Part I: My journey with Pvt. Nicholas Polachek

I've written and said various things about Uncle Nick over the years, but I always circle back. It always begins the same, " In the early hours of June 6, 1944, Uncle Nick parachuted in German Occupied France and was never heard from again.".

That line was the end of his journey but the start of mine.

It would be easy to start Nick's story at the beginning of his life; however, I'd like to start where I entered the picture to provide a contemporary view.

Growing up, I heard the running joke my father told. It involved members of my mother's family betting friends that they could find the name "Polachek" on the Cleveland Veterans Memorial. We knew the name was there but I had been told we were of no relation.

The Polachek name on the Cleveland Veterans Monument.

To provide a bit of context, my mother's parents (Frank & Marge) died before I was born. I never met them or any of their siblings. I knew my mother's sister Kathy (and her children) but didn't know any other members of her family. I didn't meet my mother's brother until I was about 10 and I first learned of her other sister, Linda, around the same age. I'd met much older cousins of my mother's and over the years I've reached out to some other cousins (like my 2nd cousins from her family) but the honest truth is, 99% of the time they don't care to talk or know me.

My parents divorce was finalized in 1988 and my mother moved to Arizona, taking us with her. We returned to Cleveland each summer and every other Christmas to visit our father. He took us to Calvary Cemetery to visit the graves of our Polachek relatives. I remember thinking , " why do I care about visiting these random people I don't know?". When I moved to Cleveland full time, in 1995, I went to school with mostly Polish kids. Somewhere along the line I just assumed my mother's family was Polish because of their "chek" surname. When my father told me, " No, you are Ukrainian not Polish.", I stared at him and said, " Ukrainian?".

I have to give my father credit for taking us to Calvary to visit the graves our maternal relatives. Calvary is in a bad neighborhood and given the cold war relations between my parents - it was very unexpected.  I distinctly recall a hot July day when I was about 6. We went to the grave of my maternal grandparents.  It had been almost entirely overgrown with grass and we heard a groundskeeper doing some maintenance a few sections over. My father flagged down the worker with a weed whacker and requested he remove as much grass from the headstone as possible. He did a really good job. We then took the ashtray from the car, filled it with water via a nearby spigot, and did an impromptu wash of the grave. Then we posed for pictures.

My Grandma & Grandpa Polachek's grave at Calvary.

My father became interested in genealogy sometime in the 1990s. I went to Case Western Reserve Historical Society, a membership my grandmother bought him, with him to do research on several occasions. I was painfully bored as he searched card catalogs. I was just as bored as when we would visit my grandmother and she would sit in the kitchen recalling all these family details for him. I wanted them both to shut up so we could go to the park (or whatever it was) we came over to do with her. It seemed like an eternity that they sat there talking.

In 1999, I was back living in Arizona when I had a family tree project for school. I didn't get far with my mother's family - only going back to her grandparents, my great-grandparents.

Fast forward to 2004. My mother had a very old address book. I was helping her transfer entires into a new book. I constantly had to ask if so and so was still alive. One name stood out, Arlene Polachek. Who was this living Polachek I didn't know?

My mother told me Aunt Arlene was the wife of her paternal uncle (Steve). She had spent a lot of time at Aunt Arlene & Uncle Steve's home growing up. Aunt Arlene was described to me a sweet lady. From my Uncle Frank, I learned she enjoyed writing letters. At first I wasn't sure what to make of the fact that I didn't know her - was there bad blood? Why weren't we in contact? My mother assured me there was no bad blood and encouraged me to send her a letter.

At first I wasn't sure what to say. I told her the basics about myself and I really liked family history. I asked her if she'd like to correspond with me and tell me about the family. At the suggestion of my mother, I included a photo of myself from my HS graduation the year before.

She wrote back rather quickly. She was surprised to hear from me but was glad I had written her. She told me about all kinds of things. For example, her grandson has a birthday the day after mine (same year). We wrote back and forth religiously until 2011 when she died. She would sign her cards, " Love, Aunt Arlene" which initially shocked me. You love me? You don't even know me? She just immediately accepted me into the fold.

One day she sent me a written family tree on notebook paper. I knew all of the names except Nicholas. It was plain as day - KIA - Normandy - 6/6/44. I sat in disbelief, WTF? Nicholas was the name on the Veteran's Monument we would bet on and he was my grandfather's brother? It felt like the twilight zone.

I looked Nick's listing up on the ABMC website.

Nicholas Polachek
Private, U.S. Army
505th Parachute Infantry Regt, 82nd Airborne Division
Ohio
35521062
June 06, 1944

Wars or Conflicts:

World War II

 Buried:

Plot C Row 28 Grave 28

Normandy American Cemetery

Colleville-sur-Mer, France

I felt sick. I read Nick's obituary and my stomach dropped when I saw my grandfather's name. This all transpired while I was on the phone with my father. My father was a Vietnam Era Paratrooper. He said, " No, that can't be right. No, I don't think so. (that we were related)".  I sent him the link to see for himself. " Oh. My. God. This was Frank (my grandfather)'s brother? He jumped into D-Day?, Oh. My. God.".

I asked my mother what she knew about Nick. She was told he was killed during the first wave of the invasion. That was it, the grown ups didn't talk about it.

Aunt Arlene didn't know what happened to Nick on D-Day. She went on to say nobody in the family ever found answers. How could that be I wondered. Her next letter included an article on the cemetery where Nick was buried. At the bottom she wrote, " This is where Nick Polachek was buried after being killed on D-Day.".

Due to the NPRC fire, records from WWII are very difficult to come by. I wrote to NPRC and was told, " So sorry, Nick's records went up in the fire.". I moved to Seattle in 2006 and received this letter while living there. It also went on to say Nick may have been entitled to a Bronze Star if he was awarded a Combat Infantryman Badge.

Since the letter said only next-of-kin could file a "proper" request, I let it go. As the years went by, I looked at the letter often. I even wondered if Aunt Arlene could do the request as the surviving widow of Nick's brother.

I located the only known picture of Nick in the newspaper archives. I pulled Nick's IDPF (Casualty Soldier File) and learned his birthday. He died 15 days after he turned 28. I even read the letters my family sent pleading for answers. I also sent Aunt Arlene a copy of the IDPF, she was shocked at Melba's letters because she described Melba as painfully shy.

Letter from Nick's widow to the Army.

I learned nothing about his death;however, I noticed in addition to his wife & father - he left his benefits to Joe (Aunt Katie's son). Joe died in 2008 from Parkinson's. At the time he passed, I didn't know Nick had left Joe the benefits. To me this indicates they had a close relationship. Nick wanted to ensure Joe was provided for. I wish I would have asked Joe about Nick.

Nick's report of death.

In 2012, I had enough. I wrote a letter to Senator McCain explaining the problem and telling him about Nick. That February, NPRC & Army Command notified me that they had verified Nick's entitlement to the Bronze Star Medal. My mission was complete as I knew I couldn't get his medals because I was not next-of-kin. To my surprise, the Army sent Senator McCain all of Nick's certificates.

Two weeks later I got a call from McCain's office. Did I want to pick up Nick's documents or have them mailed? They arrived 2 days later via mail.

It was a victory but my questions persisted, what happened to Nick and why can't someone or anyone for that matter tell me?

In my search I contacted Joe's daughter Judy.  She described a pop up paratrooper Easter card sent to Aunt Katie by Nick. It was the last letter that would make it home. Somehow he predicted the invasion. How that got past the wartime censors is beyond me.  Nick was sure he would be fine - he told Katie not to worry about him because she'd make herself sick with worry.

Judy asked why I was doing all of this and I wasn't quite sure how to respond - it was the right thing to do, that's why.

Several years ago my mother was in a very bad car accident. She received a significant settlement and part of that money was ear marked for France. We were going to see Nick. My mother is over the moon to finally "meet" her Uncle Nick. I think that's it for now. Next week I will write the story as Nick saw and experienced it.

Artifacts of War

When I was younger, I remember asking my father about Vietnam. Specifically, I remember asking him why he enlisted. He thought for a minute and then replied. His reason? He decided he wanted to go to war on his own terms not because he was drafted.

I think this move was completely unexpected by my grandparents. They both had Master's Degrees and emphasized education. It was expected that my father would also matriculate to college.

If you haven't already figured it out, I have a special place in my heart for paratroopers. Yes, I am the daughter of a Vietnam Era Paratrooper.  He's never spoken at length about his service with any members of the family. The most I ever heard was, " I got shot at and shot at other people.". This isn't uncommon amongst returning Veterans. I knew better than to ask questions that would not be answered. He kept his dress uniform in our living room closet and his combat boots were strung up in the basement.

I grew up going to the VFW / American Legion Post in Brook Park. There were of course Friday Night Fish Fry's. My father would have "adult" conversations and we were given money to play skee ball. Or eat the god awful stale popcorn. If we ran out of money for the machines that was it, no more. As I write this next part I cringe, I remember "finding" quarters on the edges of pool tables thinking some sap left them. Once I checked all the tables for quarters I would return to the machines. Oh how I must have pissed people off.

My father, Summer 1969 in Vietnam - 173rd Airborne.

One time I was talking with him about my mother's Uncle Nick who was an 82nd Airborne paratrooper. I remember him saying " no no no, you are closer to the 173rd, remember that patch, we were the "sky soldiers"."

In 1969, he purchased a Canon FT at Camp Radcliff for $137. It was his first big purchase with his newly promoted E-3 status. When he returned from Vietnam, he converted a basement room in my grandparent's home, into a dark room. I've often wondered, if throwing himself into photography, was a coping mechanism in response to the Dear John letter from his first wife.

Original instruction booklet for the FT along with the payroll deduction form.

Receipts for the FT.

Growing up my father had his trusty Canon FT Camera. It was a prized possession and I remember it well. Where we went, the camera went. On trips around town he would pose with my sister or I - he always took photos of just us girls as well. This meant one of us girls had to take the photo. He would explain what to do and mostly pre-set the camera so we only had to 1. hold it steady 2. make sure we didn't put our fingers over the lens 3. not change any of the settings he set 4. take duplicates in case the first one turned out bad. In some family photos, the camera itself (obviously the photo was taken with another camera) appears.

In 2003, I graduated High School. Later that summer, Emily & went to visit him.

Near the end of the visit, he presented me with the camera. It felt like a honor to have it but I quickly realized it wasn't the same as the lens was "dirty" looking.

Around 2005/2006 I took a photography class at our local community college. It was a class for manual film cameras. We had to take, develop, print, and mount our own photos. My step-dad, who is a photographer, gave me a Nikon to shoot with. During the class I learned about Edward Steichen and he is hands down my favorite photographer. Steichen summed it up perfectly:

 "Photography is a major force in explaining man to man." 

I, personally, have always captivated by the human condition, city lights, and skylines. Before Patriots Square Park was demolished it was a de facto homeless camp in the heart of downtown Phoenix. I would drive downtown to try and capture my fascinations on "photo safari's". I used zoning to capture candid images of the homeless and I tried to sneak on the roof of as many buildings (and parking garages) that I could. For this reason, I never used my Dad's camera. There were times I thought, "what if I drop and break it?" or "what if a bum tries to steal it from me?" and it wasn't a gamble I was willing to take.

During my class I took the FT to Tempe Camera to have it cleaned and have the "dirty" lens looked at. It was the focal-plane shutter that I later repaired. Even now, the camera rarely makes appearances. If your home was burning down, what would you try to save?

As for me, I'd make a mad dash for the camera.

Brothers of War

I have so many exciting updates about France to share but those must wait!

We are currently in the midst of home renovations and I have limited access to my records. This is somewhat shorter than I initially planned given the circumstances.

I've written about my late Grandfather, Frank J. Polachek, and his military service. Tonight I'd like to share a bit about each of his brothers that served during WWII (excluding Nick). My plan is to write about each of them during the year so this will just be military service.

Below are the search results from NARA showing the enlistment records of all the Polachek brothers (minus Wesley who did not serve).

 The National Archives: World War II Army Enlistment Records, created 6/1/2002 - 9/30/2002, documenting the period ca. 1938 - 1946 -Record Group 64 

I'm uncertain why Uncle Mike & my Grandfather did not enter active service in Cleveland when Uncle Steve & Uncle Nick did. Perhaps there is no rhyme or reason. Uncle Mike was inducted at Camp Perry (Lacarne) that was several counties away from Cleveland (Cuyahoga County), in Ottawa County. Of note, Lacarne was used as a POW camp during WWII. We have no known ties to this area. Similarly, my Grandfather was inducted a state over at Fort Benjamin Harrison (not too far from Indianapolis, IN). We also do not have ties to IN.

Michael (Mike) was the third child born in 1908. According to Aunt Arlene, Uncle Mike was over Army age restrictions during WWII. Indeed he would have been 34 at the time he enlisted. As such he was kept stateside and used as an Army Bartender in TX for the duration of the war.

After the war Uncle Mike married Aunt (Amelia) Minnie. He worked mostly in the restaurant industry and had two children. He died from brain cancer in 1981.

Most of what I know about Uncle Steve's service comes from Aunt Arlene. He was the first to enlist in  February 1941 and was discharged in January 1946. He served as a 1/Lt. with the 37th Infantry which was a National Guard division from Ohio nicknamed the "Buckeye Infantry". Uncle Steve was overseas from May 1942 - August 1945.

In one letter she sent me, Aunt Arlene talked about her "mail system". This involved walking up to a store on Broadway and purchasing a bright blue stationary set. Although she wrote Uncle Steve she also corresponded with all the other Polachek boys. Using this stationary. according to her, made sure that , " They didn't have to wait to hear their names called at mail call. They could see they had a letter and if it was blue, they knew it was from me.".

Steve Polachek

Of note in letters from Aunt Arlene, she talks about how difficult it was for her when Uncle Steve was gone. Another letter talks about how the mail would "stop". She didn't know exactly where Steve was, they weren't allowed to tell, so she had no way of knowing if an "action" was going on. Was he injured? Was he dead? What was going on, where was the mail? Several nerve wracking weeks would pass that she would try to occupy herself. Then the mail would start again as if nothing happened. Sometimes several letters would suddenly arrive at once and she would feel one thing: Relief, because that meant from the date of the letter she knew he was still alive.

I wish I would have asked her if she knew how he found out about Nick's death. If it was during or after the war. It's my understanding that, fearing for the mental stability of troops in combat, many families withheld information like this until the soldier returned home. Or if the family did tell him - who was responsible for that letter? Aunt Katie? Aunt Martha? Aunt Arlene?

From November 6-19, 1943, the 37th Infantry landed in Bougainville (Solomon Islands). This included Uncle Steve who later received a Bronze Star for actions on March 24, 1944. In addition to the Bronze Star, he also was the recipient a Medal for the Liberation of Manila from the Philippine Government (among other honors).

Bougainville was an interesting campaign. In 1942 the Japanese occupied the small island. After many blood thirsty months, the allies managed to drive the Japanese to a remote area of the island. The Japanese remained in this remote area, having no contact with the allies, for the remainder of the war.

After the war he returned and made Aunt Arlene a very happy lady, can you guess? He married her! Uncle Steve had a variety of jobs in schools, athletics, and sales. My mother recalls him selling cars for a period. They went on to have 6 children and he passed away in 1977.

Frank, Steve, and Mike were all buried in Calvary Catholic Cemetery in Cleveland, Ohio. In her later years, Aunt Arlene, enjoyed visiting Calvary on days when the graves of local Veterans were decorated with flags. (Cuyahoga County maintains a database of the burial sites for local Veterans. Mostly composed by way of discharges on file with the county recorder.) One year she went, she noticed my Grandfather's grave lacked a flag. In her words, she "gave them hell" over the slight and would check he had a flag each proceeding year.

The Recruiter at East Tech

Yesterday I learned that Congress designed May as Military Appreciation Month in 1999.  For that reason, I've decided that my entires for the month of May will focus on Veterans.

While researching some of the Veterans in my family it became clear that some had more "glamorous" service than others. Some sat on the sidelines, some never even left the city, some went across the globe to fight, some never came back, and some returned hoping to just forget the war.

My paternal Grandfather was, a US Navy Yeoman, Sterlie Miles of Cleveland, Ohio.

Circa 2004 I was taking PSYCH 101 at Mesa Community College. Coincidentally, the adjunct professor was a working Psychiatrist at the Phoenix VA Hospital. Even now, I can still recall the day she said something in lecture that clicked with me - it explained my grandfather's military service, more to the point, why. I had heard from my father why my grandfather never left the city during the war but I couldn't imagine it was systematic.

She started by saying the military previously used a policy of not sending educated individuals into combat. Off hand I want to say it was Alpha Something Policy but I'm grasping at straws with the name. Those individuals, that enlisted or were drafted - and had completed an education level higher than HS were kept out of combat as a matter of policy. There were instances where those with a higher education were sent into combat but it was very rare. Primarily, this occurred during WWII. A few years ago, I learned this same policy kept my grandmother's brother out of combat as well.

My Grandfather's mother Estelle was the daughter of Bohemian (Czech) immigrants. The family immigrated during a period of Czech discrimination. They undoubtedly faced slurs as "Dirty Bohunks". This, by all accounts, caused Estelle to stress the importance of education and propel my grandfather's education.

He was sent to East Technical HS in Cleveland, Ohio. The first trade school in the city. East Tech opened it's doors in 1908, the same year my grandfather was born, and counts many famous alumni such as Olympian Jesse Owens. For years, the school was an athletic powerhouse locally. In 1926 my Grandfather graduated and that same year became an employee of the Cleveland Board of Education.

After graduating from East Tech, his movements become a bit blurry. The below photo was taken circa 1927 at Patrick Henry Jr. High in Cleveland. My grandfather is the only adult in the photo. Of note, the student over his left shoulder is my grandmother's brother who would later become his brother-in-law.

Per the East Tech Scarab newspaper, my grandfather was teaching AV classes at Patrick Henry during this time. Perhaps he was trying to earn money for college tuition or was simply taking a gap year.

Circa 1928, he began his studies at Case (before it merged with Western Reserve to become Case Western Reserve) University. He earned a BS in political science and a MA in Science & Math before 1942.  In 1935 he began teaching at Patrick Henry and was hired on at East Tech in 1939 to teach social studies.

On September 29, 1942 he enlisted in the US Navy as a recruiter. The Navy promptly moved him to another office in the school while he performed his recruiting duties. That's right, my grandfather never even left his physical workplace (from before the war) even though his employer changed.

Since he was a teacher he was " prized for his affinity to connect with the target group ".  For the duration of WWII, my grandfather, worked as Navy Recruiter in the halls of East Tech HS.

During the war, he met and later married my grandmother Dorothy.

In March of 1946 he was discharged and resumed full time teaching duties. My grandparents went on to settle in Cleveland Heights, OH and raise 4 children. He was very involved in his Masonic Lodge. He was a 50 year Master Mason and served as a Grand Master of his lodge. Grandpa went on to retire from East Tech and died in 1988.