Life’s Curveballs

He was born on 7 November 1919 and named Lawrence Leo Worrilow, Jr. What is somewhat strange is that he gave me the same name. He knew he was a junior because he signed his name that way on many documents yet like most men of that era, after his father passed, he thought he was then senior.

During the 1930s and shortly after his eighteenth birthday, he was a seaman and deck hand on a Sun Oil tanker. He made many voyages and even traveled through the Panama Canal on a few occasions. Sometime after this, he can be found as a welder working at Sun Ship in Chester Pennsylvania. Photos of him during this time show him unafraid to be without a shirt posing on the ship. He shows an arrogant, somewhat hard side of himself that I had not known… a cocky kid ready to take on the world.

He enlisted in the Army National Guard on 17 February 1941 and was a private in the infantry. Then, on 8 April 1943, he was called to active duty and shipped off to England. He was part of the 17th Airborne Division, 193rd Glider Infantry Regiment, Company B and more can be found about his unit’s history on their web site here. From his military records, we find that he was a rifleman and made 5 combat parachute jumps, and was wounded on 7 January 1945 during the battle for Bastogne (The Battle of the Bulge - The Ardennes Offensive). The web site link above has more information about this battle and the role of the193rd.

One of the few things that my father ever spoke of was how he was wounded. He said that it was very cold and they were in deep snow. They had white ponchos on to camouflage them selves against the snow. He recalls the German artillery fire “the 88s” was very intense and pretty much decimated his company and the 193rd. During the artillery barrage he, and a couple buddies, were huddled together in a foxhole when one of the 88s that were being rained down on them hit very close to their hole and my father was blown completely out of the hole. When he came to, he found one of his buddies dead and the other severely wounded with one of his legs blown off. My father suffered shrapnel wounds to his lower back. He put a tourniquet on his buddies leg and drug him a short distance to where American tanks were making their way back to the rear. One tank stopped and the men helped them get on and they both rode the tank to aid station. This is the only story that I know of during his involvement in the war. I don’t even know if his buddy survived for he would never speak of it.

The Affects of War

I have never personally experienced war but I think it is something that a person never gets over. Watching friends died and the experiences of war never fade. My father was very Claustrophobic and it probably had something to do with his foxhole experience. I only have 3 other glimpses of how the war changed him and what he was like shortly after.

1. I attended one of my father’s 17th Airborne Division reunions in Orlando Florida in 1996. While walking around in the War Room (a room they had set up to displayed photos and memorabilia) we met Bob one of my fathers war buddies from the same company. Unlike my father, Bob was a very open person and not afraid to speak his mind. At one point during our walk around the room, Bob says to my father, “Remember Bud (my father) we were walking up that hill and finishing them off and that damn Lt got in the way?” There were a few expletives here and then he said, “Lt, do you want to move out of the way” and Bob points his finger as if he was using a gun. Then he said, “We were hardened trained killers back then.”

My father was pretty much silent during the discussion and I could tell he was uncomfortable talking with me so close. Glimpse 1.

2. When I was about 5 or 6 years old, my father’s dog had a fight with the neighbor’s dog. Apparently, the neighbor got the dog so that it would keep my father’s dog out of his yard and this was a sore spot for my father. The neighbor was a big guy, over 6 feet tall, and my father was about 5 foot 7 inches. I remember him running across the street with a piece of wood saying something about taking care of him. We never had another problem with the neighbor and I never seen the neighbor’s dog after that. Glimpse 2.

3. During my father’s funeral, a man came up to me and I knew him from times passed. His name was Joe and he worked with my father for many years. We were over near the casket and Joe looks down at my father and said, “You know, to see him this way now and remember what he was like when he was young is hard for me. If anyone gave him a second look, he would drop him in a second.” Glimpse 3.

I only have these 3 glimpses into my father’s world after he returned home after World War II. My father and Bob are long gone now and their stories are gone with them. I think the war had changed them and for my father, I think he was somewhat of an anger person shortly after his return. He married a woman named Eleanor May Welsh sometime in 1948 and they tried to have children but Eleanor died 4 years later on 28 May 1952. For some unexplained reason, he destroyed all record of her from his life. Photos and anything with her name on it was destroyed. He never spoke of her ever again as far as I know.

Just a little over a year later, my father married my mother, Catherine Helen Kaufmann on 7 April 1953. My sister and I lived in a very happy home knowing very little about anything of the past before we were born. Maybe it was for the best. We were sheltered from all that was bad in the world before we were born. I guess that’s the way he wanted it to be.

My mother died on 16 May 1977, two days after her 56th birthday. My father mellowed in his old age and never was angry or let on to be upset about anything. He died at the age of 77 on 16 April 1997 never remarrying after my mother’s death. I miss them both.