| This is dedicated to my father, Walter Washington Train.
It is my hope, that the honor and respect he did not get during his life, he will now get....once his story is told. He was, if nothing else, a WW II War Hero. A patriotic man who was awarded the Bronze Star and the Purple Heart during the Battle Of Leyte, in the Phillipines. I can remember him coming by my house when my children were young, proudly wearing his VFW hat, with colored bars along the side. He once showed me a picture that was in the local paper.....it was him, on Memorial Day, saluting the flag as it was carried by. I have thought about that picture many times since my father died and I wish I had it today. For years, I had different memories of my father. Some of them, supplied by my mother were simply not true. My mother and father separated when I was 14 after years of mistrust, infidelities, alcoholism and fighting. It sure got a lot quieter after he left. My sister, and my brothers agreed on one thing, having him gone certainly made our lives a lot nicer. No more fighting with mom, no more things being thrown against the wall, no more drunken dad. There is no doubt that my father was an alcoholic. Most of his own brothers and sisters were alcoholics as well. His drinking was legendary. He would walk into a bar and place a bet that he could outdrink anyone in the bar. I doubt he ever lost. The drinking was what destroyed the marriage. The drinking led to financial troubles, his "carousing", and inevitably his divorce from my mom. My mom later remarried a wonderful man, Frank Bracciale, who certainly was more of a father to us than my dad was. We learned some wonderful lessons from this gracious and very human man. But this is not about Frank. He was loved and adored by all of us, and his presence in our lives will never be forgotten. This is about the man who WAS almost forgotten. By me, my sister and my three brothers. This is a tribute to him, because he was our father and he did, in many ways, shape our lives with his sense of humor and his ability to make fun out of nothing. All of his children inherited this gift of humor. For years, we only knew what my mom would tell us. In her defense, I think that she was quite hurt that "Buddy" was not the Prince Charming she thought he was, when she married him at the tender age of 17. My Father was born in Setauket, N.Y. September 15, 1919. He was one of six children born to Lillian and Charles Train. His father was killed in a ship mishap in Pt. Jefferson Harbor when he was three years old. I don't know very much about his early years, but I do know that he was stationed at Camp Adair, Oregon when he met my mother at a dance. She told me that she thought he was the singer, and he was just so handsome! They were married two weeks later. My father was shipped to the Phillipines in 1944, was wounded and sent home on the hospital ship "Hope". My sister Arlene was born, then Bob, then me (Linda), John, then Glenn. From what I heard from my mom, he was less than the ideal husband, but what I remember is a man who loved to make his children laugh. He use to pile us all in the car and take us for a ride on Chester Road in Sayville. A very hilly rode, that my father would take at speeds I'm sure were over the limit! Up and down, we would fly off our seats, hit the roof of the car, and bounce down on the seats again. Surely, a mad man...but we laughed the whole time. I can still see him, looking back at us, laughing right along with us. When I was 5 or 6, he took me to Blue Point Stables and let me rent a horse, As soon as we were far enough away from the house, my father took me off the sadle, and galloped away at what seemed like 50 miles an hour! He pulled up the horse, turned him around and galloped just as fast back to where I was standing. All he needed was a ten gallon hat. The rest of my ride was pretty slow but he laughed for days on that one. He kept saying "Old Paint was a pretty fast horse!" We never lived in a very nice house, but I do remember moving into a brand new house in Blue Point when I was around 6 or 7. I can remember hearing them fight one night, and getting up the next morning seeing a hole in the wall where someone had thrown a vase. Things were not going well for Elsie and Buddy. We lost the house and for some unknown reason, moved to California to be closer to my mom's family. We later hear, it was a move for a "fresh start". It didn't work, and we were back in New York in less than a year. A few years later, my father moved out. We heard he had moved in with a woman who was pregnant with his child. Later, the divorce, and we all seemed to be on separate paths. My mom remarried, we grew up, and slowly, little tidbits about her life with Buddy came out. I don't think she meant to color our conception of him, but I know that I believed her stories. I didn't have a lot to do with him. My step-father was a terrific father to us.....I had in him...what I never had in my real father. But, little girls grow up, get married and have families of their own. My sister and I decided that we would try and keep in touch with dad. We visited him, talked with him....tried to get to know him. He drank too much, went from job to job, got married again....got old. When he lost his larynx to cancer, we tried even harder. We wanted no regrets. He lost his voice, slowed down on the drinking, and would visit me from time to time. He wrote me lots of letters, quite a few of them about the war. He sent me some of his medals, which my mother dismissed as being "bought in the pawn shop". He told me he was wounded at Leyte in October of 1944 and gave me his Purple Heart. His platoon was pinned down near some church in Tabontabon, Leyte. I started to wonder about what I had heard from my mom. But, she insisted that he shot himself in the foot to get back to the States. Was there anything about this man that I could be proud of? He died on June 16, 1991 in a veterans' hospital from squamous cell cancer. He was buried in Calverton National Cemetery, without a final good-bye from any of his children. He had lived without a voice for over six years. I can still see him trying to tell me a joke, silently laughing all through it. I tucked my memories away, and with the exception of a birthday here..or a father's day there, let my father rest in Calverton. Then came Saving Private Ryan. If ever there was a life altering movie...this was it. I grew up with John Wayne movies....(and never any blood). The movie that truly showed us the horror of war, and the old man, at the end of the movie, saluting his friend. I would think about my father with a little more understanding after that movie.I had many conversations with my children about the grandfather they hardly knew. About him, the war, his medals (were they real?). What kind of a man was he before the war? How had the war changed him? He told me once when he was in Leyte, he had his rifle aimed at a Japanese soldier, pulled the trigger and watched as he fell lilfeless to the ground When he turned the body over, a small picture came out of the soldiers pocket of his wife and little girl. He said it reminded him of his own wife and little girl back home, and how sad his wife would be when she heard he was dead. How very, very sad he was, when he told me that story. Only he knows how the events of World War II affected him. My brothers and my sister use to chuckle when he would watch "Victory at Sea" on Sunday nights. What was he looking for? Two and a half years ago, I wrote to the National Personnel Records Center in St. Louis, MO asking for copies of the medals my father had received in WW II. They came on March 23rd. The Purple Heart The Bronze Star The Good Conduct Medal The Combat Infantrymans Badge Other campaign medals, freedom medals, and a Victory Medal. He was a terrible husband, maybe a mediocre father, but he was a Hero. He wasn't AWOL, he was wounded in action, and he was a great shot to boot! All those years, with very little to be proud of, were restored to me when those medals arrived. The old man saluting the American Flag during parades was telling the truth. He loved his country, he was proud of being a soldier. I hope telling his story, I have somehow redeemed him in the eyes of his children. He made lots of mistakes, but we never heard the whole story. He may have died without a voice, but he has one now. Rest easy Dad, I love you. Linda The Good Conduct Medal The Bronze Star The Purple Heart In Memory of all who served in the 96th Division, 382 Infantry, 2nd Battalion, Company F, 2nd Platoon Link to 96th Division Hompage World War II Memorial Link text. If you would like to submit a veterans name for the future Memorial honoring someone you know, please e-mail the information I will have an Honor Roll for Veterans of all wars. Click here to add your text. WebRing Home - About - Privacy This page was last updated on: August 30, 2001 This page was last updated on: August 30, 2001 This page was last updated on: August 30, 2001 This page was last updated on: August 30, 2001 This page was last updated on: August 30, 2001 |
