Today's MOSTLY TRUE SHORT STORY: Remembering Those Who Gave All

F LoBuono

Many years ago, when I was a young man in high school, I had what at least what I thought was a dream job for the summer - working with the local school district's maintenance crew. I would aid the regular staff in cleaning classrooms and maintaining the school grounds.

The work could be hard but the perks were outstanding. I had after-hours access to all of the schools and that meant allowing my buddies in their gyms for some extra-curricular basketball. And, when I turned 17, I was allowed to drive the crew's maintenance vehicle - an authentic WWII vintage Willy's Jeep painted bright yellow and with a tow hitch to haul a small trailer with our gear in it.

I also remember the wonderful cast of characters I worked with: There was Harry, the boss, a hard-nosed German who instilled discipline in the crew. Badge, using an anglicized version of his real Italian name, Biaggio, who had the biggest forearms I've ever seen. Tex, with a Texas-sized drawl to match his impressive size. He decided to check out NY for a couple of days after he got off a WWII troop ship and never left. Chubby was an impish, hard-drinking Irishman with a gentle nature. And, then there was Louie. In appearance, he was almost comical. About 6' tall, he was not heavy but still had an incredibly extended beer belly. He was also missing quite a few teeth and a couple of fingers from an earlier industrial accident. He ALWAYS wore a baseball cap and dark glasses. And, to complete his rather bizarre appearance, he had and egg-shaped, fleshy tumor behind one of his ears.

They were all good as gold to me and taught me as much about life as any professor I ever had. But, it's one story in particular that has stayed with me for nearly 50 years. It came from Louie.

It seems that, despite his rather comical appearance, Louie was one badass in his day. During WWII he was a paratrooper in the Philippines. Paratroopers were not used as extensively in the Pacific theater as it was in the European, but the missions they did execute were extremely dangerous. Louie often told me of one in particular. The one when he lost his best friend, a man he called by only one name - Gronski.

It seems that Louie met Gronski in boot camp and they became inseparable buddies right from the beginning - two peas in a pod. They made a point of jumping together on every mission. And, this one would be no different.

They were heading for a small clearing in the jungle when they were given their orders to jump and they leapt from the plane, one right after the other. Soon after their parachutes deployed, Louie saw them. The Japanese had spotted the planes and were rushing to the area where the paratroopers would land. Louie knew they were heading right for an ambush and hanging in the air meant they would be sitting ducks. Louie reached for the Tommy gun strapped to his body in an effort to fire at the approaching enemy. At the same time he yelled to his buddy, GRONSKI, GRONSKI, LOOK OUT! But, it was too late. The Japanese were already in firing position and cut Gronski virtually in half with a machine gun. He was dead before he hit the ground. Louie obviously survived that battle and the war.

But, to Louie, that one moment in time, and his friend, would never be forgotten. And, he made it come alive every time he told it to me. He would yell, GRONSKI, GRONSKI, GRONSKI, like it was still happening at that very moment. He would take off his dark glasses, and wipe the tears from his eyes with a handkerchief. After more than 30 years he still grieved. Then, he would put those glasses back on, spit through the gap in his teeth, compose himself and say, life moves on.

Yes, life does move on. But, if men like Gronski had not given us the last, greatest measure of devotion to preserve our most precious gift - our freedom - would it still be worth living.

Never forget.