On the 11th hour, of the 11th day, of the 11th month

I've posted before about my maternal grandfather and his service during World War I. As usual for me, on this day to honor all veterans I find myself gravitating toward the root in Armistice Day of World War I.

Another World War I veteran in the family tree was Joe St. George. I don't know much about him, though there are a few family anecdotes. He was nicknamed "the Count," for one, because he led a wild life.

Recently when cleaning out the house after my father's death, we found a picture of Joe & his wife, along with the certificate for his French Verdun medal.

Joe & Nellie St. George, year unknown (probably 1940s)

And last week, I finally found and visited their grave.

Amazing stuff to discover after all this time.

Personal effects; World War I paraphernalia

On my bucket list, and on my Dad's bucket list, unfortunately, was to get my mother's father's (my maternal grandfather) World War I paraphernalia into a display case. We finally did so this weekend.

His flag was undersized, but that worked out perfectly. My wife put together a shadow box that fitted into the bottom of the case. (For the record, he didn't die in the war, he died in 1943.) Under the flag we have a doughboy sewing kit, his dog-tags, a French Verdun medal (see Unofficial medals, on the linked page) American World War I Victory medal with three battle clasps, and rifle bullet shells.

This case now stands on our fireplace mantle, but the glare from the light didn't make for a good photo. Hence, the floor shot.

One other item did not fit into the case. A rather unique crucifix.

 "Gott mit uns" - God with us. Sorry Kaiser, better luck next time.

As a side story, my six-year old daughter recognizes Jesus and crucifixes. She wanted to know why Jesus was on 'that' (the cross of bullets.) I was a bit on the spot. The best I came out with was, "The problem with war is that sometimes both sides think God is with them. But it's a just a terrible thing." Or something to that effect.

Veterans Day; The Diary of Peter Kenny

Today is Veterans Day, and I'm late with this post.  But, I am squeezing it, and the official holiday observance is tomorrow.

This is the day to honor all veterans, of course.  But it has its root in Armistice Day of World War I, so I tend to think of my maternal grandfather on this day.

Peter Kenny was a Irish immigrant who became of a citizen of the United States in 1915.

In 1917, Uncle Sam drafted him into service.

It's funny that sometimes family stories are like onions - layers come out after many tellings and discussions.

I knew he died of cancer in the 1940s.  What I didn't know - until recently talking with my mother - is that in the end, he was at the V.A. hospital - and the wounded soldiers coming back from the WW II theaters were admiring him for what he had done.

No higher tribute I can think of.

When he was in France, he kept a "diary."  It is really a rough itinerary - a jotting of places he went, nothing deep or revealing.  It was just a pencilled pocket notebook, fading fast - I transcribed it years ago.

I get the feeling he wrote out some of the names phonetically.  And, some names might be hamlet names you wouldn't find on a map.  But someday I want to trace his route on a map - and maybe someday beyond that get to France and follow the journey.

It also includes names - I assume of comrades.  Whether he kept in touch with any of them after the war, I don't know.

If you want to read it, follow the "Read more >>" link...