LEONARD GRAY

Vacation will be a labor of love This week, I’m not in town. I’m off working on a labor of love. My dad was one of the first scouts off the boat in Operation Torch, the invasion of North Africa, in 1942. On one side, the might of Rommel’s tank corps. On the other, some farmboys who were about to confront true evil. He made it up the beach, helped capture a passing train and made his way to Fedala. In time, he joined his unit in the invasion of Sicily. If you saw the movie, “Patton,” you have some small idea of what it was like. After Sicily, his unit moved into Italy and prepared for the hell of Anzio. He missed that action, sidelined with trench foot. However, he was part of the landing at St. Tropez in southern France. He watched as a friend stepped on a hidden land mine and was blown to pieces. He later picked up a piece of shrapnel (still in him after more than 50 years) and a bullet wound. For these, he received a Purple Heart. He was present as the newly-liberated Dachau concentration camp unleashed its secrets to the horrified Allies. He eventually made his way to Austria in the closing days of the war. He served his country from 1940 to 1945. Not all of it was brave. Not all of it was perfect or pretty. This was war. This was hell on earth. For years, I’ve had the notion of chronicling his war service from the viewpoint of a foot soldier. Nothing special – just a man. Helping me in this effort are a collection of letters written either to him or by him, from friends, family and pen-pals. I even managed to trace the family of one of those pen-pals, who was then a teen-age Napoleonville girl. They kindly sent a copy of her wedding photo. I’m still searching for one of his fellowservicemen, one whose family stayed writingto my dad, long after this serviceman was transferred. It’s not “Saving Private Ryan” or “Pearl Harbor.” It’s simply a story, punctuated by his own memories and supplemented by photographs of his basic training in California and other photographs. Along the way of these interviews I’ve done with him, I’ve learned many things – some good and some not-so-good. There was the time he went “kinda nuts” and started shooting every German he found in a sort of killing frenzy. On another occasion, he tossed away his rifle and didn’t want to fight anymore. There was the girl in French Morocco who he considered bringing back to America and the touching letters they exchanged. What I’ll do with it, once completed, I don’t know. Maybe it will be published. It might make a good movie. But for right now, it’s mine. LEONARD GRAY is assistant managing editor of L’Observateur.