Here you'll find the article that I wrote for the paper I work for.
It appeared in the
1999 Memorial Day Tribute Edition of The Shopper's Weekly
on May 19, 1999.
World War II Veterans: Dwindling
In Number But Not In Our Hearts
By T. Scott Pinkowski
While there are numerous veterans residing in this
area, World War II veterans are truly a dying breed. Unfortunately,
with these men and women, die the stories and accounts that have never
been written down, captured on film or told to grandchildren.
As a result, World War II will soon be as distant
to today's young people as the Civil War is to my generation. But
to those lives it has touched, directly or indirectly through loved ones,
it will remain as large as life. My grandfather, Jerry Pinkowski, (1915-1993)
was 26 years old when America entered World War II. He was considered
"unfit for service" due to a childhood injury to his arm. However,
the U.S. Army was in dire need of good mechanics. Being a master
mechanic, he volunteered his service and his mechanical skills with a "what-can-I-do-to-help?"
attitude.
He served with the 347th Ordnance Depot Company
which eventually had the job of supplying the men of the Third Army as
they rolled toward Germany, through the French countryside. The war
ended in 1945 and soon, he was on his way back home to Chicago and his
wife, Alice, who resides in Odin, Illinois today.
World War II is larger than life to me.
Through loved ones, it has touched my life and I know that my grandfather
played an important part. I heard my grandfather talk about the war
only once. The stories he told were darker than some of the portrayals
that Hollywood served up, or even the brief unit history that traced the
steps of the 347th through war's end.
Today, I understand the sacrifices that my grandfather
made; and the ones he was willing to make. Hundreds of thousands
of men offered the ultimate sacrifice. This selfless attitude is
characteristic of American veterans--past and present. We must never
forget those who went before us and made life as it is today possible.
My father and I both quietly admire my grandpa
for his service in World War II. Like his dad, he volunteered his
service, but this time the fighting was in Vietnam, where he narrowly escaped
death and was sent home with four Purple Hearts (having been wounded in
action on four separate occasions.) By having a close relationship
with my father, I'm well aware of the sacrifices he was willing to make
as well.
My father and I often study my grandfather's
photos from World War II that he took with his old Argus camera.
We discovered the hatbox bull of photo negatives shortly after my grandfather
lost his battle with cancer in 1993. I printed hundreds of these
photos in the darkroom at Millikin University, where I was attending, and
showed them to Dad. It brought us closer as we studied the photographs
and tried to identify the aircraft, vehicles, buildings and people that
my grandfather had captured on film some 50 years earlier.
It was sometimes haunting to see Grandpa and
his buddies goofing off in the photos, not knowing the fates of the other
men pictured. I had come to the grim realization that I would never
know any of their names, although I would never forget their faces.
