Remembering Daddy on Veteran’s Day

With Gratitude to WWII’s Silent Style

My father never talked about his time in the Navy during World War II. We did see pictures of him in uniform, knew he was a radio operator, and thought it was cool that he used Morse Code. There was also that Pea Coat in great condition, from when he was discharged in January of 1946. The coat was handed down to my brother then passed to my sisters and me, fashionable in the 1960s, perfect for New Jersey winters.

I also remember a framed certificate in the garage, propped up on a wooden tool counter, mixed in with old hammers and oily rags. On the certificate was a picture of a ship, the USS Savannah, and my father’s name honored as a survivor. I somehow knew the ship had been bombed, but little else until a few years ago when I went down a Google rabbit hole to research the event.

(wikimedia)

The images were a punch to the gut: September 11, 1943, in the Bay of Salerno, Italy, Daddy’s ship was hit with a German glider bomb. The bomb tore through turrets, ammunition exploded, 197 crewmen were killed. I ran videos back and forth to look for Daddy, imagining him at 19 years old, in the midst of this horror, as charred bodies were laid out on the ship’s deck.