My personal memories of Memorial Day growing up aren’t unlike many others in the United States. The official kickoff to the summer season was a day reserved for barbecues, swimming, and spending time with family.
But as I grew older and began asking questions - including learning about personal sacrifices made by members of my own family - the holiday took on another meaning. Now I feel obligated to make certain that while those fundamentally important American traditions I just mentioned are upheld, that people also look at the bigger picture.
You hear this every year, I know. The “true” meaning of Memorial Day. Sometimes it sounds as if you’re being scolded for enjoying yourself, and I don’t think that’s fair. I’ll venture to say most people aren’t ignorant or bad Americans because they celebrate the holiday without giving much thought to what it means. Even when they mistakenly - and with every good intention, I believe - thank our living veterans for their service on this sacred day, its okay. I do think most people mean well. But it’s not what Memorial Day is for.
Let’s all remember why we celebrate, and most importantly, why we should REMEMBER on this day.
Memorial Day will always be a remembrance to honor those brave men and women who gave their lives for their country: the brave souls who were mowed down by German machine gun fire on the Norman beaches of Utah and Omaha, those who died in bloody Vietnamese clashes at Khe Sahn, Ia Drang, and Dak To, or the heroes who valiantly fought and gave all on the sands of Iraq and Afghanistan. There are far too many instances in the history of American warfare to name here. But for me, it’s about two 21-year-old American tankers who gave everything they had on May 28, 1944.
This Memorial Day is particularly poignant, as it happens to fall on the exact day Pvt. Dorel Earley and T/5 John Dougherty were killed in action in Italy.
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| Dorel Lyman Earley |
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| John Joseph Dougherty |
If these two men could speak today, I’m almost certain they would say they were just doing their jobs. Unfortunately, doing that job resulted in their having to make the supreme and ultimate sacrifice for our country.
Sunday, May 28, 1944 saw the U.S. Fifth Army, along with Dougherty and Earley’s 751st Tank Battalion, heavily involved in the breakout of the Anzio beachhead following months of a relative stalemate.
On May 27, Dorel wrote his final letter to his parents, and as always, carefully avoided mentioning any danger he faced:
“You ask me to fill up my sheets more. Well I can’t tell you what I do, because everything I do is censored. As to those evenings off, I don’t get any evenings off. We are here for a different purpose than that. This life is no fun, but there is no use bitching about it.
I’ll write as often as possible, so if you don’t here [sic], don’t worry. Keep writing.
Love,
Dorel
P.S. The news ought to sound pretty good now.”
On June 5, 1944, just one day after the Allies had rolled victorious through the streets of Rome, Henrietta Earley wrote to her son, unaware he had not lived to see the capture of the city.
“We did enjoy your swell letters, two of them last week, and the last one mailed May 26 got here June 1. Can’t believe it, makes us feel we aren’t so far apart. We of course imagine where you are dear every day, and just hope and pray it won’t be long before we are all together again, and if we have as good news along as we did yesterday, it can’t be long. We couldn’t help but wonder if our dear boy had his hand in it at Rome, but at least you are helping to bring it all about. What a proud feeling that must be to you, no matter how hard and dark things are at times, but we just have faith that you will be back perfect and how proud and happy we will all be. God bless you dear.”
Henrietta and John Earley would continue to write Dorel until June 5, 1944, when they received word he was missing in action. Later, those letters would find their way back to them marked “return to sender: deceased.” Meanwhile in Italy, graves registration troops had discovered his destroyed M5A1 Stuart tank, which had been hit by anti-tank fire on May 28 in the town of Valletri, roughly 24 miles south of Rome.
Recently, a Facebook acquaintance located the approximate spot the Stuart was knocked out and later found, which was among farm fields southwest of Valletri. Reports indicate Dorel and Dougherty’s tank had been on its way up the road (Via Colle Ottone Basso, most likely) to relieve several on the line when it was hit twice.
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| Approximate location where Dorel Earley and John Dougherty's M5A1 Suart was located by graves registration in 1944. |
Dorel Earley was found dead in the driver’s seat, John Dougherty next to him in the assistant driver’s spot. The tank commander, Sgt. Robert Wilson, and gunner PFC Leo Carver, had somehow survived the two rounds that penetrated the Stuart’s armor. Reports did not specify exactly what hit the tank, but according to the 751st Tank Battalion after action report, German anti-tank defenses in the area consisted mostly of 88mm dual purpose guns and Mark VI tanks, called Panzers.
The 751st’s D company - comprised of M5A1 light tanks - had been attached to the 143rd Infantry Regiment of the 36th Infantry Division in its assault of Valletri; its capture was a key victory in the final push into Rome.
On July 16, 1944, the dreaded Western Union telegrams arrived at 828 South Elizabeth Street in San Diego, California, and 1232 Buttonwood Street, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, respectively.
While Henrietta and John Earley mourned the loss of their second son in less than seven months, nearly 3,000 miles away James Dougherty also grieved for his own son, along with John’s young wife Mary and his sister Catherine.
Dorel Earley was eventually returned to the United States and interred with his older brother Lyle at Greenwood Memorial Park. John Dougherty’s family, however, chose for him to remain undisturbed at the Sicily-Rome American Cemetery in Nettuno, Italy. Today he rests in plot I, row 10, grave 41.
I often think about the sacrifice these two young men made, even beyond Memorial Day. And while it is certainly tragic for their lives to have been cut short, their families forever scarred, I try and think of another man I met about 15 years ago, whose life was in some ways owed to the brave and selfless service of people like my uncle Dorel Earley, and John Dougherty.
That man’s name was David Faber.
While browsing a San Diego bookstore in the late 1990’s, Mr. Faber approached me during the promotion of a book he’d written, “Because of Romek.”
Born in Poland in 1928 and of Jewish ancestry, Faber’s family was rounded up by the SS following the German invasion of the country in 1939. Several members of his family were slaughtered, and he would eventually be sent to nine different concentration camps. Only he and his sister would survive the war, and he later penned the book in honor of his brother Romek, who was murdered while being interrogated by the Gestapo.
I listened to him for several moments as he told the harrowing story of his life, how he’d survived in the face of pure evil, and somehow even managed to fight the Germans alongside Soviet guerrilla forces. I almost gasped as he rolled up his sleeve to show me the number the SS had tattooed onto his forearm, placed there to keep track of him as if he were livestock. The experience of seeing that tattoo and speaking to Mr. Faber would be forever etched into my memory. And later, as I learned more about Dorel’s service and his death, I couldn’t help the sense of pride I felt knowing how men such as he and John Dougherty gave all to help eradicate such evil from the world. While their tanks didn’t directly liberate any concentration camps, their service - along with both of my grandfathers - helped to put an end to that madness.
While recently researching for my book about my family in WWII, I began thinking about Mr. Faber again. I was saddened to learn he’d passed in 2015 before I had a chance to reconnect with him, to tell him how much our meeting meant to me. Then I discovered he was buried at Greenwood Memorial Park in San Diego, not far from where Dorel Earley rests.
How appropriate, I thought.
Happy Memorial Day.
