GRANDDAD'S MEDAL FOR MOM by [email protected]

My maternal grandfather, Stephen Raymond SMITH, was buried on 13 June 1930. The family attributes his death to the chronic effects of having been gassed in the trenches of France in World War I. He was 31 years old when he died; mother was seven. When I quiz her about the funeral, all she can remember is the local contingent from the American Legion Post playing "Taps" and her Aunt Vera trying to throw herself into her brother's grave. To this day, my mother cannot stand to hear "Taps." She does not know what happened to her Aunt Vera or any other member of her father's family. She did not know where her father was born or his birthday. She did remember that her father had only one hand, but not whether he was born that way.

In January 1998, I became interested in genealogy and family history. I quickly realized genealogy is the frame of a family and family history/folklore is the fabric of a family. Around Easter 1998, I asked my mother where her father was buried. She was not sure. I made some phone calls, found out where he was buried, and my mother, sister, and I visited the family plot for the first in my life and the first time for my mother since her father's death in 1930. Stephen SMITH's stone grave marker was the military type found in Arlington National Cemetery. It was extremely weathered and some inscriptions were beyond recognition. My sister and I thought it would be a nice gesture to have his grave marker replaced. To do this I would have to find his military records, which I had been unsuccessful in acquiring months earlier because I did not know his Army serial number, per the National Personnel Records Center (NPRC) in St. Louis, Missouri.

By December of 1998, my interest in genealogy expanded. I traced some family lines to Philadelphia in 1682, while others lead to dead-ends. My link to Stephen R. SMITH's lineage was a dead-end. I traced his birth in 1898 to the town of Windber, a coal-mining town in western Pennsylvania. According to family folklore, his father was a Polish immigrant who changed his name when he arrived. The family does not know what his name was before it was Smith. I really needed his military records to find out more so that his new stone grave marker would have more than just his name and life span on it.

Then I had an idea. I knew he had a military grave marker. This meant the U.S. government paid for some of the funeral expense. I contacted Westminster Cemetery to find out if it had any of Stephen SMITH's military records and it did not. But his funeral was handled by the Oliver Bair funeral home and it is still in business. I thought "what are the chances of a funeral home still having records almost 70 years after the funeral? I was right, they did not have his records. Funeral records only must be kept for tax records for seven years, just like any other business. But, they did not destroy them, either. They sent all their old records the Historical Society of Pennsylvania (HSP) in Philadelphia. Funeral homes are not required by any law to keep these old records for more than a year. I was very lucky. I wrote to the HSP and in two weeks I had my grandfather's funeral records, complete with a claim number for the Department of the Army. With that claim number, I was able to recontact NPRC in St. Louis. NPRC said most (85%) of the records of all veterans of World War I were destroyed in a fire in 1974, including my grandfather's. However, because he had an additional claim folder due to his 1930 military funeral, a copy of his records were found in that claim folder in Washington, D.C. Two weeks later, I had a copy of my grandfather's military records. Now doors to the past were beginning to open.

In 1916, Stephen SMITH, at age 17, enlisted in the U. S. Army out of Marion, Ohio. He was part of the 166th Infantry Regiment which was part of the 42nd "Rainbow" Division. When America entered World War I, his division was sent to the front. For the duration of the war, his regiment was never out of firing range of the enemy. He saw action in the battles of Champagne, the Second Battle of the Marne, St. Mihial, and the Argonne. It was at Argonne, "while in action with the enemy," that he was wounded when a flare gun he was firing exploded in his hand. The hand had to be amputated in the field. This occurred on 10 November 1918, the last day of fighting. Armistice Day (in the U.S.A. now called "Veteran's Day") was 11 November 1918.

I thought it would be fitting if I applied for a Purple Heart Medal for Stephen SMITH. On 4 March 1999, I wrote to Total Army Personnel Command (APC) in Alexandria, Virginia, to get the medal for my grandfather posthumously. I thought I would get the medal quickly because I submitted a copy of his military records and his Honorable Discharge that described his wound. I would present this medal to my mother and tell her that she finally has something to remember her father by.

The APC responded on 1 November 1999, by saying that Stephen SMITH was not eligible for a Purple Heart because his wound resulted when a flare gun accidentally blew-up while he was firing it. The denial was based on the words "accidentally discharged." You cannot receive a Purple Heart because of an accident. Another set-back. But his records said the wound occurred while "in action with the enemy." So, in order to be eligible for the Purple Heart, I needed to prove fighting was going on while he discharged his flare gun. Flare guns were used for communicating troop and enemy activity in World War I.

I scurried to the Internet to see if there was someone who might be a World War I buff and know about troop activity and battle engagements. I sent several e-mails to groups I never before knew existed, asking about the closing battles of World War I and the troop activity of the 166th Infantry Regiment, 42nd "Rainbow" Division. No one responded to these e-mails.

On 15 December 1999, I received an early and unexpected Christmas present when I received a package from the U. S. Army Center of Military History at Fort McNair, D.C. This package contained mounds of evidence as to why my grandfather should receive a Purple Heart. Armed with new evidence, on 28 December I again wrote to the APC in Alexandria, Virginia, and asked them to reconsider their previous denial. It appears that perseverance and truth pay off.

On 4 May 2000, my grandfather's 's Purple Heart arrived in the mail -- almost 82 years after he was wounded.

On 8 May 2000, I presented this medal to Stephen SMITH's daughter, my mother. She was pleased for what I did, for remembering her father. She told me how for many years family discussions steered away from her father and that she did not remember much about him. I guess years of forgetting about someone takes its toll. In a gracious tone, she said it was a very nice gesture what I did. Then she handed me back the medal and said, "you keep it."