Like many children of the Greatest Generation, my sisters and I never knew much about what our dad experienced during World War II. He never spoke about it, nor did we think to ask.
We basically knew he had been awarded the Bronze Star and Purple Heart for service in Italy, but little more. That changed, thanks to some items kept in a box of family memorabilia that recently came my way years after both of my parents passed away. Its discovery prompted me to do some research which led to the trip of a lifetime and an even deeper connection to my father.
To us daughters, this man we knew as Dad was a soft spoken, gentle giant — builder of swing sets and go-carts, untangler of necklaces, connoisseur of scratch-made pancakes, and the guy who could fix just about anything.
He never went hunting or kept any weapons in the house, only a pellet gun beneath the front seat of his car for those surprise encounters with rattlesnakes or wild javelina hogs in the oil fields of Texas.
Yet, little did we know that our dad, James Lee Morris of Tuleta, Texas, was a warrior, a fiercely trained, cool-under-pressure soldier of the U.S. Army’s 88th Infantry Division, an expert rifleman, a legendary “Blue Devil.”
In Company “M,” Dad was part of a weeks-long battle under horrific conditions to capture Monte Battaglia, key terrain in the Allied campaign for Italy.
His Bronze Star medal citation from Brigadier General Paul Kendall states while his battalion was advancing along a high ridge, he and two other infantrymen were instructed to stay back at the rear of the column and round up the men who had fallen behind.
Instead, he surprised and took out four enemy machine gun nests poised to ambush his unit, saving not only his life but the lives of countless infantrymen. On the backside of a photo of Monte Battaglia he handwrote, “Where I spent nine of the most hellish days of my life and where I was hit.” He was just 19 years old.
To honor him, last summer my husband Phil and I visited the Allied memorial atop Monte Battaglia, a remote area a few hours’ drive northeast of Florence. We stopped at a parking lot just off the paved road to determine whether we should drive or walk the final 2 kilometers up to the memorial.
There we encountered a young man, Stefano, dressed in fatigues descending the trail. In broken English, he offered that he was a war re-enactor who played the role of an American soldier – a Blue Devil.
When he learned that we were there to honor Dad, a real-life Blue Devil who fought there in 1944, he became visibly shaken and practically speechless to be meeting a family member of someone he obviously considered a hero. He told us that he and his fellow re-enactors are determined to keep the story alive so that no one ever forgets what the Allies sacrificed to liberate Italy.
I happened to have with me a Blue Devils bumper sticker given to Dad at a Texas reunion in 1985. Seeing the obvious pride Stefano felt in representing the 88th Division, I gave it to him.
He pointed to the goosebumps on his arm and said, “I don’t have the words to say how honored I am to have this.”
As we parted ways, Stefano looked at me and said, “Thank you, and thank your father.”
What began as a simple journey to a remote but hallowed spot in Italy brought a keen awareness of what my father and his fellow soldiers endured as young men. And the serendipitous encounter with Stefano showed that their sacrifice is still remembered and honored by those they fought to free.
Mary Lee Kiracofe is a retired educator and active community volunteer. She and her husband Phil live in Tallahassee.
This article originally appeared on Tallahassee Democrat: A daughter discovers a part of her Dad he never shared
Reporting by Mary Lee Kiracofe, Guest columnist / Tallahassee Democrat
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