It seems somewhat ironic that someone who has an interest in history is reluctant to look into his own family's history. Yet in one respect, I have indeed been reluctant. Maybe it is because of what I knew of the story and of the men involved that kept me from asking the difficult questions until it was too late to ask those questions. This fall, with the passing of Dr. Stephen Ambrose, I have been brought back to thinking about this and have decided to write what I know as a record for my family and myself. I'd first like to say thank you to one of the folks that inspired this work -- Dr. Stephen Ambrose.

Dr. Stephen Ambrose

Regardless of what your personal opinions of his work may be, Dr. Ambrose can be credited with helping to popularize the study and interest in World War II history. Much as Shelby Foote has done for the American Civil War, Dr. Ambrose has helped people focus on World War II and think about the history around them in the form of their families who lived through the war years, or participated in the war itself. His first book was a biography of Henry Halleck, Army Chief of Staff during the American Civil War. He went on to write about Presidents Eisenhower and Nixon, as well as Lewis and Clark and the building of the Transcontinental Railroad. We know him best for his books on World War II. Starting with "Pegasus Bridge," and going on to his recent book, "The Wild Blue," Stephen Ambrose covered the war in a first person manner.

In doing so, he brought a deeper understanding of it to us all. He helped make a war that had been something almost too large to contemplate, understandable and reachable to many. He also was one of the driving forces behind the National D-Day Museum in New Orleans. The museum is a storehouse for all kinds of information on World War II, not just the Normandy Invasion. One of its purposes is to gather stories from those who participated in the war itself. Dr. Ambrose helped see to this, and it is for this reason, I thank him. He has helped insure that the legacy of the men and women who took part in this most amazing event will be remembered. The other person who I owe a debt of thanks to is my grand-uncle, Jacob J. Veltman, or as we knew him "Buddy."

"Buddy"

Buddy was my mother's uncle and was always around to help the family. I can't think of the number of times that he helped us out with various projects. He was always there for us when we needed help. I had heard some of his war stories and also heard some of them from other family members as well. Buddy served in the U.S. Army, Patton's Third Army, 80th Infantry Division, 317th Regiment. Most of what I know of his time in the service is from the Battle of the Bulge and his time as a POW, as those were the only parts of the war that he seemed to talk about. He had been in action for a while, and I know he didn't care too much for General Patton. He always quoted the general's line about being willing to sacrifice 1,000 infantrymen for one tank. Being in the infantry that didn't make him feel too comfortable.

One story I heard about him took place sometime during the fight toward the German border, or possibly during the Battle of the Bulge. His squad was going after some Germans in a farm field, working around some of the haystacks, when he heard someone yell "Jake!" He swung around to find a German soldier standing right behind him. Bud shot first and got the German and as far as I know that was the only German that he acknowledged in shooting throughout the whole war. What made this story so strange was the fact that nobody ever called him Jake in the service, or outside of it for that matter. It was always Bud, or Buddy to everybody.

His greatest trial and hardship came during the Battle of the Bulge. During that campaign the Germans captured him. The Germans forced all of their prisoners to strip in the icy cold of December. Buddy mentioned that they even cut off their socks. Needless to say, some of the men got frostbite, including my uncle. He suffered from the effects of that for the rest of his life. The men were then herded into cattle cars for transport to the East and the POW camps. From the stories I heard from Buddy and my family, the conditions there weren't much better. The men were sick, starving and freezing, and the Germans didn't have much compassion for them. The potatoes that were to be fed to the prisoners were instead given to the hogs and the potato skins boiled down into soup for the inmates.

Bud got progressively weaker working in the stone quarry near the camp. He also hated the German guards. Most of his fellow inmates wouldn't talk to them, or even curse at them. That wasn't Buddy however. One day, one of the guards said hello to him in English, and Bud shot back with a torrent of expletives at the guard. The guard took him aside and mentioned that he didn't look well. He also told Bud that if he were too sick to work the Germans would leave him in the barracks to starve to death. The guard told him to smash his foot in the quarry the next day. If he did that, he would go to the hospital and be better fed and be able to regain his strength. Some of you may be wondering why the guard did this. It was because out of all of the POW's in that camp, Buddy was the first one to ever say anything to this man. Even though he was cursed at, and I'm pretty sure the German didn't know what was being said to him, he was so impressed with this act that he gave my uncle the advice that saved his life.

Sometime during his captivity he managed to "liberate" the keys to the potato locker. I never heard exactly how he did this, but he managed to swipe the keys and get some potatoes for himself and some of his fellow inmates. All of this was under penalty of death. However, at this time, it didn't really matter that much anyway. The key is still in possession of his children. One time several years ago he was going to throw it out but my aunt stopped him and told him to save it for his kids.

Buddy would sit the last six months of the war out in the East. He told me that he was liberated by the Red Army in the closing days of the war. His first real food were some pickled eggs the Russian soldiers had with them. It was finally "over" for him and his fellow POWs, and they would soon be going home. It would never really be over for anyone who served in the war, though, particularly men like my uncle. He worked for the city public works department until he retired.

I'm sure he wrestled with the demons of his memory of those terrible days during the war. But I also know he raised a good family and was always helpful to anyone who needed it. I remember him always helping out my grandparents and my mother with things around our house, or with our cars. He may have seemed gruff and hard at times but he was always there when somebody needed help. Buddy passed away on December 20, 1998, after a stroke. The only regret that I had was that I never sat down and talked with him about his wartime experiences.

I had wanted to do this about six years ago, but after seeing "Saving Private Ryan," I just clammed up. I realized then how intensely personal the war was to him and found it hard to ask those painful questions. There were some things that I just didn't feel "right" about asking him. I now regret that decision and I hope that I may learn more about his wartime service through research and digging. In any case, I am very glad to have had a chance to know somebody like Bud. The one thing he helped me realize is that the "heroic" or larger than life deeds I read about were really performed by average folks, his generation, my father's generation. He didn't think that they really did anything special or noteworthy in their participation in the war. Maybe it was because it was too large to comprehend -- for both them and us. It doesn't really matter that much to me. I'm just grateful to have known a participant like Bud.

Thanks again, Buddy, for all you did.

I would like to ask all of you who still have family or friends alive from the World War II or Korean War period to get their stories written down or on video or audio tape before they, too, pass. This is important history -- whether dad served in the 29th Infantry at Normandy, or he worked in a steel mill in Bethlehem, PA. It is a story that needs to be told and remembered for the future. Please take the opportunity while there is still time.