"There is so much I have to tell you."
--from "The Dance"
--from "The Dance"
The lanky fellow on the right is William G. “Bill” Presnell. It’s 1943. Soon, he'll board the USS Argentina which will take him across the ocean to England where he'll join thousands of other American soldiers as they storm Omaha Beach and begin a move across Europe that will push back the Germans and end the world war.
In 2014, while digging through my father's army trunk which I’d removed from my mother’s house after her death, I uncovered his World War II memorabilia: a journal, a scrapbook, 3000 photographs, a map, letters, and more. I remembered how much the war meant to him, a 1st Sergeant in the 30th Infantry Division, known as “Roosevelt’s SS.”
“Let’s go,” I said to my husband. “Let’s follow this map.” Before our plans had formed, both my brother and my sister had invited themselves on this journey across Europe.
In 2014, we all set out together, traveling Europe in a 5-passenger van, meeting with people who had a story to tell. Repeatedly, we sensed our father’s presence—on Fox Red at Omaha Beach, at Hill 314 in Mortain, France, in Fort Eben Emael in Belgium, in the Rolduc Abbey in the Netherlands, in the faces of two little girls in Malmedy in the Ardennes Forest in Belgium.
But when we stood on the banks of the Elbe River in Germany, where in 1945 our father had put his arms around the shoulders of two Russian soldiers and posed for a photograph, we finally found the man who had left us so many years before.
Below, read parts of that journey and meet those we met with stories to tell and emotions still very close to the surface of their lives.
In 2014, while digging through my father's army trunk which I’d removed from my mother’s house after her death, I uncovered his World War II memorabilia: a journal, a scrapbook, 3000 photographs, a map, letters, and more. I remembered how much the war meant to him, a 1st Sergeant in the 30th Infantry Division, known as “Roosevelt’s SS.”
“Let’s go,” I said to my husband. “Let’s follow this map.” Before our plans had formed, both my brother and my sister had invited themselves on this journey across Europe.
In 2014, we all set out together, traveling Europe in a 5-passenger van, meeting with people who had a story to tell. Repeatedly, we sensed our father’s presence—on Fox Red at Omaha Beach, at Hill 314 in Mortain, France, in Fort Eben Emael in Belgium, in the Rolduc Abbey in the Netherlands, in the faces of two little girls in Malmedy in the Ardennes Forest in Belgium.
But when we stood on the banks of the Elbe River in Germany, where in 1945 our father had put his arms around the shoulders of two Russian soldiers and posed for a photograph, we finally found the man who had left us so many years before.
Below, read parts of that journey and meet those we met with stories to tell and emotions still very close to the surface of their lives.
Essay from the journey:
"The Belt Buckle" (South Writ Large, Fall 2016)
Vince and Marcel, two "crazy Belgians," meet us at the Margraten American Cemetery in the Netherlands with a big surprise which encourages us to question what it means to be a Southerner, especially in Europe.
Vince and Marcel, two "crazy Belgians," meet us at the Margraten American Cemetery in the Netherlands with a big surprise which encourages us to question what it means to be a Southerner, especially in Europe.
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