This is my Grandfather. His name was Martin. He died in 2001, and I was fortunate to know him.
He was born in Poland, but his family was living in Austria when Hitler came to power. As Jews, the family knew they had to leave, and pooled their money to send the smartest child (his name was Irving) to America, with instructions to find a way to make a living in America, FAST, and then bring them all over one by one. Irving was 19 years old at the time, and only knew 1 distant cousin in the U.S.
Somehow he did it. That's a story in itself.
World War II was only a few month away when it was Marty's turn. He remembered being on an immigrant ship when it was stopped and searched by a Danish warship, and the passenger's fear that it might be a German ship coming to turn them back if war had broken out.
Many family members didn't get out, and vanished from history. Lost anonymously in a death camp, with millions of others.
Marty joined the family in Chicago. To gain citizenship quickly he volunteered for the Army, and served through the war. Because of his German background he wasn't allowed at the front, as there was concern about loyalty. He was stationed at Camp Pendleton, in California, guarding against a Japanese invasion that never came.
After the military he went through the struggles of returning to normalcy, at different times working as a fur salesman, a door-to-door vacuum salesman, and finally finding his career at a clock factory. He had 2 children, one of which is my mother (Hi, Mom!).
Thank you, veterans everywhere.
