About This Site

I hope you'll enjoy browsing the entries and pictures on this site. It is a tribute to my parents (utilizing many of my father's own photos) as well as to all members of the WWII generation. Take a peek into the past with me to the days when America's "Greatest Generation" went away to war.
Feel free to leave comments on any of the stories and pictures featured or use the email form at the bottom of the page to contact me.
—L.K. Campbell


Serving in "The War"

Daddy was at Fort Jackson in South Carolina when the war came to America on December 7, 1941.
In an April, 2001 newspaper article, he told a reporter, "I was eating Sunday dinner in the Wade Hampton Hotel with the Blackman family (a family he met while at Fort Jackson) when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. Where you were and what you were doing is just something you don't forget."
Daddy shipped out in May, 1942 to Ireland, and then went to Scotland to train for the North Africa campaign. He boarded a ship in Liverpool, England and sailed for Africa on Nov. 8, 1942. They landed in a port in Oran, Algeria, and worked their way up to Tunisia. Before the war, he'd trained as a medic and was called on to serve in that capacity during the North African campaign.
When the campaign in Africa was over, he was transferred from the Medical Corp. to the Signal Corp. He once told me that he wanted to volunteer for the Rangers but his C.O. talked him out of it. "The Rangers really took a beating at Anzio," Daddy said. "So that Captain's advice probably saved my life."
He moved to a little place above Oran where he was trained for the impending invasion of Italy. They landed in Italy in September, 1943 and "went through the whole boot, from the toe to the top" ending up at Lake Como, in the Italian Alps. "The most beautiful place in the world," Daddy often said.
He told me about the hard-fought battles in Italy. "Sometimes we were fighting house-to-house and door-to-door," he said. Daddy was awarded the Bronze Star for rushing into the line of fire to rescue a wounded child. "And Monte Cassino seemed to go no forever. We lost of a lot of good men there."
But he had some good memories, too. "The Italian people loved us," he said. "When we liberated a town, the people would run up to us shouting, 'Liberato!' and give us flowers and wine." One of his good buddies was an Italian-American who still had family in Florence. "They threw a party for us," Daddy said. "And fed us the best food I'd eaten since I left the states."
Having earned enough points, he came home on June 18, 1945. Three years and one month from day he'd shipped out.

The above photo was taken in Siena, Italy near the end of the war.

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