Vegas
07-28-2009, 07:38 PM
http://www.theunionleader.com/article.aspx?headline=Derry+man+shares+Dad%27s+WWI I+stories&articleId=1e2c8977-e54e-425e-ad25-20ed11ea6e4f
CARL "BRUNO" MAZZUCHELLI never spoke a word about his service as a bomber pilot during World War II, at least not to his sons. By the time he returned from war and picked up where he left off with his young bride, Mazzuchelli was more than ready to tuck his experiences away, deep down somewhere, like most of the men of his generation.
Only rarely did they resurface, coaxed by a few drinks and neighbors who'd been over there, too -- their stories shared in colorful shorthand and hushed tones, while the children slept.
When Carl Mazzuchelli died in 1991 at the age of 75, his son, Frank Mazzuchelli of Derry, was left to sort through his father's belongings. What he found -- a pile of yellowed love letters tied with red ribbon, a silver belt buckle, a box of medals, a flight log -- were pieces of his father's past; puzzle pieces that led him to the rest of the story and created a proud legacy for generations of Mazzuchellis to come.
"I know I'm not the only one to feel this way. I just wanted to tell people that, if you have a family member who served in World War II who is still living, ask them about their experience before it's too late. My father never said a word. All the wonderful stories I've discovered, I only discovered because of what he left behind," Mazzuchelli said.
He starts with his father's old bomber jacket, which was always just hanging in the closet.
"Once, when I was 19, I threw it on to paint. It was just some old jacket of my dad's, as far as I was concerned. Look, the paint's still here," says Mazzuchelli, gently holding up the worn brown leather sleeve splattered in eggshell Latex.
Only after sifting through his father's personal items did he discover that the emblem on the back, "I'll Get By," was the name of the plane flown by his father's 568th Bomb Squadron.
War historians say the jacket is rare -- most pilots tossed them after the war. Although he's been told he could probably make thousands if he sold it, he prefers that his daughter, Alicia Harressey, wear it -- sort of like a hug from the grandfather she lost too soon.
It gets the most attention whenever she wears it to see the B-17s at New Hampshire Aviation Historical Society gatherings.
Sisters told stories
Some of the stories Mazzuchelli has gathered came from his father's sisters, who remembered everything about their brother's stint in the service.
"They told me about one time when my father landed in a field in England -- they couldn't quite make the runway, and a farmer's wife ran out to greet them.
She says, 'All I can give you are some eggs.' They were so grateful, and had so little to offer," says Mazzuchelli, his emotions spilling over for a moment.
"Learning these stories about my dad did more than fill in the blanks. It all just started getting interesting; the more I discovered, the more I wanted to know. It has been a process. I know more about who my dad really was now than I ever did, before he died," Mazzuchelli said.
Christmas bombings
"I looked over the flight log that my father had -- in 1944 he bombed on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Originally, they were only supposed to fly 19 missions. My dad flew 34. I don't even think it was the battles that got to him as much as it was the thought of the poor kids in England, who had to live in tunnels," Mazzuchelli said.
"They were just kids themselves -- 18- and 19-year-olds -- they were scared. They were dropping bombs on Christmas while their families back home were hoping and praying that they would just make it back alive," Mazzuchelli said. "My aunt told me that there had been a real bad mission, and a lot of guys from the Boston area were lost.
When their parents asked, 'How's Bruno? Is he OK?' My aunts reassured them that he was fine. But they didn't know -- they only believed it in their hearts, that he would come home safe, and they didn't want to worry their parents."
Mazzuchelli has to take a deep breath to finish his thought.
"I'm 63 years old, and I'm only now really appreciating what my family went through, what it meant to have a son in the war. It was a sacrifice, and it was tough, but he made it home and lived a good life. I'm so proud of my father's service, and I'm just so happy to know the stories, and pass them on to my daughters, and their children," Mazzuchelli said.
More treasures revealed
His father's death brought him another treasure -- a silver belt buckle inscribed with the words, "Gott Mit Uns," German for "God with us." Mazzuchelli's dad had given it as a trinket to a neighbor boy after his return from war.
"This was before he had kids of his own. I was happy to get it back, but what meant more was the story my dad had told him about how he got the buckle. He said that he was walking through a prison camp and a German prisoner asked him for a cigarette. My dad gave him some cigarettes, and the prisoner gave him his belt buckle in return. I love that story, even though, after all those years of smoking, it was those darned Camels that did my dad in," Mazzuchelli said.
Before the war, his father had worked as a salad chef at the Mount Washington Hotel. After the war he settled in Massachusetts, working as a salesman until he retired to Nashua.
After his mother died, Mazzuchelli inherited some new treasures -- including a pile of love letters his parents had exchanged during the war.
"She left a note with the letters, for her sons to find. She said she didn't remember our dad being such a romantic, until she reread the letters," Mazzuchelli said. "You could live your whole life not knowing any of this, but once you do, it gives you something special -- it really gives you a clear picture of who your parents were as people, long before you even existed."
CARL "BRUNO" MAZZUCHELLI never spoke a word about his service as a bomber pilot during World War II, at least not to his sons. By the time he returned from war and picked up where he left off with his young bride, Mazzuchelli was more than ready to tuck his experiences away, deep down somewhere, like most of the men of his generation.
Only rarely did they resurface, coaxed by a few drinks and neighbors who'd been over there, too -- their stories shared in colorful shorthand and hushed tones, while the children slept.
When Carl Mazzuchelli died in 1991 at the age of 75, his son, Frank Mazzuchelli of Derry, was left to sort through his father's belongings. What he found -- a pile of yellowed love letters tied with red ribbon, a silver belt buckle, a box of medals, a flight log -- were pieces of his father's past; puzzle pieces that led him to the rest of the story and created a proud legacy for generations of Mazzuchellis to come.
"I know I'm not the only one to feel this way. I just wanted to tell people that, if you have a family member who served in World War II who is still living, ask them about their experience before it's too late. My father never said a word. All the wonderful stories I've discovered, I only discovered because of what he left behind," Mazzuchelli said.
He starts with his father's old bomber jacket, which was always just hanging in the closet.
"Once, when I was 19, I threw it on to paint. It was just some old jacket of my dad's, as far as I was concerned. Look, the paint's still here," says Mazzuchelli, gently holding up the worn brown leather sleeve splattered in eggshell Latex.
Only after sifting through his father's personal items did he discover that the emblem on the back, "I'll Get By," was the name of the plane flown by his father's 568th Bomb Squadron.
War historians say the jacket is rare -- most pilots tossed them after the war. Although he's been told he could probably make thousands if he sold it, he prefers that his daughter, Alicia Harressey, wear it -- sort of like a hug from the grandfather she lost too soon.
It gets the most attention whenever she wears it to see the B-17s at New Hampshire Aviation Historical Society gatherings.
Sisters told stories
Some of the stories Mazzuchelli has gathered came from his father's sisters, who remembered everything about their brother's stint in the service.
"They told me about one time when my father landed in a field in England -- they couldn't quite make the runway, and a farmer's wife ran out to greet them.
She says, 'All I can give you are some eggs.' They were so grateful, and had so little to offer," says Mazzuchelli, his emotions spilling over for a moment.
"Learning these stories about my dad did more than fill in the blanks. It all just started getting interesting; the more I discovered, the more I wanted to know. It has been a process. I know more about who my dad really was now than I ever did, before he died," Mazzuchelli said.
Christmas bombings
"I looked over the flight log that my father had -- in 1944 he bombed on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Originally, they were only supposed to fly 19 missions. My dad flew 34. I don't even think it was the battles that got to him as much as it was the thought of the poor kids in England, who had to live in tunnels," Mazzuchelli said.
"They were just kids themselves -- 18- and 19-year-olds -- they were scared. They were dropping bombs on Christmas while their families back home were hoping and praying that they would just make it back alive," Mazzuchelli said. "My aunt told me that there had been a real bad mission, and a lot of guys from the Boston area were lost.
When their parents asked, 'How's Bruno? Is he OK?' My aunts reassured them that he was fine. But they didn't know -- they only believed it in their hearts, that he would come home safe, and they didn't want to worry their parents."
Mazzuchelli has to take a deep breath to finish his thought.
"I'm 63 years old, and I'm only now really appreciating what my family went through, what it meant to have a son in the war. It was a sacrifice, and it was tough, but he made it home and lived a good life. I'm so proud of my father's service, and I'm just so happy to know the stories, and pass them on to my daughters, and their children," Mazzuchelli said.
More treasures revealed
His father's death brought him another treasure -- a silver belt buckle inscribed with the words, "Gott Mit Uns," German for "God with us." Mazzuchelli's dad had given it as a trinket to a neighbor boy after his return from war.
"This was before he had kids of his own. I was happy to get it back, but what meant more was the story my dad had told him about how he got the buckle. He said that he was walking through a prison camp and a German prisoner asked him for a cigarette. My dad gave him some cigarettes, and the prisoner gave him his belt buckle in return. I love that story, even though, after all those years of smoking, it was those darned Camels that did my dad in," Mazzuchelli said.
Before the war, his father had worked as a salad chef at the Mount Washington Hotel. After the war he settled in Massachusetts, working as a salesman until he retired to Nashua.
After his mother died, Mazzuchelli inherited some new treasures -- including a pile of love letters his parents had exchanged during the war.
"She left a note with the letters, for her sons to find. She said she didn't remember our dad being such a romantic, until she reread the letters," Mazzuchelli said. "You could live your whole life not knowing any of this, but once you do, it gives you something special -- it really gives you a clear picture of who your parents were as people, long before you even existed."