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WWII vet recalls service; victory celebration in Freeland

Standard-Speaker - 8/30/2020

Aug. 30--Freeland native and World War II Army veteran Daniel Durso feels that people are beginning to forget the Second World War, as those who keep the memories alive fade into history.

The 96-year-old, now living in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, is one of two surviving members of the 702nd Tank Battalion that fought in the European Campaign attached to the 319th regiment of the 80th Division.

Five years ago, there were only five left, he said.

Durso pushed thoughts of his war experience from his consciousness for most of the 75 years that followed his discharge. He and the others didn't talk about their service even during reunions, which he said he stopped attending in 1995.

Decades later, these dormant memories began flooding back at night. These late night recollections, like dreams, escaped him each morning.

Determined to capture these thoughts, he began jumping from bed to make notes before these flashes of the past disappeared, he said. Soon, Durso had a box of notes and wondered what to do with them.

Then, "by the grace of God," he discovered an old boombox in the basement. Durso decided to organize and record his memories, which included recollections and revelations of war and post traumatic stress disorder, an unspoken consequence of battle in his day, and the months-long victory celebration in his hometown.

His recollections, which he now smiles upon as a great time of his life, are now available on audio CDs.

Going to war

In March 1943, Durso stood under the marquee of The Refowich Theater in Freeland to begin his Army service. Twenty or so young men boarded a bus bound for Fort Indiantown Gap -- an induction point for some 18 months of training -- as people cheered, loved ones cried and St. Ann's Band played "God Bless America."

Durso quickly learned how to be a solider through basic training at Camp Campbell in Kentucky and then braving cold winter nights while training at Camp Phillips in Kansas. He saw New York City for the first time as a solider and paid a dime for a dance with a girl, he recalled.

Then, they boarded the Mauretania, sister ship of the Queen Mary converted to a troop ship, for the trip across the pond, docking in Liverpool, England, where he had the opportunity to serve as an honor guard for Gen. George Patton.

"This was the high point of my career," Durso said. "We loaded up, packed in the LST, and off to France, crossing the (English) Channel, landing south of Utah Beach."

An Italian-Catholic, Durso trusted in his faith to defeat fear and go into battle. Uncertainty and anxiety of unknowing settled in with the fear of death and each day's experiences began to form a cumulative effect on his psyche. A man with no enemies or prejudice, he now had to face a country full of enemies and taking of another life.

"After all of this, as my mind recalls, I am now aware of some of the damaging consequences causing post traumatic stress disorder," Durso said. "I was fortunate enough to abate this danger just by common sense, and also self-preservation. That's what I did by myself, for myself."

Not all soldiers were so lucky.

Durso was wounded in an attack in September 1944, after his battalion regrouped and traveled east near a small hamlet in northwest France, stopping in an apple orchard near a stone church surrounded by vegetation in all of fall's splendor, "waiting for artist's paintbrush," he said.

A missionary provided them the Eucharist on what was to be a day of rest and Durso stripped to the waist as crispy morning air warmed to take a "field bath" under apple trees. Fun and jokes turned into chaos as they came under attack.

Durso ducked under the tank, counting each explosion as they closed in. He prayed, asked to die rather than be crippled and called to his parents. He saw his wounds and went into shock.

"Lots of noise. Call the medics. I'm going -- I'm going to pass out ... I'm here on the litter, all wrapped. I'm cold, give me a blanket," Durso recalled as he was carried to an ambulance. "Damn, I left my glasses under that apple tree.

"Those thoughts have passed in and around in my mind a hundred, no hundreds of times, during the past 70 years since 1944," he said. "There you have it."

Coming home

Victory came in 1945 with celebrations in the streets, cheers, hugs, music, church bells and parades.

"The country was exploding with joy and revelry," he said. "Thousands of boys went off to war and returned as men," he said. "They came back to where they left, even the bedrooms untouched. In my case, the same bedroom with the same draperies, and even the same bedside lamp with a broken switch.

"Even those returning with battle scars are ready to celebrate," he recalled "The entire town feels the energy."

The government established the 52-20 Club, which gave those returning $20 a week for 52 weeks, while they adjusted to life back home, found jobs, went to school, contemplated marriage.

Freeland had 16 barrooms, which became social centers where guys could find companionship, camaraderie and a drink, if they wanted, to suppress the memories. They also offered a place to meet a nice girl, and possibly start a relationship, he said.

Women weren't allowed in the bars, but each had a sideroom where young women, mostly non-drinkers or smokers, gathered. Music played on a jukebox, and girls giggled, whispered and tried to catch the attention of a guy.

The guys garnered the nerve to snag a dance with a girl, walk someone home or make a connection, Durso said. Those without a girl went home tipsy waiting for the promise of the next weekend out.

Stores stayed open later or left lights on in the display window to brighten the business district as people socialized about town, Durso said. He recalls the time like a carnival without rides, dancing girls or gypsies.

In the summer of 1946, a Veterans Night was sponsored by the VFW. Durso dressed in his uniform, pinned on his ribbons with the Purple Heart on the end. His dad asked him to walk with him, which wasn't the plan he had for the night, he said.

He didn't dare refuse his father, and out on the town they walked, socializing along the way, he recalled. At one point, Durso's father grabbed his arm, and said "This is Danny. This is my son." That's when Durso realized his father's pride.

"The celebration continued," Durso said. "That was a pattern. The townspeople socializing, congregating, lots of laughs and tears. Everyone played a part, everyone sacrificed to achieve victory. Without a doubt the celebration offered recovery and healing to every man, woman and child."

This companionship, love and celebration offered recovery and a cure to the struggle felt by many.

Normalcy

Life soon returned to normal as the celebrating ended after many months. Fewer people came out, some bars closed, banners faded, flags sagged and shops closed early or darkened their lights, Durso said.

He went to art school for interior design and worked at Dick's Draperies in Hazleton for a time, but wasn't happy. His brother signed him up to study industrial arts at Millersville State College unbeknownst to him, and ended up back in school at age 29, he said. Durso taught until his retirement in 1983.

He also got married in 1956 to a girl who lived across town, the former Grace Ferdinand. Durso knew her brother, who was a friend who went to MMI and convinced him to play drums with the Mining band when Freeland wasn't playing, he said. That led him to be the youngest member of the St. Ann's Band and to gigs with a polka band in West Hazleton, he said.

Unlike others, Durso waited 10 years to settle down, but says it was worth the wait.

He and his bride of more than 60 years still reminisce about those joyous days of celebration after the war, he said.

"This is our new life now," he wrote. "In my twilight years, when my mind is at rest and searching for a thought, a smile crosses my face and I think, "that was one Hell of a great time."

More information can be found on Durso at www.VeteransChroniclesPodcast.com, and audio CDs of his recollections, "A World War II Solider Thoughts and Memories, A Trilogy" or a single CD, "WWII Victory Celebration Taking Place in a Small American Town," can by purchased by calling A+ Video Productions of Delaware (302) 422-6800.

Contact the writer: kmonitz@standardspeaker.com; 570-501-3589

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