About the author

My great uncle Dorel Lyman Earley was killed in action in Italy in May, 1944, during the Anzio Campaign, but his death was shrouded in mystery among my family members until only recently, when I began researching for this book. He had been drafted into the U.S. Army in 1943 and was serving with the 751st Tank Battalion when, on May 28, 1944, his M5A1 Stuart tank was hit by a German artillery shell near Italian town of Valletri. The blast killed Dorel instantly, along with assistant driver Tec. 5 John J. Dougherty of Philadelphia. Wounded in the attack were gunner Pvt. Leo W. Carver and tank commander Sgt. Robert D. Wilson. Dorel and John Dougherty were laid to rest in the Sicily-Rome American Cemetery in Nettuno, Italy. Dorel was eventually returned home to the United States in the late 1940's, where he now rests at Greenwood Memorial Park in his hometown of San Diego, along with his brother Lyle, and his parents, John and Henrietta Earley. 

My quest for knowledge about his death and sacrifice were among the main inspirations for my book. 

My grandfather Glen George Earley enlisted in the U.S. Army in 1943 and was later sent to the Armor School at Ft. Knox, Kentucky. He would subsequently undergo training to perform the same job as his older brother Dorel, who was serving at that time in the Italian theater. Glen was eventually shipped overseas in the fall of 1944, finally making his way to the 745th Tank Battalion, where he first served as a member of a gun crew in HQ company. In the winter of 1945, after the 745th had fought in the Battle of the Bulge, Glen was transferred to Company B, where he was likely assigned as gunner of an M4 Sherman tank. On March 24, 1945, near the German town of Eulenberg, he was severely wounded when a German mortar landed only feet from him. He was only out of his tank after escaping the burning hulk, which had also been hit with an enemy shell and burned the back of his neck. After capturing several German soldiers, shrapnel from the mortar round killed his prisoners and tore into his body, perforating his intestines and shattering his pelvis. He was evacuated to England and eventually back to the states, but he would spend one year in a full body cast. While he overcame his handicaps and endured multiple operations and endless physical pain, Glen lost his very short battle with cancer in 1983. His ashes were scattered in the Pacific Ocean. 

I hardly knew my grandfather, but I have an extremely intense bond with him and a devotion to honor his life and service to his country, along with that of his brother Dorel. 

My grandfather Edd Wiley Sandusky Jr. was born in Lawrenceburg, TN,  in 1927.  As the fourth of five children born to the working class family of a truck driver, with permission from his mother "Ski" enlisted in the Navy in 1944 at just 17 years old, and was shipped across the country to San Diego, California, where he attended basic training. Weeks later, he was sent to the San Francisco Bay area and ultimately assigned to the USS Virgo (AKA-20), an Andromeda-class attack cargo ship that had returned to the states for an overhaul after having participated in the Pacific campaigns of Tarawa and Peleliu, among others. 

Ski stepped aboard Virgo in December, 1944, not even legally old enough to drink a beer. And in several short weeks, the ship was underway to ultimately participate in the Iwo Jima campaign. In short time, Ski's leadership abilities and potential were recognized by his superiors, and he was promoted to lead petty officer of his division. As a coxswain, he was charged with driving one Virgo's LCVP's (landing craft, vehicle, personnel), running supplies and troops ashore during the final campaigns of the war, including Okinawa, where Virgo was attacked multiple times by Japanese kamikaze aircraft. 

After island-hopping and running supplies from location to location, Virgo was sent in September 1945 to Tokyo Bay, one week after the Japanese had formally surrendered aboard the USS Missouri. Virgo was later assigned as store ship for occupation forces in Yokosuka until being sent home to the states in April 1946. After the war, Virgo also was made famous by author Thomas Heggen, who wrote the book, "Mister Roberts," which was later adapted into a Broadway production. In 1955 it was yet again adapted to into a feature film starring James Cagney, Henry Fonda and Jack Lemmon. The book, play and film were all loosely based upon Heggen's time aboard Virgo and his often contentious relationship with the ship's captain, Lt. Cmdr. Herbert Randall. 

During the journey back to San Francisco, Ski narrowly escaped death during a horrific truck accident that killed several of his shipmates on Manus Island, in the Admiralty chain of Papua, New Guinea. And when Virgo arrived in San Francisco, Ski was detailed to escort one of the men's remains home to Indiana. Days later, he returned to Tennessee, where he was honorably discharged from the navy. 

Less than a year later however, Ski was back in uniform and he would serve until his retirement in 1966, mostly on destroyers. 

Next to my father, Ski was the most influential man in my life and each and every day I strive to be just half the man he was. I can't begin to explain how I felt about the man, who was the epitome of integrity, honor, and selflessness. He died in December 2003 at 76, with me, my grandmother, and my mother at his side. 

Ski's service in World War II and the connection I shared with him while we often spoke of his service also was a major inspiration for this book. 

I didn't know much about my great-uncle Charles "Buddy" Sandusky until just recently during research for this book. He died in Dallas, Texas in 1961 at just 42 of an apparent heart attack. My grandfather didn't say much about him, but I do recall him mentioning he was wounded in World War II. When I was a teenager and visited family in Nashville, where the Sanduskys hailed from, we visited Buddy's grave at the National Cemetery there. The headstone indicated he served with the 117th Infantry Regiment of the 30th Division. And when I requested his records, this is also the information I received, which was corroborated by records I later found when he died, including a request for his headstone that was submitted to the Nashville National Cemetery in 1961. But after a full day digging through unit records for the 117 infantry, I found no mention of Buddy. And that is odd, so I knew something was off. 

During a foray online and into newspaper databases, I was able to find several articles indicating Buddy had served in Italy and was wounded October 8, 1944. According to my records and research, the US 5th Army was near Livergnano at the time, battling through the Appenines and toward Bologna.  With some help I located Buddy's hospital records, which indicated he was serving with the 361st Infantry Regiment of the 91st Infantry Division when he was wounded, and was treated for a shell fragment in his arm/wrist, along with what is noted as "hysteria" in the records, another term for PTSD, shell shock, or battle fatigue. I was just recently able to visit the National Archives in College Park, MD, to dig through records of the 361st, and I learned he was a rifleman with Company L of the third battalion of the 361st. When he was wounded, his company was engaged in a fierce firefight just south of Livergnanao - about 70 miles north of Florence, and roughly 14 miles south of Bologna - in a small village known as Cant. While this is pure speculation based on his records, I belive Buddy suffered a mental breakdown at that time; his outfit had been in almost continous combat since early June, four solid and long months.

It doesn't appear that Buddy ever returned to the 361st after October and his wounding, but was treated in a hospital - like in Naples - until which time he was transferred to the 30th Division, the outfit with which he had served before the war in the National Guard. He was discharged in September, 1945. 

Buddy was an incredibly private person, I am told, and his service and the injuries - both physcial and otherwise - he sustained during the war are believed to have caused him to suffer for the rest of his short life.