My Grandfather, the War Hero
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Photo by Chris Wilson
Harold and Luretha Wilson were married and had their first child, Raelene, in the post-War years.
Harold Wilson, my grandfather, is a World War II hero. Yet, when we were growing up, you never would have known it. When I was young, Grandpa Wilson never spoke much about his service to our country. Maybe his memories were not pleasant enough to share with the children he loves. Maybe he didn't want people to think he was living in the past. Maybe he was trying to repress some horrifying bits of reality.
Grandparents Day falls on September 13 this year. For me, and my siblings, this day could become our family's own version of Veterans Day.
Harold Wilson was one of three of my grandparents who were part of the World War II fight. His wife (my grandmother), Lureatha Wilson, was a nurse and officer in the U.S. Navy, stationed in San Francisco. She took care of healthy and injured soldiers, including the men wounded at Pearl Harbor and later those who had fought in the South Pacific.
My maternal grandfather, Salvatore Reidda, was drafted into the war effort and fought throughout Italy and Germany for three years. He was among the soldiers who had landed at the famous Anzio Beach invasion and later with those who liberated a Nazi concentration camp. Grandpa Reidda was also highly decorated, including a Purple Heart for having been wounded in action. He was never shy about telling war stories or declaring that the United States was "the best country."
But my Grandpa Wilson is my only grandparent still alive. He turned 91 last March. He has been living in Florida since my grandmother died in 2000, and he has been a Gainesville resident for about four years.
I had known, growing up, that my grandparents were involved in World War II. I did not realize the extent to which my Grandpa Wilson was involved until I watched the movie "Saving Private Ryan" with him several years ago.
The graphic movie, which is about U.S. troops landing at Omaha Beach and their subsequent journey through war-ridden France, must have dredged up some familiar memories for my grandfather.
Grandpa Wilson was involved in reconnaissance missions throughout France and Germany. He was in the cavalry when he originally enlisted. However, when the war began, he and his fellow cavalrymen were put into tanks. Sgt. Wilson was a tank commander for the 116th Cavalry Reconnaissance Squadron Mechanized.
He recalls the tanks under his command rolling into towns in France, not knowing if the Germans were hiding in burned-out buildings or on the other side of the town. Because of the nature of reconnaissance missions, he was entering places that neither he nor any allied forces had been.
"Reconnaissance was great on some days," he said. "Sometimes we would just move along and not see anybody. But, you never knew when you were going to get hit."
My grandfather has a vivid memory of seeing a lone German soldier approaching his unit.
"We saw this German in a full uniform walking up the road," my grandfather said. "He started coming toward our vehicle, with his hands in the air. He was not armed and he surrendered himself. He said he would rather be fighting on our side."
On April 1, 1945, my grandfather's M-5 light tank and other tanks on his mission were hit hard by enemy fire in Germany. This would be my grandfather's last battle and one for which he would be awarded the heralded Bronze Star Medal.
My grandfather's tank was struck in the turret by panzerfaust fire. The German panzerfaust was an anti-tank weapon with a highly explosive warhead.
"The tank gunner was killed and Sergeant Wilson, tank commander, was seriously wounded," states a telegram my grandparents saved from U.S. Army Maj. Gen. F.W. Milburn. "Sergeant Wilson, in spite of his serious wound, maintained control of the situation and directed the return of his tank to safety. His prompt and decisive action was largely responsible for the safe return of three tanks through approximately 800 yards of terrain covered by panzerfaust fire. His action was a source of inspiration and increased the morale of all personnel."
My grandfather recalls that his gunner's head was, quite literally, blown off. My grandfather's wounds were from the shrapnel of the panzerfaust, which hit him in his shoulder just above his heart. Shrapnel also sliced through the back of his neck, barely missing his spinal column. He also sustained permanent damage to his left eye.
Sgt. Wilson's wounds not only meant he would later be awarded the Purple Heart, it also earned him a ticket home. After his wounds were stabilized in Germany, he was sent to a military hospital in England and was later transported to a hospital in Massachusetts.
"On the cruise back, we might as well have been on the Queen Mary," my grandfather said with a laugh. "It was all military. But, it was a brand new ship and it was beautiful." §
Chris Wilson is a freelance writer living in Newberry. He may be contacted through the editor: editor@towerpublications.com.
