“Today, December 7, 1941, is a day that will live in infamy.” –
President Franklin Delano Roosevelt.
Those were the words that John Joseph Hague heard over the radio
that Sunday afternoon, after the man known as Jack went to St. Joseph’s Church
in Jersey City for Mass with his young wife that he called Helen and his
1-year-old son known as Jackie.
Later that day, Jack Hague went to P.S. 23 in Jersey City and with
hundreds of others motivated by FDR’s address to the country, enlisted in the
United States Army.
Jack didn’t have to enlist, because he was a married man with a
young child. But he did anyway, much to the chagrin to his beautiful little
Polish wife.
“I can’t say home, honey,” Jack said to Helen or Helaine or Helene
or Helcha, whatever name she went by in her life. “If I stay home, others will
look at me like there’s something wrong with me. I’ll be half a man. I can’t do
that. I have to go and defend my country.”
So Jack enlisted and a day later he was gone. He spent a few weeks
in training in Fort Benning in Georgia and was soon shipped off to ports of
call all over Europe.
And on June 6, 1944, PFC John J. Hague was with his military
comrades hitting the beaches of Normandy in France. Jack was among the fifth
wave of soldiers to reach the beaches in Normandy, along with famous people
like Baseball Hall of Famers Yogi Berra and Joe “Ducky” Medwick.
PFC John J. Hague, near the Eiffel Tower in 1945
No one knows the fear that Jack faced on that fateful day 76 years
ago today. He wasn’t permitted to share his stories with his children, although
he did relay his stories to his devoted wife.
Jack somehow survived the D-Day invasion at Normandy, the most
important day in United States military history.
In fact, he spent the next nine months in France and Belgium,
doing his best to help America’s cause against the enemy forces. He had to have
killed enemy soldiers, but that was never discussed.
In Feburary of 1945, Jack was with 15 of his platoon in a fox hole
in Belgium. Disaster soon struck. A bomb hit the fox hole, killing everyone in
the fox hole except PFC Hague.
Jack suffered serious wounds, including shrapnel wounds and a
broken back. But he somehow survived the bombing. For three weeks, he tried and
tried to dig his way to the top of the hole with the hope of someone rescuing
him. He had no use of his legs, so everything was done with his upper body. He survived
by eating the rations of his fallen comrades. A man of incredible faith as an
Irish Catholic, he prayed and prayed that he somehow make it home to Helen and
Jackie.
Meanwhile, at home in Jersey City, young Helen Hague, all of 25
years old at the time, received a telegram from the United States Army that PFC
John J. Hague was MIA (missing in action) and presumed KIA (killed in action)
in Belgium.
Helen relayed the message to Jack’s seven sisters and two brothers
the contents of the telegram. Soon after, the sisters organized a memorial Mass
for their brother at St. Joseph’s, but Helen wouldn’t go. She insisted that her
husband was not dead. Needless to say, that approach didn’t go over well with
the Hague sisters, but Helen had that weird sixth, maybe seventh sense. It was
eerie the way Helen knew what was going on.
Sure enough, after 21 days covered in dirt and debris, PFC Hague
somehow made it to the top of the hole and was rescued. He was airlifted to a
hospital in Paris to repair his back and wounds.
Incredibly, almost amazingly, while in the hospital with the
broken back and in a body cast, the U.S. Military Hospital in Paris was bombed
and PFC Hague was thrown from his hospital bed, causing the cast to break and
he had to be refitted for his body cast. That’s how Jack received the second of
his Purple Hearts, the initial wounds suffered in Belgium and then the hospital
bombing.
After recovering in another Paris hospital, PFC Hague was deemed
fit for further duty, but luckily, VE Day took place in Europe. Jack’s prayers
from that destroyed fox hole were answered. He was sent home to Helen and
Jackie, who was almost five at the time and had to be reintroduced to his
Daddy.
Jack never fully recovered from the back injuries. He tried to go
back to his job at General Motors in Edison, but he couldn’t stand the
physicality of the job, so he had to step away. He took the Civil Service test
and got a job working in the automotive division of the Jersey City Public
Works, eventually becoming a supervisor, then assistant superintendent of Public
Works until his passing to cancer on Dec. 31, 1971.
But after he came home safely from Europe, Jack and Helen had two
more children, daughter Jayne and son James, namely me.
So on this anniversary of the D-Day Invasion, a day that changed
the course of history in our great country, I remember that brave soldier who
overcame so much and made it back home.
And now, nearly 50 years after his untimely death at age 54, I am
that soldier’s living legacy. And I live every single day of my now 59 years on
the planet trying to be the man that Jack Hague was. He still lives on in my
heart and I still miss him terribly. I was gypped out of having a long time
with my father, but I did have 10 years of memories.
And if he didn’t survive the D-Day Invasion on Normandy Beach some
76 years ago today, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy doing what I do, writing and
sharing stories.
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