with my head in a suitcase. Got up cause I was cold from the dew and dampness. Hiked back to the farm, went into the barn a started to milk the cows. Mr. Matthias came in didn’t say anything though he must have suspected something. I couldn’t really get too angry with him. He was I know heartbroken with his wife at 32 badly crippled.
The depression hit about Nov. of 1929. Nobody had much money. Couldn’t sell anything for a decent price. There were really tough times. People today don’t know how rough it can be. I tried to sell crickets, fishworms to earn a little money. The first time I earned a couple of dollars. I remember I collected 500 fish worms put them in a washtub, placed them in a damp cool spot in the basement. Later I bravely put out a sign worms for sale. Well I was in for a real shocker. The first customer helped me to carry the tub outside dumping the works in a piece of canvas. Well it’s hard to believe instead do 5000, there must have been I swear several millions. The bottom of the tub was a solid layer if worms a couple of inches thick. The customer had eyes as big as saucers.
Mr. Matthias had what I believed at the time two very beautiful sisters. One married a wealthy man in Ft. Wayne. The other a wealthy paper executive in Chicago. Both golfers with fancy shoes. They gave me several pairs. I had the best shoes in school and fancy ones.
Now back to my second try at running away. As I said earlier, I had 15 cents in my pocket an old suit on and several items in a suit case one of which was Dad’s school photo). This was in the middle of July 1933. I started down the hwy got a few rides got as far as Joliet Ill. Meanwhile, I was very hungry, lonely, had no idea where to go. Being desperate, I finally approached a big building, knocked on a door and a Catholic nun answered, asking me what I wanted. I was quite bashful told her I hadn’t eaten was very hungry and was willing to work for something to eat. She said wait here, in the meantime I could see down stairs through a basement window where a bunch of girls were working. Shortly the nun came out with a large platter of food. I insisted I work or t. her reply “young man, Go with God” and I pray you find your family. I guess the girls down below were staring at me wondering what a young guy like me doing there.
Well that food lasted and sure hit an empty belly. In the vicinity of Joliet a goy approached me and said “Hi kid. Where you going?” I don’t rightly know I answered. Well he said go with me / I’ll show you how to get around hitchhiking is for the birds. He showed me how to jump on a freight train. This car had timbers plied on it and I was wearing the old wool suit. The constant juggling of the car was pretty hard in my rear and wore a hole in my seat. At the first stop off, I was embarrassed and had to think of something. Now don’t laugh. I was really bashful but I approached a small house near the tracks a woman came out. I explained my predicament. She was very sympathetic and mended my pants while I stood in a closet.
I learned being with this traveling companion a few things about signs on fences or houses; hobo cam[s, etc. We traveled across Minnesota after leaving Iowa behind, then started into South Dakota. I told the guy I had enough. I’m going back into Minnesota. I noticed green fields maturing there and I really wanted to find work, so I backtracked and got off a train in Springfield, Minn. It was getting late, lots of farmers and families were in town shopping. I approached a café asked him if any farmers were looking for help. He was very helpful, said yes thrashing is coming into season, meantime I
I'll ask around and since it is chilly, go down to the jail and ask the custodian to give you a cot and I’ll contact you later. About 9:00 PM the cop introduced me to an elderly couple needing a hired man. Me at 17. Still remember their names. Mr. And Mrs. John Voltine. They had 350 acres and I was to handle a team of horses. The next morning I had a mishap. Their farm was split in two with a railroad thru the middle, with a ramp steep and broken and trees on both sides of the track. Just as I started up over the ramp, a train rushed by with a loud whistle. The horses vaulted and almost lost complete control of them. Several men came running to help. A long wooden member called a reach snapped in two so we had to make a quick repair so I could go into the field and load up with oat shocks.
Mr. Voltine was a member if a thrashing ring. Each team would load up come up to the thrashing machine and pitch in the shocks. When this farmer was all threshed out we moved over t the next neighbor and so on until this ring was finished. Each day the women would congregate at the farmer being worked at and such a spread of foods that was fabulous. The next farmer down the line was William Vecans. Form there a Leonard Weiss then Matt Farbs.
An interesting thing about Mr. And Mrs. Farbes was that they were “newlyweds” His father was quite a large landowner. His father was quite a large landowner. He made it a practice when a son was married, he presented the couple with 160 acres of land, complete with house, barns, 4 horses, 10 cows and enough machinery to start off on their own. What a wedding present. Great thing about these people. They were very trusting – all more or less had guns, so I was invited to use any gun for hinting. Plenty of ammo available. This was a memorable time for me as pheasants were so darn numerous. You didn’t know what to do with all of them. Along with prairie chickens, they were considered pests by the farmers. I scraped together enough of my earnings to buy my “1st” car (picture) a 1929 ford roadster with a rumble seat for $75.00.
I was earning from $2.00 to $5.00 a day husking corn by hand, plus board and room. Sat. evenings I would go into town to listen to a band, a concertina band. Concertina being the lead instrument. Tractors were scarce, horses being mostly used. Vecans was the one tractor owner I knew.
Year 1934. I decided to sell the car for $56.00 and a wristwatch. I hitch hiked back to Indiana. I reached South bend, took a taxi to Elkhart. Somehow I knew that Louise was there. Can’t remember how I found out, Anyhow if was late – about 2 AM. I rapped n the door, and Louise stuck her head out through a 2nd story window. Asked who is there. I answered “Steve”. Was she flabbergasted – exclaimed where did you come from? Well the following morning at the breakfast table, Reynolds asked me to live with them. I agreed and he got me a job at the “Old Superior Coal and ice Co.”
He, another fellow a boyfriend of Louise, and myself ran the whole plant in three shifts. I had the night shift. I was taught how to operate the three big diesel compressor engines. Each had a fly wheel about 6 “ in diameter. The plant produced blocks of ice about 300 lbs. Each, and tons daily. Living with Reynolds was somewhat of an embarrassment because Reynolds lied to Louise about her real mother, and never contacted any of our real family.
I forgot to mention while at the ice plant a big surprise. Lucian showed up out of thin air – told me where my mother lived in South Bend, so I decided to go and meet her.
A break to relate my mother had married the second time in 1924 to John Kobiec, the father of laDine, a half sister, Ted a half brother, and Alex, a half brother.
This was 1934 and the kids were all little tots then. M mother and I had a happy reunion – hadn’t seen each other in years. I gave her some money and I went back to Elkhart. Getting there I caught “Holy Hell” from Reynolds. “Where have you been? “I told them I went to see my mother. Can you imagine the answer I got? “Don’t ever go back there to see her again. “ I blew up and said Okay; I’ll leave in the morning. They agreed with me and I said I’m leaving. Louise didn’t even back me up. She was sure brainwashed. I hadn’t seen my mother in about 14 years.
During the time I was with Reynolds, after the closure of the ice plant, Reynolds and I went to work for “Bach’s Welding and boiler repair shop” in Elkhart. He and I on different occasions checked out various plant boilers, had some of the big units delivered to the repair ship where we repaired them and re-installed them. I learned how to install stokers, build fireboxes, and install oil burners. The worst was traveling (?) asbestos over screens applied to large boilers. I hated this not realizing at the time the health hazards involved. Eventually I grew restless and wanted a change so went to C. G. Conns Musical Instrument factory and applied for a job there. (1939?)
The years 1935 or 1936 is when I left Reynolds and went to South Bend to live with my Mother. John Kobiec had a city job at that time a 30-hour week and $1.00/hour. He drank heavily – didn’t support my mother as he should have so I got his job at the time, excavating and installing 20” water mains. It was while on the job on Walnut street South Bend.
We were approached by the foreman telling us if we worked overtime, 10 hours that day, we could have the rest of the week off. No cribbing was used making the job dangerous. Many times there were cave ins, several men getting caught up to their waist. I was unlucky while down in the pit with my legs wrapped around the pipe and leaning over inspecting a joint. The side caved in and completely buried me. I was scared and almost in shock. My head caught alongside a gas pipe, this I believe saved me from all the weight, but for a colored guy working with me, I would have no doubt died.
The guy had walked away and heard the sides fall in, got help quick and the rest of the crew about 10 men shoveled like mad to get to me. If it weren’t so serious it was a little funny. When they got to my head, they tried to pull to free me. No go. They had to dig all the way to the pipe, my legs still wrapped around it, to get me free. A shovel I had with me was pressing against my leg. All that dirt against the shovel almost broke my one leg. I can still feel the pain and agony and still dream of the close shave – one of my worst experiences.
The foreman begged not to mention this incident – would have cost his job. Today I could have sued for plenty.
1936 My oldest sisters husband George Simons suggested a trip to California to look for work. Originally George, Lucian and I had agreed to go, but at the last, George’s cousin wanted to go also. Well to complicate things, Vi insisted on going also with two infant kids. Can you imagine seven of us with belongings making the trip in a small whippet roadster (picture) like a model A Ford with a rumble seat? It was t trip to write about -–break down after break down.
Lucian and I had worked for as little as 50 cents an hour to raise money for the trip. We had about $150 to $200 between us. What aggravated the trip was having two babies along. Us guys could have roughed it more, but as things went, Lucian and I went broke by the time we got to LA. Costello, George’s cousin, we learned years later, had at least $400 or more stashed away and still didn’t contribute little or nothing to the trip. Arriving in LA we were met with a “go away” attitude by George’s relatives, we have enough problems. Lucian and I tried desperately to find work, it was a tough time and we finally gave up. (I want to talk about all 3 having to sit at one time together in the rumble seat and how Steve and Lucian walked for hours to get to a job – working then not getting paid - from Steve’s oral stories).
We were met by a city official who asked us if we cared to go back to South Bend and that they would stand the expenses. We agreed and through the generosity of LA we were put on the Santé Fe Railroad, trip and all meals paid for. The pursers at South Bend gave Lucian and I enveloper that had money left over from the trip.
We got back to South Bend in the dead of winter. First job Lucian and I got was sweeping switches on the railroad during a blizzard. It was 19 degrees below and we could only stay out 10 minutes at a time, run for a hut to keep from freezing. The wind was really howling and the switches froze up fast as we cleaned them. Lucian finally got into the Studebaker Auto factory in SB. I got into the band instrument factory in Elkhart (CG Conns.
It was there about 1940 that I met June Olson in a blind date. I was told she was heavy, etc. I was to meet her and her mother down town in Elkhart. Well I was really surprised. She wasn’t fat and had a beautiful auburn hair. Well we hit it off and started to date, eventually getting engaged. In February of 1941 I was drafted into the army. Prior to this while at CG Conns, I was engaged in the manufacture of clarinet keys.
**Author’s note: In researching through documents, I have found some details, especially regarding Steve’s family, to be incorrect and have changed them in the book. Because Antonina could not speak English well, even in the 1950’s when she became naturalized, there is a lot of misinformation on her Naturalization Paper and other paperwork.
Interestingly, the ship Antonina immigrated on was really the S.S. Bremen. Whether she was saying the name wrong, or the person taking the information was hearing it wrong, this is an example of the kinds of misinformation, which made the research more difficult. Another example was that in which my Dad said Louise was born near Vicksburg. The real name was Wilkes-Barre.”
History of Incidents, Annals, etc. Self narrated by Steve
Age 1? or maybe 2 – (Ironwood, MI) Severe pneumonia. Life at risk
*Age 3 – (Dowagiac, MI). Fell into a pile of broken glass. Several lacerations to legs below kneecap Heavy scars.
*Age 8 – (at children’s Home in Mishawaka, IN.). Slammed in back of head accidentally, not intentional, I believe, by a boy with a long metal pipe. Fractured scull. Nasty scars back of head.
*Years 25-1929 – (at Children’s Home in Lafayette, IN.). Had many fistfights in a home with approximately 200 boys aged 9-18.
*Years 1929-1933 – (Lived in Foster Home near Columbia City, IN.) Ran away. Hitch Hiking and riding trains to Minnesota, town of Springfield. Worked on farms for a year, then hitch hiked back to Elkhart, Indiana. Lived with family for awhile- named Mr. & Mrs. Reynolds, who had custody of Louise, my sister. While there, worked in an ice plant, trailer repair factory, then a musical instrument factory “C. G. Conn”.
*While in Elkhart, had a date with a family in Chicago. A lady and 18 yr. Old daughter. A man acquainted with the mother “drunk and vicious” started to beat up on the two women I stepped in and floored him with two punches and in a second confrontation (quite disastrous) he tried to hit me with a heavy chair. I backed away, picked up a metal ring burner from the top of the stove, swung at him, broke two legs off of chair; second swipe creamed him on top of the forehead, sending him to hospital. It took 18-20 stitches. I felt bad. Might have killed him. I'm sure he never bothered the girls again.
Daddy’s War Activities Self narrated
(Steve’s Army Narratives)
1940—I was working for C.G. Conn, a musical Instrument Factory, in Elkhart Ind.
Feb. 10, 1941, I was drafted into the U. S. Army. I spent the 1st 10 days at Ft. Benjamin Harrison, Indianapolis. There were 400 men there, just newly drafted. On the 20th, 398 men were ordered to move out and wound up at Fort in Georgia, an infantry division. A guy named Stewart and I had to pack up and walk out to an open field in a blizzard like wind and cold and wait for transportation. Finally when we were about frozen, a locomotive with one car rolled up. We got on and traveled most of the night. We must have picked up some more men – didn’t notice – and wound up at Ft. Knox, Kentucky – home of the newly forming 1st Armored Division.
The first 3 months of training consisted of a solid 30 days of getting acquainted with all types of guns, from a 45-caliber pistol to a 37-mm cannon. We started with a 45-caliber revolver, 45 automated pistol and 45-caliber Tommy gun, and then progressed to a water-cooled 30 caliber machine gun, then an air-cooled machine gun and up to a 50 caliber heavy machine gun. All this time we were firing these guns. Then the 37MM cannon.
We were initiated in various gases – mustard gas, tear gas, and others. Also we had to identify all kinds of planes, plus warships. After all this training, we then graduated into regular line outfits. I was put into the “68th Field Artillery, Armored”. This was one of three Artillery units of the 1st Armored Division. We had around 1000 men in the 68th. Our Battalion had a service battery, three gun batteries, a Head Quarters battery, a medical unit, etc. Each artillery unit had six 105MM self-propelled cannons. 1st Armored had 2 tank regiments. Chester, my brother, was a tank Sargent in the 13th army regiment.
We spent 1 year in Kentucky and the southern United States, training for war. There were 250 thousand men playing war games. There were 2 sides – the Blues and the Reds – simulating real combat without the shooting.
We got back to Ft. Knox after spending several months all through Louisiana, Texas and up through the Carolinas. We were all looking forward to Christmas leave when we got back to Ft. Knox. Well we got back to camp on Dec. 6th, 1941. We were sleeping on bare floors, as our quarters were being renditioned for an Officers Candidate School. Early the next morning came the shocking news: “PEARL HARBOR WAS BEING ATTACKED!” There went our leaves as all were cancelled and we realized we were at war. Back tracking to Ft. Knox - while there, I pulled several types of guard duty. Each guard was assigned three prisoners, for various clean up jobs - trash hauling, street cleaning, etc. One incident I remember was when I was guarding a warehouse. It was raining hard and awfully muddy clay-like gumbo. I came around one corner and caught a guy jumping out of a door. He hit the ramp and was racing out of there. I ordered, “HALT”. The guy’s arms flew up; he back peddled, lost his balance and flopped on his back in all that goo. Later on I thought “What a beautiful shot for a movie”!
Another incident I recalled: I was in charge of the guards in one area and periodically would take a truckload of fresh guards to different posts to relieve the old guards. Well the officer of the day wanted to make the rounds with me. One important post was the ammo dump. When we drove up, there was no guard. He must have been sleeping somewhere. The officer asked me what I was going to do. I placed the fresh guard and told him to be careful. I gave the officer the missing guard’s name and ordered that he be placed under arrest when found. I don’t know what happened to him. It was a serious offence.
The next incident I remember could have been a tragic one. I was guarding the nurse’s quarters one hot summer night. My orders were to stop ANYONE after the 10 PM curfew. Late that night, around 2 AM, I spotted a car racing through. I ran, cut him off and hollered, “HALT” a couple of times. I pointed my 45 right at the windshield and was ready to shoot him. He jammed on the breaks and was so shook up that I had to wait a couple of minutes for him to step out. It turned out he was a black guy wearing a white waiter’s jacket. His explanation: he left officers late evening party and was trying to take a short cut to get home. I told him “You are black. How would anyone feel, you being here in the nurses quarters at this hour?” (At that time this was not accepted.) I could have turned him in, it might have been bad for him, but I believed him and gave him a parting statement. “Next time you ever try this, it will be a short cut to Hell!” Boy, he said thanks and got out of there, PRONTO!”
We were ready to move out from Ft. Knox. Some units drove, while others like the tanks, etc., went by rail. All insignias had to be removed from our vehicles; one man had a 1st Armored logo tattooed on his arm and had it surgically removed. The idea was to hide supposedly, our identity. Would you believe when we drove into Philadelphia, people by the thousands hollered “Welcome, 1st Armored Division!” Someone talked, guess who, not the enlisted men, as we did not know where we were going!
We wound up in Ft. Dix, New Jersey, did some more training, packed gobs of war material, and received the brand new 105 self propelled guns, trucks, etc. I had to go pack up a new 2-½ ton ammo truck assigned to me. I, by the way, was carpenter, had a chauffeur’s license to drive any vehicle in the army excepting motorcycle. That I never understood, as I was a proficient motorcyclist, and used to own a couple of Harley Davidsons.
May 11, 1942, left New York on the Queen Mary. 1st day out, escorted by a cruiser and a bomber, sailed through stormy seas around Iceland. German submarines in the Atlantic would have considered it quite a prize to have tagged us. We depended on speed to get us through. We arrived near Ireland and Scotland several days later, and a half-day out were escorted into a large water inland, by a whole bunch of British Spitfires. We unloaded and were quartered in a British nobleman’s estate, made over part of like barns, and stables with straw mattresses! We were approximately 20 miles south of Belfast, Ireland, in a town called Killy Lea. We were there until late October, training and preparing for our next move.
By the way, Chet was also in the area with his tank unit. He left before I did and wound up landing in North Africa, near Oran, on a secret mission to attack and take a German controlled airfield 50 miles in the interior. My Unit traveled in the middle of the night in a cattle boat across the channel between Ireland and Scotland. No lights, no cigarettes, no talking, and got off on the Scottish side. From there we drove into England and spent one month in Macclas field. We left Nov. 27th at Liverpool, got on a boat, traveled with a large convoy, headed for Africa. We had several U-boat scares. The destroyers protecting us were whooping it up and dropping depth bombs. We passed through Gibraltar, and what a sight. It was night, one side was the African coast, all lit up, the other “Rock of Gibraltar” side all blacked out. We landed at Oran Dec. 6, 1942. We spent Christmas there and left for Tunisia by road. It was several hundred miles. We were involved in combat there against Rommel and his “African Corps”.
While on the front in Africa (Tunisia), had a call down from headquarters that a number of trucks and truck drivers were to be used temporarily to support a heavy push. All vehicles were to be loaded at all times to support artillery and tanks, to support this maximum push. We were under command of a new officer who directed this special drive.
While there we were asked for volunteers to carry water, small arms, and ammo up the mountain to supply a bunch of infantrymen running short of everything. We were directed to leave our guns and anything that rattled, behind – that we were to move under darkness. We had to deliver and get out fast before daylight, as we were unarmed.
The 1st night went well and we were asked to repeat a second trip. This time we didn’t make so good a time, and we had a ways to go during daylight. A young infantry guy along the trail begged for help to bring out three wounded men. I turned and told the guy behind me to come with me. We got to the top of the hill where the infantrymen were barricaded behind stones for protection. An officer said, “What are you two doing here?” I said, “to help wounded men”. Tragically two of the guys did not survive. The third, my buddy and I carried and half walked him all the way down the mountain, and found a 1st aid station. A nurse came out and we said, “take care of this fellow”. He had a head wound and was about out of it.
We I finally rejoined my own unit, the 68th, the Sargent said my captain recommended me for a Silver Star. Well I didn’t feel I did any more and others had done much more. At Kasserine Pass, we took quite a shellacking. We came out on top and wound up with over 200 thousand prisoners. The English eighth army came in from the East and we on the other side. The Germans and Italians gave up and that ended the African phase of the war. For several weeks after that, we all pulled guard duty over the prisoners back in Spanish Morocco. I saw Chester once with his tank unit. He came through with only one tooth missing, “lucky”. ………………………..
We left Africa boarding a ship in Oran, Nov. 14, 1943, headed for Italy. Got there the 17th. We landed at Naples – the harbor was a terrible mess, all docks and wharves blown up and ships sunk with only their masts sticking up. We had to unload on floating pontoons. The dockside buildings were all in ruins. The next day the German bombers came over and did a lot of damage where we were parked or “docked”. One bridge leading to Cassino was heavily guarded by at least a dozen spitfires and was constantly raided by German fighters. We had a bird’s eye view of the “dog fights”.
We usually moved up almost daily until we got to the Rapido River below Cassino. There, we got hung up for weeks, unable to break through. I had a pair of field glasses and finally got a grandstand seat watching several hundred bombers shellack the area around Monte Cassino. In the morning I counted around I believe 300 two engine light bombers dropping bombs and in the afternoon, about 150 four-engine jobs polish off what was left, including the “Monastery”. Quite a sight. The three hundred-year-old monastery was a highly valued piece of real estate – a shame it had to go.
I have to backtrack for an incident that took place in North Africa. When the campaign ended there, we drove across country, back to Rabat. Each day we were to travel approximately 300 miles and stop for the night. One of our lieutenants came to me and requested that I make a special effort to recover one of our sergeants who was in a hospital down the roadway ahead of us. This Sargent had a touch of malaria plus shrapnel wounds from a 20-MM shell fired from a German plane. I was asked to leave my unit, travel across country with my truck, find the hospital …and hijack my Sargent friend from the hospital. I found the hospital, slipped out with the Sargent (unauthorized, of course) and rejoined my outfit. I had plenty of gas as we carried spare 5-gallon cans. Quite an experience!
While in Italy, a sergeant serviced a stove for our unit Captain. In his tent, he used a gallon of gas in front of his stove, ignited it and the flames would roar up the stove igniting the wet charcoal. On turning, the sergeant kicked the gas can over on the fire and on the floor around the stove. Out came the Captain like a horse with his tail on fire. Well, but for the seriousness of it, it was really funny. Then shortly after, I was cutting down a small 3 or 4-inch tree hanging over the tent right over the Captain’s desk. A wind caught the tree, twisted it and it fell and collapsed the corner of the tent, on top of the captain and his desk. Out he came again, doing a 50-yard dash in seconds, and then I caught HELL! Despite the war going on, there was always an element of humor here and there.
Back in Italy, my outfit split up in three - the first two boarded a boat and landed at Anzio. The remainder was headed there next trip. We had to clean up and pack up everything for this move. We were short handed, so most of us pulled guard, which I usually wasn’t required to do. My Tommy gun had a 10 round clip in it, but none in the breech. It was late in the evening and getting dark. I leaned over and somehow the operating lever got caught in a tent rope, snapped the lever back and the gun slammed a shell in the breech. All ten rounds went off. The first six caught me – three low in the groin, one in the side of my chest and one in my arm and right shoulder.
Later on an investigation showed a faulty seer causing the gun to discharge. Unluckily for me, it cost about 10 operations in all and nearly a total of 3 years on hospitalization. The original Tommy I carried was a well-built, high quality gun. The newer one was a factory run model with cheaper parts, some stamped – a fast production model. Nevertheless, I was out of it and spent several months in the hospital in Naples. I left Italy Aug. 4, 1944 and got back to the states on Aug. 7, 1944. I wound up in a hospital in Indiana at Camp Atterbury. I was medically discharged in Sept. of 1945.
……………………………………… For the first couple of years, I was very thin and weak. I married your grandma June, maiden name Donna June Olson, January 27th, 1945, while I was still in the Hospital. I worked awhile at C. G. Conn music factory, but disliked the routine there and went into construction. Can you imagine “me” going into house building, carpentry, and masonry? I thought I’d never tough it through.
Now I’m retired of course, with some problems still bug me from the injuries; my back and pelvis area still ache. All this about brings me to date.
Lucian, my oldest brother was a sailor on the U.S. Welles, a destroyer in the Pacific. His ship endured Kamikaze attacks, terrible typhoons, and some terrific battles with some of the Japanese ships. He survived, got married, and had two children, Gerald and Roselyn. Alice, his wife survives. Lucian died several years ago. Chester’s first wife died years ago. He remarried and lives in South Bend. My brother Bob, a Lieutenant and flight engineer, on a B29 made a number of raids on Japan and was lost on a raid over Tokyo. His plane was never found, so no information is available, as to what happened to his plane or his crew. He was lost the same day your Grandma and I were married, January 27th, 1945.
Ted Kobiec, a half brother, got into the service late and wound up an M.P. in Europe. Married and has several children, all married so far as I know. His wife is named Helen. They live in Mishawka. Alex the youngest boy, in our family joined the Air Force worked his way up and retired a Lt. Colonel. He had an interesting career. He was flying as a civilian pilot for the Royal Family in Saudi Arabia, for I believe 10 years. Traveled all over the world doing 2-year stints by way of transfers, while in the Air Force. He is now retired, lives with his wife, Virginia in Austin Texas. Three children, one boy, Tony, a printer, in Florida, Two daughters, Bonnie, living in South bend, with one daughter and Annette, living in Georgia, married of course.
Right now I cannot think of much more unless I racked my brain to a lot of lesser things. Enclosed is some material perhaps you might be interested in.
My unit, service Battery 68th Armored Battalion, had the following officers: Captains, John Whistler ________ Gylord Lieutenants Groening Huffacker Bush
1sr Sargent Hugh Lavertyn was an old pro, going back to WWI
Medals I received: World War II American Campaign American Defense Good Conduct European, African, Middle East Campaign Two Battle Stars Presidential unit Badge (Small gold rectangle w/ blue ribbon inside) (Our Unit got this Citation from efforts in Tunisia) |
| source: daughter Jackie Van Dyke, 04/20/2017 |
 Page last revised
04/20/2017James D. West www.IndianaMilitary.org |
My
Mother as a teenager immigrated from Poland. She was born May 8th
1894 in Lublin, Bresziny Poland. Maiden name was Antoinette
(Antonina) Lenart. She to the best of my knowledge settled in
coalmining region of Pennsylvania, married quite young to my father,
a coal miner. His name was Aloyicious Czapla.