Today's Mostly True Short Story: Rosary Beads

Sgt. Joseph LoBuono (c 1943)

They are quite simple, really. Legend has it that they were made from the wood of an olive tree found in the Holy Land. But, to my father, the simple rosary beads were more valuable than gold.

As a young man, I sat listening intensely as he related the story of where he got them and how, he believed, they contained real, spiritual power.

WWII, France. Late 1944.

My father's unit of combat engineers with Patton's Third Army was bivouacked in the countryside near a small French village. Somehow, my father was befriended by a French family for reasons I no longer remember (after so many years, many of the finer details have been lost to me). Be that as it may, they invited him to join them for a home-cooked meal. Perhaps, it was to thank him for fighting for their liberation. We will never know with certainty. I'm sure that my father, who had not been home in over two years, was anxious to indulge in some French provincial cooking! He received permission to attend the meal and grabbed a jeep to drive to their home.

Once there, he basked in the warmth of this French family, so grateful for his presence. As if their affection wasn't enough, during the course of the meal, they presented my father with a gift. It was a set of rosary beads made from the wood of an olive tree in the Holy Land. They wanted him to have it as a talisman to keep him safe for the remainder of the war. My father was overwhelmed with gratitude.

After the meal, they made their tearful goodbyes.  Rejuvenated by the genuine warmth of the experience, my father headed for his jeep and the return to his unit. Partly into the trip, he realized that he left the rosary beads behind! In a semi-panic, he made a quick U-turn to go back and retrieve them. They were so relieved that he took the time to return. Of course, after their magnificent gesture, my father HAD to come back.

He retrieved the rosary and resumed his journey. When he reached his unit he was horrified to discover the camp in shambles. They had just been strafed by the Luftwaffe! Casualties were extremely high. The dead and wounded lay everywhere. It was then when my father realized that if he had not taken the extra time to return to get those beads he might have very well been one of those unfortunate souls. It shook him to his core.

Of course, from that moment on, those rosary beads took on a mythical quality for my father. He carried them with him not only through the war, but for the remainder of his life.

While researching for this story, I asked my mother is she still had them. She said. "oh, you mean those wooden ones? Yes, I have them in my hands, even as we speak . . .