My grandfather, Frank Thomas O'Connor was born on May 29, 1894, in Omaha, Nebraska. He died February 25, 1965, in Los Angeles, California, at the age of 70.
Frank, was a graduate of Creighton University, where he boxed and played football. At age 23, in 1917 he was working as a Public Defender in Omaha.
He tried to volunteer to become an officer in the AEF. They turned him down because of an eye injury he got when he was a teenager. He sang in an Irish trio. Here's a picture of Frank (in the middle) at age 18.
The army wouldn't take him as an officer, but they did draft him into the infantry and made him into a machine gunner.
Frank served Company A, 341st Machine Gun Battalion, 177th Brigade, 89th Division of the American Expeditionary Force. He trained at Camp Funston, Fort Riley, Kansas.
BATTLE PARTICIPATION OF THE 89TH DIVISION.
341st Machine Gun Battalion
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(1) Lucey sector, Toul, France, 10 August-ll September 1918.
(2) St. Mihiel offensive, France, 12 September-16 September 1918.
(3) Euvezin sector, Toul, France, 17 September-7 October 1918.
(4) Meuse-Argonne offensive, France, 19 October-11 November 1918.
Frank remained in Germany assigned to the military police until he returned home in 1919.
He was part of the first element of the 89th Division to sail from Brest Brest France upon the Leviathan May l5 (1919) troops comprised the 355th Infantry, the 353rd Infantry, and 340th and 341st Machine Gun Battalions.
Frank's experiences in the trenches marked him for life. As a machine gunner, his job was to clear the way for the infantry. He survived gas attacks, shelling, very few of his friends ever got back to Omaha. He survived the Battle of Argonne Forest a deadly campaign resulting in over 26,000 US soldiers being killed in action (KIA) and over 120,000 total casualties.
When I was a young boy told me a few stories about the war. He was a taciturn man. When a story came, it seemed to erupt
He repeatedly told me how important it was to take care of my feet. "Keep 'em dry. Otherwise, it's trench foot and they'll just rot away."
"Don't tell me about religion. I'll tell you what it gets you. I remember when one of the men just jumped up and started preaching. He was really screaming about Jesus and a bunch of the guys gathered around to listen. A shell hit and killed them all. That's what religion gets you."
"I got lost in the trenches. I was out in the mud for days. No water. It was night and I heard voices, I was so hungry and thirsty I just jumped into the crater. It was full of Germans, they were as startled as I was, I managed to get away before they could shoot me."
I can only imagine what must be going on in his head in this photo from 1941. He's got his arm around my dad, Jack E. O'Connor. Dad was a Lieutenant in the Army Air Corps, home on leave. He survived WWII and carried his own scars.
This day, 102 years ago, my Grandfather was alive on the battlefield with the smell of the Argonne on him when World War 1 ended at the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918.
War is pain that echoes in the genes.
My Father and Grandfather were scarred for life by the death they survived as young men.
Memorial Day is more than a calendar event.
