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Photo of John "Chick" Gigarjian (left) and my dad, John Bell Power, taken on 20 January 1945 at my parents' wedding.
John Gigarjian (left) and my dad, 20 January 1945

For the longest time, I had no idea who the fellow on the left side of this photo was. This is one of five photographs in which he appears amongst the twenty-three photos taken at my parents’ wedding, on 20 January 1945. I knew him only as my dad’s best man.

No names appear on the back of the photos. No names were written on the pages of the album that the photos once occupied. I recall that the album had a deep wine-coloured covered and was bound with rivet-like posts—two or maybe three of them—and I seem to recall a decorative cord. The pages were black (like construction paper) and the photos were held to them with photo mounting corners.

On my parents’ Certificate of Marriage, the Witnesses’ names identified Dad’s Best Man as John Gigarten.

Mom and Dad’s Certificate of Marriage

For as long as I’ve had the Certificate of Marriage, I had never paid much attention to the writing on it. I had always assumed that the Witnesses’ names were signatures. Therefore, why would someone not spell his name correctly. Of course, had I taken the time to scrutinize the document just a wee bit, I would have noticed that the handwriting was identical. It’s possible that Gladys, mom’s best friend and Maid of Honour, had written the names in. Maybe Mom did, although the handwriting doesn’t quite look like hers. The priest perhaps? Someone in the church’s office?

I’ll never know, of course.

Years ago, when the internet was still rather in its infancy, I had a trial account at Ancestry, and I searched for John Gigarten in Ancestry’s database. Nothing. Not one single result came up. I probably even used my pre-Google search engine of the day, AltaVista. Nada. It seemed that there was not a human being on the planet with the name Gigarten. It never occurred to me at the time that the name was misspelled because again, I had assumed—without close scrutiny—that he signed the document and how is it possible that he would have written the wrong name? It was nothing short of baffling.

Fast forward to October of 2017…

I had work in Boston photographing a conference, so while I was there, I visited the YF-415 memorial for the Black sailors who were killed in that disaster, which is on the site of the former Hingham Naval Ammunition Depot (now Bare Cove Park), and later that day met the divers who discovered the wreckage of the YF-415 in 2002. (It was a weird coincidence that one of the divers, Bob Foster, attended Bowling Green State University at the same time I had, and that we had a mutual friend.) When the conference was over, I took a train to New York so that I could meet one of my dad’s ship mates, Isidore “Teddy” Bertone, who has been a driving force for this research project of mine. We met while a videographer recorded our meeting. While Teddy and I talked, I showed him my parents’ wedding pictures and when the above picture of my dad and his best man came up, Teddy excitedly exclaimed, “Chick!”

He explained that “Chick” was a cook on the Zircon, and then showed me a picture from shipmate Frank DeRupo’s wedding—”Chick” was the same guy in my parents wedding pictures! He was DeRupo’s best man, too. In all likelihood, “Chick” was probably a really great guy, but I’ve also wondered if maybe he was so popular because he was the ship’s cook (SC1c) and no one wanted to get on his bad side. I also wonder how many times he served as someone’s best man.

Sailors (from left): unknown, Teddy Bertone, Frank DeRupo, Gigarjian, Anthony Susinno, Mario Saponaro

When I returned from the trip, I began in earnest seeking out more living Zircon sailors. Because the YF-415 disaster was forefront in my mind with regard to the information I was seeking, I downloaded all of the Zircon’s Muster Rolls and Reports of Changes and set about trying to figure out who was aboard the Zircon on 11 May 1944. As I created my spreadsheet, I came across the name Gigarjian on one of the muster rolls, and a light went on.

So “Gigarten” was probably due to someone having misheard a name. Or perhaps my mom and dad weren’t familiar enough with John to know how he actually spelled his name, despite that Dad had spent two years with him aboard the Zircon, so took a guess without asking him. Maybe my dad always thought his name was Gigarten.

My older brother Mike, who has been working on our family’s genealogical history for probably twenty years created a “family tree” of Zircon and YF-415 crew members using his Ancestry account. He made a profile for Gigarjian within the tree, and I uploaded the wedding photographs I have of him to the profile. Not long after that, we received a note from one of Gigarjian’s daughter’s with regard to the photographs as she had never seen them before. It occurred to me then to create a Facebook group where we could come together to share photos, stories, documents… anything related to our fathers’ service on the Zircon. As of today, the group has about 170 members representing about a quarter or so of the 400-plus sailors that served on the ship at one point during its five-year commission.

Living in these times with the internet, it’s easy to forget the days when getting in touch with someone who lived a thousand miles away was either a chore (writing letters) or a major expense (long-distance telephone calls). I recall well my mom’s frugality with regards to household expenses. For example, once I traveled to Chicago alone, and Mom wanted me to call her collect when I got there. She would refuse the call, of course, as she only wanted to know that I arrived OK.

So it probably was with my dad and his former ship mates. The cheaper long-distance rates didn’t kick in until after 11:00 P.M. on weekdays, and as my dad rarely stayed up beyond 11:30 (he’d hit the sack after watching the local news), it’s unlikely he would have called Chick. I believe that the same rates applied to the weekends, so it’s possible that if Dad had wanted to catch up with Chick or anyone else he’d served with, he would have done it at that time, but I just don’t recall him ever spending that much time on the phone with anyone. Besides, nine months out of the year, his weekends were spent either playing golf or watching it (and baseball) on television.

4th Commissioning Anniversary Dinner

On Sunday, 25 March 1945, a dinner commemorating the fourth anniversary of the Zircon’s commissioning was held at a rooftop banquet room at Hotel St. George in Brooklyn, New York, not far from the Navy Pier. I have no idea if the entire crew was allowed to attend. I assume that with the war in Europe winding down—Victory in Europe Day was less than two months away—the Zircon’s services weren’t urgently needed, so… probably?

The program for the evening included the ship’s entire roster (or “rooster as it reads on the page!), but there’s no way of knowing how many people actually attended.

Program (click for larger version)… I wonder who did the artwork

At the time of the dinner, and as noted on the cover page, four of the ship’s original crew, or Plank Holders (or alternately, Plank Owners), were still with the ship. My dad wasn’t in attendance as he had been transferred from the Zircon to the YMS-75 a couple of months earlier. The number of officers on board by this time had been trimmed to just five:

Lieutenant James Loren Cook, Jr., Commanding Officer
Lieutenant Richard Prescott True, Executive Officer
Julius George Sills, First Lieutenant
Lieutenant Charles Andrew Blocher, Communications Officer
Lieutenant (j.g.) Ned Landis Lamprecht, Engineering Officer

Ralph Patrick AnnunziataFrancis Lawrence MacDonald
Fausto Plaganas ApostolPaul Magera
Edward Richard AusfeldtRichard Edward Mercer
Edward BabishCarl Lester Miller
Alvin Edward BarberAnthony Nigro
William Eugene BarnettEdwin Lathrope Oakley, Jr.
Richard Roy BeckwithThomas Augustine O’Neil
Frank Walter BernardWill P. Parker, Jr.
Isidore (“Teddy”) BertoneWalter Leo Parks
Frank Paul BielskisArdrey Vernon Peyton
Richard Harold BlustWilliam Ganeric Petrushonis
Otto Martin BoernerJames William Plant, Jr.
James Rudolph BurtonLouis Rene Richards
Raymond ButlerJames Michael Riley
Raymond Francis CarpenterIrwin Rubin
Charles LaVern DamonAngel Louis Ruiz
Charles Brant DeerTommie Rush, Jr.
Frank Nicholas DeRupoWilliam Richard Salomons, Jr.
Max Earl DeyMario Patrick Saponaro
Arlo Eugene EllisPeter Anthony Schmanski
Pete Richard FederoffGeorge Preston Seybolt
Richard Hamilton GarrisonIsiah Smith
John GigarjianLasal Smith
Buford Aubry GriggsTheodore Soltys
Louis Harper, Jr.Harrison Stone
Odis HendersonAnthony Charles Susinno
Joseph Ovila HuardLeonard Francis Therrien
Joseph Henry Hoser, Jr.Elster Johannessen Tufte
George Waldo HumphreyWilliam Walter Turney
Daniel Frederick HurleyLester Burton Wood
Rinaldo Biagio IannettoneIra LaFlorrid Zeek
Lonnie Johnson
Sailors I’ve been able to identify are in bold

A photograph was taken that evening by Knickerbocker Pictures, which appears either to have had a contract with Hotel St. George or was simply the photographer of choice by the hotel’s events coordinator, as I’ve seen several group photos on eBay which were taken at the hotel and had the Knickerbocker imprint on them.

4th Commissioning Anniversary Dinner (click for larger version)

When I received the group photograph to scan, I hadn’t paid much attention to the date, so I thought perhaps my dad was amongst the crowd. As my eyes went from face to face, I was disappointed to not see his, but my jaw dropped when I saw the face of my mom’s best friend, Gladys Osier, who attended the dinner with Dad’s Best Man, John Gigarjian. I would later confirm with Gladys, who was Mom’s Maid of Honour, that the two of them went out a few times after my parents’ wedding.

Considering the number of sailors on the roster versus the number of sailors in the photograph, I’m guessing that it was taken late in the evening after people had left. Also, there are more officers in the photograph that appear on the roster, so it might not have been a completely closed event. Perhaps past and/or future officers were in attendance?

Noticeably absent are the Stewards: Apostol, Ellis, Henderson, Johnson, Parker, Parks, the Smiths (Isiah and Lasal), and Stone.

If you recognize someone in the photograph that hasn’t yet been identified, please get in touch. Likewise if you happen to have a copy of the photograph that’s in better condition, as the creases in this one make it somewhat difficult to identify a few people.

Vintage promotional postcard for the Hotel St. George

Program and group photograph courtesy of Linda Oakley Letendre.

Ensign John Gay

When I began to write this post, I thought there was no one in John Gay’s family with whom I would be able to get in touch. That was because for the longest time, I had believed his name had a middle initial—G. I’m not sure where I had come up with the initial because Gay’s name does not appear on any of the muster rolls or deck logs that I had at the time I added him to my spreadsheet. I only discovered that he was an officer aboard the Zircon after receiving a bunch of photographs from the son of Arthur Fleming Drant (F2c), who’d served on the Zircon from the day it was commissioned on 25 March 1941 until 23 February 1942. Gay’s name was written on the back of a few of the photographs.

John G. Gay, Lieutenant Charles Frederick Havemeyer

I think that the G came from a news clipping I’d found in a Pennsylvania newspaper which announced on its society page that a John G. Gay had been accepted by the Naval Academy in Annapolis. It was the only such news item I had found for John Gay at that time. Simply put, I conflated one John Gay with the other because… the Naval Academy. With few exceptions, very little information about a ship’s officers is available via muster rolls, so it wasn’t until I obtained a tranche of deck logs that I found his name listed as the Zircon’s Communications Officer.

28 February 1942 deck log’s List of Officers

This process of trying to locate over four hundred Zircon families requires a little persistence. Failure is almost the norm. When I feel I’ve gone as far as I can go with someone, I move on to the next person on the spreadsheet. Eventually, I work my way back around to those that I had reached dead ends with earlier (I can’t count how many times I’ve been through the spreadsheet).

Gay (left) with Ensign Julius Peter Wilkowski*

I can only hope that in repeating the process, sources such as or GenealogyBank,com might have “new” information for me. Also, as more and more people create family trees at Ancestry, additional and (often) more reliable information becomes available, and in some cases, there are photographs, as I recently discovered while looking for Sylvester Craven, who was a Chief Commissary Steward in 1941 and 1942.

With Gay, however, I was stymied… for a long time. A week or so ago, though, I came across a Draft Registration card of one John G. Gay, who was an immigrant from Czechoslovakia, and I thought I’d at last hit paydirt. I wondered, though, if an immigrant would have so quickly risen through the ranks to Ensign, especially as there was virtually zero military documentation besides the Draft Registration card. As I looked into his family history, I found no survivors. He had one son who’d died young, and another who died but had no children. I started writing, however, thinking that he was the guy, despite my gut feelings.

Wilkowski (knee), Ensign Ed Thorne, Ensign William Dommerich, and Gay behind Lieutenant Commander Cornelius Martin Sullivan

But then, I discovered a Findagrave memorial for John Gay—with no initial—that had an obituary included in the description. Everything in the obituary seemed to line up with the guy I was looking for. There was no middle initial on the memorial, but that’s pretty common as people create pages based only on what’s on the gravestone, and sometimes, gravestones don’t include initials. And then, I found a duplicate memorial that had identical birth and death information, no obituary, but with links to other family members. I got a little giddy thinking that my mystery had been solved.

Using the birth and death dates, I was able to find a tree at Ancestry which included an image of his obituary, which I probably would have found had I not been searching for John G. Gay. With the information about his surviving family members, I was able to find an email address that worked for his daughter Phyllis, and she confirmed I’d found the right John Gay. But, she informed me, “(h)e was always known to us children as John Gay, there wasn’t a G for a middle name.”

Gay (left) again with Wilkowski

A case in point regarding new information becoming available throughout the course of this project, I’m 99.999999% certain that when I began to look for Gay in Ancestry’s military documents a few years ago, I didn’t come across his Draft Registration card. Discovering it now, I see that he registered in New York, which I believe only recently made these documents available.

Gay’s Draft Registration card

The obituary I found at Ancestry (and then was published in the Boston Globe, and it differs from what I found on Findagrave in that it’s pretty bare bones. The latter was published in the Southampton Press (which I obtained thanks to a librarian at the Rogers Memorial Library in Southampton) and provided a brief but good sketch of Gay’s life:

The Boston Globe version indicated that he’d died after a long illness, but did not mention that he’d been hit by a car.

Boston Globe, 18 July 1996

Gay was born in Boston 10 April 1915 to William Otis Gay and Annie Margaretta Dumaresq, and as noted in the obituary, he had six siblings: Sophie Margaretta, William Otis, Dorothea Ellen, Philip Dumaresq, Anne, and Colette.

His family is delineated in Colonial Families of the United States, which was published before Colette was born in 1921.

Colonial Families of the United States

Getting back to his service… he was Communications Officer on the Zircon from 30 August 1941 until sometime in 1942 (since I don’t yet have all the ship’s deck logs, I currently don’t know his detachment date), after which he was promoted to Lieutenant (j.g.) and assigned Commanding Officer of the Sub Chaser, CS-682, at the Submarine Chaser Training Center (SCTC) in Miami, Florida.

The above Report of Changes from 31 December 1942 seems to indicate that the SC-682 was commissioned on 9 January 1942, but I found no muster rolls from before the December date.

Later that year, he reported on the destroyer USS Sturtevant (DE-239) as its Executive Officer, and served for about seven months. Interestingly, the History of the Sturtevant gives him a middle initial… G.

History of the USS Sturtevant (DE-239)

Phyllis said that her father never spoke of his time in the Navy, that “he was badly affected by the war” and likely suffered from PTSD. But… once the family got a television, “he was crazy about watching Victory at Sea.

Post-war, Gay went back to working on Wall Street, an occupation which appears to have run in the family, as both his father and oldest brother worked in world of banking and finance.

*Wilkowski would later legally change his name to Peter J. Wills.

Harold Victor Horn

I’ve been a little remiss in getting this post together as Harold died two years ago today. I actually began writing it shortly after he died, but I knew that Teddy Bertone would feel heartsick to read about the death of yet another of his shipmates—he was already feeling blue at the time knowing that there were so few still alive. So I held off and held off and held off, thinking that the first anniversary of his death would be a good time to post. But then, the day before that anniversary, Teddy died. It was a bit much.

Because of Harold’s failing health in the last couple of years, I never got to talk to him, although I’d exchanged numerous texts with one of his daughters, Fawn, and spoke once with his wife, Jean. Fawn told me that she had begun to record conversations with him about his naval service, and because my dad said so little about his time in the Navy, I encouraged her to keep at it.

Side-by-side diptych of photographs of Harold Horn, taken in 1944 and 2018.
Harold Victor Horn, circa October 1944 and 2018

One interesting thing about Harold is that while he was born in Milltown, Delaware, he grew up in Wilmington, a little over three miles from where the Zircon was built—as a yacht for Frederick J. Fisher by Pusey & Jones—when Harold was three years old.

Harold’s Draft Registration Card

He enlisted just prior to turning 18, on 10 May 1944, the day before the YF-415 disaster, and coincidentally, sixteen years to the day before Fawn was born. In 1950, he married Jean, and they raised their four daughters—Fawn, Nancy, Kimberly, and Gail—not far from his childhood home.

After I contacted Fawn, and she and Nancy joined the Zircon Facebook group, and they shared how Harold treasured his time in the Navy, but particularly his time aboard the Zircon. The walls of their home are adorned with photos of the Zircon and a framed calligraphic version of the Zircon’s history. His love and pride of service was in such stark contrast to my dad’s tight-lipped attitude about his Navy days. Which is not to say that he neither loved nor was proud of his time in the Navy—I just wouldn’t have known one way or the other. (As I’ve mentioned previously, besides my parents’ wedding photos in which he wore his Navy Blues, there were very few reminders in the house of Dad’s Navy service.)

A Seaman, Second Class (S2c), Harold, was received aboard the Zircon on 1 August 1944 and was transferred to the PC-1087 on 25 January 1945, the same day my dad was transferred to the YMS-75. While it’s highly improbable, I like to think that they walked down the gang plank one last time together.

Diptych of two pages of the Report of Changes from the USS Zircon, noting Harold's arrival on the Zircon and his departure
USS Zircon (PY-16) Reports of Changes from 30 August 1944 and 30 January 1945
Group photos of Zircon sailors, likely all Seaman, taken circa fall of 1944. Harold Horn is in the back row, second from left.
Harold is in the back row, second from left.
Photograph of three sailors taken in a photo studio. Likely taken sometime in 1945 while Harold Horn was serving on the PC-1087. The two other sailors are unknown.
Harold (bottom right), likely with PC-1087 shipmates
History of the USS Zircon, Calligraphy by Deborah C. Adams

One of the texts I’d received from Fawn included a link to an interview she did just a few months before Harold died with retired Army veteran and author Paul Holbert, who regularly writes and video-blogs about veterans affairs. The first eight minutes of the interview is mostly pleasantries, with the discussion about Harold and his service essentially beginning at the 8:20 mark.

Paul Holbert interviews Fawn Victorie Horn Freeman about her father, Harold Victor Horn.

Of all the people I’ve spoken with since beginning this project, Teddy and Harold both seemed to have had a special affection for the USS Zircon.

Here’s a little more about Harold, taken from his obituary:

[Harold] apprenticed with T.T. Weldin & Sons in sheet metal and advanced his skills in the service. When he was discharged from the Navy, Harold finished his training and became a master sheet metal mechanic and contractor. In 1973 he opened Pencader Contractors, specializing in customized fabrication with his nephew, Harry A. Horn. Harold was a “Chevy” guy, loved NASCAR racing, and was a dedicated fan of Dale Earnhardt. In 2004, at the age of 78, he had the opportunity to drive around the Monster Mile track at Dover Downs.

Navy portrait of Harold Victor Horn
Harold Victor Horn

Isidore “Teddy” Bertone

This post is long overdue, but today seems to be a good day to get ‘er done.

A year ago today, Isidore “Teddy” Bertone died at the age of 96.

Diptych of a third or more of the Zircon's crew probably post-baseball game at Riddell's Bay, Bermuda, 1 October 1944, with a detail crop of Teddy Bertone.
Riddell’s Bay, Bermuda, 1 October 1944

It’s probably not an understatement to say that this blog wouldn’t exist without my having known Teddy. His desire to set the record straight about the events that unfolded on 11 May 1944, when the Zircon came to the aid of the exploding, burning, and sinking YF-415, is what really got the ball rolling for me to finding out more about the USS Zircon (PY-16) and every man that set foot on the ship during its five-year commission as a United States Navy vessel.

Group photo of the Zircon's mechanics taken likely late summer of 1944.
Teddy with his fellow mechanics, squatting… second from right

I’ve told this story before, but I guess it’s worth telling again that I never in my life had heard the name Teddy Bertone before 11 May 2014, the 70th anniversary date of the YF-415 disaster. On that day, I thought maybe somewhere—likely the Boston area—a newspaper would have run some kind of historical piece about what happened that tragic day. I had no luck in finding anything in newspapers, but I did manage to come across a newsletter, The Lookout (Winter 2013), published by North Atlantic Dive Expeditions, which had discovered the wreckage of the YF-415 at the bottom of the ocean on 3 November 2002. (NADE’s profile of the wreck is here.)

Photo of Teddy Bertone and Frank DeRupo sitting on the side of the Zircon, possibly in Argentia, Newfoundland, Canada.
Teddy and Frank DeRupo, possibly near Argentia, Newfoundland

In the newsletter, the author, Heather Knowles, mentions having spoken with two of the Zircon sailors, Teddy Bertone and Anthony Susinno, about the incident as they were aboard the Zircon that day, and they had mentioned (gulp!) my dad’s name. I contacted Heather to let her know of my connection and she got me in touch with Teddy’s daughter Lisa, but because I’m a weird blend of introvert/extrovert, that connection sort of stagnated for almost three years. Finally, I arranged to talk with Teddy in the spring of 2017, and scheduled a visit with him in the fall when I was scheduled to be on the East Coast for work.

Photo of Paul Beach, Teddy Bertone, Mario Saponaro, and William Barnett, posing with liquor bottles at a fake bar in a photo studio likely in Coney Island, New York.
Paul Beach, Teddy, Mario Saponaro, William Barnett, likely at Coney Island

Teddy lived with his daughter Nicole in Staten Island, so I arranged with my client to have my flight home depart from Newark, New Jersey, and when my work wrapped up, I took the train from Boston to see him. When we met, we were accompanied by a video team, whom Lisa had contacted. They were interested in doing a short documentary piece about the disaster and this sailors’-reunion-by-proxy.

Teddy Bertone and Otto Boerner in a small boat on a rocky shore in Bermuda
Teddy and Otto Boerner in Bermuda

Teddy and I and Lisa sat at the kitchen table, with photos sprawled in front of us, and at some point, Teddy proudly showed me his dress blues which he’d kept all those years. He was as proud of his service as anyone I’ve ever known, but according to Lisa, it had only been relatively recently that he’d begun to talk about it. It became important to him that the YF-415 story be told accurately. In a way, his wish became my command and I began using every possible resource to track down other living Zircon sailors, in the hope that I’d find someone else who was aboard that fateful day in 1944.

Photo of Otto Boerner, Teddy Bertone and George Humphrey walking on  Queen Street in Hamilton, Bermuda. (Circa 1944)
Otto Boerner, Teddy, George Humphrey on Queen Street, Hamilton, Bermuda

One of my favourite moments in that first meeting with Teddy occurred when I was showing him my parents’ wedding photographs via my tablet. Dad’s best man was one of his shipmates—a man whose name I never knew as a kid because I never bothered to ask what it was. (Or maybe I asked my mom and she couldn’t recall.) Anyway, as I swiped through the photos, I came to one in which Dad appeared with his best man.

“Chick!” exclaimed Teddy.

Photo of the author's father (right) with his best man, John "Chick" Gigarjian, taken at Church of the Blessed Sacrament in Staten Island, New York, 20 January 1945.
John “Chick” Gigarjian and my dad

He was so excited. Which got me excited. He then pulled out a photograph from the wedding of another Zircon sailor, Frank DeRupo, to show me that John “Chick” Gigarjian was also Frank’s best man.

Frank DeRupo Wedding Party… Teddy is second from left.

When I got home from New York, I immediately began searching for other living Zircon sailors who were on the ship that day, and eventually located two. one of whom, Richard Hamilton Garrison, I later hooked up with Teddy for a reunion by phone. I also set up a Facebook group, and as I found more families of Zircon sailors, I invited them to the group. Teddy loved being able to commune with the children and grandchildren of many of the men he served with on the Zircon, regularly contributing comments and photos. He was the lifeblood of the group.

Photo of the author and Teddy Bertone, 16 October 2017 in Teddy's home in Staten Island, New York.
Me and Teddy

I regret that I didn’t talk with Teddy as often as I would have liked. I occasionally sent off emails to Nicole asking various questions about his quotidian life aboard the ship, or if questions specific to the YF-415 incident popped into my head. I had arranged to talk with him on—as it turned out—the day after he died.

I’m getting a little emotional as I write this because I never would have imagined getting to know one of my dad’s World War II shipmates, much less becoming friends with one, and wanting to share with him every little nugget of information I found out about the Zircon or one of the four hundred or so men that came and went during its five-year commission as a naval vessel.

As I mentioned, he was as proud as anyone I’ve known to have served in the U.S. Navy and on the Zircon, his only seaward assignment during the war. And after waiting eighty-years, this Italian immigrant from the town of Castiglione in Sicily was proud, too, to finally become a United States citizen.

Image of the front of Isidore "Teddy " Bertone's Draft Registration Card.
Teddy’s Draft Registration Card

There are many. many questions I never got around to asking Teddy, but a couple occurred to me as I was writing this. The first is, where did the name “Teddy” come from? I asked Lisa and Nicole, who asked Teddy’s brother, Vincent, and no one seems to be quite sure. It possibly had to do with someone having trouble saying Isidore. A Teddy Bear might somehow have been involved as well (What?!?). I wonder if someone mistook “Isidore” for “Theodore” at some point, Teddy being a common nickname for Theodore in those days.

The second was: how did he feel about being at war with his native country Italy? His best friends aboard the ship (Tony Susinno, Frank DeRupo, Mario Saponaro, all of whom were born in New York)—whether by chance or by choice—happened also to be Italian. And, of course, his naval duty was essentially related to the German presence in the Atlantic, but he had to have been torn.

Photo of Isidore "Teddy" Bertone, taken by the author on 16 October 2017 in his home in Staten Island, New York.
Isidore “Teddy” Bertone, 16 October 2017, Staten Island, New York

Teddy, we hardly knew ye.

The Pilot Boat New York, Part II

The path to discoveries often take unexpected turns.

Recently, I did another newspaper archive search for articles about the Zircon’s life after World War II. Specifically, I was looking for somethinganything about the ship after John W. Mecom, Sr. purchased it from the Sandy Hook Pilots Association. It had served for about twenty years in New York Harbor by that time, and was about forty-three years old.

I couldn’t find anything substantive, although in my previous post I wrote about possibly having found it’s post-New York name. (Heavy emphasis on possibly.) I then searched again for anything about the ship when it was still the New York. Of course, trying to search for a ship with that name can be futile—to say the least—when there’s a city and a state by that name and probably thousands of businesses with it in their names.

I did an eBay search for Sandy Hook Pilots Association with the thought that maybe, just maybe someone have a press photograph of the ship for sale. I got lucky a couple of years ago when I purchased a copy of a press photo of the ship taken when it was undergoing the conversion from Navy vessel to pilot boat. So, you never know!

I found nothing on eBay, but somewhere, somehow along the way, I found a reference to the book, Always On Station: The Story of the Sandy Hook Ship Pilots, by Francis J. Duffy After looking to see if Duffy might still be alive (he isn’t), I found that he was associated with the Steamship Historical Society of America (SHSA), whom I contacted to see if perhaps the group happened to have a photo of the New York in its collection. Sure enough it does.

Aimee Bachari, SHSA’s Education Director, let me know that she had two negatives of the ship on hand, but no means in-house by which to scan the them. As a matter of wanting to know exactly what she had (I expected 35mm negatives), I asked her if she wouldn’t mind holding a negative up to a diffused light source and taking a photo of it with her mobile. I half-expected that she’d tell me to take a hike, but a day or two later, I got an email with this photo attached. A big, beautiful 4″ x 5″ negative! And well-exposed to boot!

I took the image into Photoshop, inverted from a negative image to a positive, corrected the perspective a little bit, converted it to black and white, and cropped it to get rid of most of Aimee’s hand. I cropped it again to little more than the ship.

In this form, it’s not great, but it is nonetheless gold.

Yesterday, I contacted a photo lab about a mile from where SHSA’s offices are to see how much it would cost for scans of the negatives (surprisingly not much) and then emailed Aimee to offer to pay for them. I’m even willing to pay additional as a donation. I’ve yet to hear back.

I then set about to determine where the photograph had been taken by opening up Google Maps and scanning the Manhattan and Brooklyn shorelines in 3D mode to see if I could recognize the buildings. They look pretty distinct to me, so I was hopeful. But then, the photograph was taken 29 May 1951, and there’s the possibility that the buildings were no longer there.

I contacted a friend of mine back in Michigan who grew up in New York to see if she might recognize the buildings. As luck would have it, she has an 85-year-old uncle who worked on the New York City waterfront during the 1950s. She sent him the photo and he immediately recognized the Whitehall Building, which is just above the boat in the middle of the 1951 photo.

Via Google Earth, this is the area where the ship was photographed. The Whitehall Building appears to have been having some work done on its façade when the image was recorded as there is black fabric covering the south side of the building.

The waterfront area has change quite a bit as almost all of the docks have been replaced by landfill.

Grand Mutter

After what seems like an eternity of not paying much attention to the Zircon, its crew, its history, and therefore this blog, something recently lit a little bit of a fire underneath me to try to find out what happened to the ship after it was sold to John W. Mecom, Sr. in 1973. So, I did a newspaper search hoping that additions to its collections of newspapers, I’d come across an article about the ship running aground in Corpus Christi in 1988.

I didn’t find anything about that incident, but I discovered an obituary in the 31 August 1986 Galveston Daily News for Bill Curry, whom Mecom had employed as the captain of his yacht.

While Curry died a couple of years before the incident in Corpus Christi, I hope that I might be able to find out from his children (I’ve attempted to contact only one as of yet, with no luck) if they know anything about the ship or have photographs or… something.

I also found this article in the 27 August 1989 Victoria Advocate which, while not about the ship per se, very possibly mentions the name that Mecom gave to to the Nakhoda/Zircon/New York after he purchased it—Grand Mutter.

I haven’t been able to find any other news stories which mention the Grand Mutter, but I’ve sent an email to Mecom’s grandson to see if at least he can confirm that that’s indeed the name that was given to it.

Just as I was about to publish this, I noticed that the latter article above mentions John W. Mecom, Jr. not John W. Mecom, Sr. Possibly it’s a typo or possibly I’m following a dead-end trail.

Edit to add (11 March 2023): After giving this considerable thought, I believe that the Grand Mutter is not the Zircon, but the yacht owned by younger Mecom.

Frank Paul Bielskis

Because I haven’t updated this site in some time, I thought I would start posting individually about some of the men who served aboard the USS Zircon (PY-16).

When I began my search for the Zircon sailors (and/or their families), I created an Excel spreadsheet of all the names that appeared on muster rolls I’d obtained via One of the first things I did was to determine which of the sailors were on board the day of the YF-415 disaster (11 May 1944), as looking for witnesses to that event was a priority of mine at the time. So, taking the March (quarterly) 1944 Muster Roll and then adding and subtracting the sailors whose names appeared on the subsequent Reports of Changes, I was able to determine that there were a hundred and twenty enlisted men aboard the ship on 11 May 1944. Once I acquired the ship’s deck logs for 1944, I found that there were eight officers.

Once the spreadsheet was completed, I began searching for information about each sailor in alphabetical order, and amongst the first handful on the list was Frank Paul Bielskis. Unlike many (probably most) of the people I’ve searched for, I found a fair number of newspaper articles which mentioned Bielskis’ name. Sadly, they all were news articles about the boarding house fire in Brockton, Massachusetts in which he died.

Page 1 of the 30 April 1966 edition of the Boston Traveler

Bielskis had been married, with two children, but he appears to have been either separated or divorced from his wife at the time the fire occurred. For a time, he and his wife, Frances (“Fannie”) had lived with his parents, Casimir (Charles) and Eva, in Brockton. He worked as an automobile mechanic.

His wife apparently did not marry again, or so her obituary suggests. Bielskis was not mentioned.

His children have not responded to my postcards, letters, and phone calls, so either they were too young to know much about him when he died, or their relationships with him were such that they have no interest in speaking about him.

The below photo of him (at top right) is the only one I have of him in which he has been identified. I received it from Thomas Shubert, whose father is at the very top of the photo.

Top: Thomas Charles Shubert, Jr; Middle: Elster Johannessen Tufte, William Albert Greffin, Ned Landis Lamprecht, Frank Paul Bielskis; Bottom: William Richard Salomons, Jr., Paul Magera, Buford Aubry Griggs (Photo courtesy of Thomas Shubert)

I am generally pretty outgoing, but calling strangers out of the blue remains somewhat uncomfortable for me, especially since we live in the age of scam. TA few months ago, however, I gathered up enough moxy to call Theresa Loef, sister of Frank Paul Bielskis. I sent her a postcard in November of 2020 but hadn’t heard from her, so I thought a call was in order.

I’m glad that I called. We had a perfectly lovely conversation, and she wasn’t the least bit concerned that I was trying to defraud her in any way (she didn’t seem to be anyway).

Theresa is almost twenty years younger than her brother, so she barely knew him. She was unaware of the YF-415 disaster, but she did recall the fire in which he was killed, and told me that Bielskis originally roomed on the ground floor of the hotel, but another boarder had physical issues which made it difficult to get to the third floor, so Bielskis traded rooms with him, thus saving his life and sealing Bielskis’ fate. Of course, this could be a myth. This could be the story that her parents told her, as I don’t know how such a thing could be known unless there were interviews of the survivors that made it to print. Myth or not, it is what she holds onto as a proud memory of her brother.

Not long after speaking with Theresa, I sent her a copy of the photo.

In Memoriam: Richard Hamilton Garrison

RIchard Hamilton Garrison

In May 2014, I had no idea what a simple web search would wrought. As explained in the pinned post (and again in my post from last month), I was curious to see if any newspapers ran articles about the USS YF-415 disaster, and the subsequent rescue of about half of its crew by my dad’s ship, the USS Zircon (PY-16). Because of life (read: mostly work) and my hesitancy to make cold calls to people I don’t know, I didn’t get in contact with Isadore “Teddy” Bertone for almost two years after I’d read about him on the Northern Atlantic Dive Expeditions (NADE) website. My biggest regret in this process so far is that I didn’t contact Tony Susinno when I had the chance. Tony was Teddy’s lifelong friend and fellow Zircon sailor with whom Heather Knowles at NADE also had spoken about the YF-415 disaster.

It wasn’t until after I met Teddy in October of 2017, that it occurred to me that more Zircon sailors who were aboard the ship on 11 May 1944 might be alive. So I went through the ship’s muster rolls I’d downloaded from and identified the approximately one hundred enlisted men and officers, and I began searching various newspaper archives sites,,, etc. to see if I could find living Zircon sailors.

The first one for whom I couldn’t locate an obituary, either in archived newspapers, public records, or more recent newspapers via Google searches, was Richard Hamilton Garrison, who when he left the Zircon had the rating of Storekeeper, Third Class (SK3c). Not wanting to repeat my previous mistake of failing to speak with a Zircon sailor when I had the chance, I found Richard’s phone number online and gave him a call early in February of 2018. I announced who I was and explained why I was calling, and he lit up. He recounted his experience on the Zircon that day in 1944. While he couldn’t recall what he was doing at the time the Zircon came upon the YF-415, nor the names of the three men who had gone out searching for YF-415 survivors (my father, Paul Magera, Henry John O’Toole), he described the gruesome details of body parts in the water and the smell of burning flesh.

He also talked of being a musician, and how when he enlisted, he’d hoped to play in a Navy band. That wouldn’t come to pass. He told me of his wife, who had died of cancer, and that he also had cancer. It was clear in his voice that he missed his wife, but his own sickness didn’t seem to affect his attitude. At 92, he was sharp and cogent. He told me his son lived in the San Francisco area, and that his daughter had been a nurse in Oregon or Washington… that she looked after him. I later found he had another daughter.

We spoke for probably forty-five minutes, and towards the end, the names one of his fellow sailors came to mind… Joseph Henry Hoser, Jr., who also worked in the ship’s store. At the end of the call, Richard told me that he was really pleased that I’d called and suggested that if ever I were in the San Diego area to get in touch so that we could meet. I told him I would do just that, and as it happened, a client contacted me the next day or so to confirm photographing his association’s annual meeting in Los Angeles in the coming week. I called Richard and told him that I’d be in Los Angeles in just a few days, and that I could rent a car to make the two-hour drive to see him. He seemed excited at the prospect. I certainly was.

A day or two later, however, he called and left a message on my voicemail. It was rather somber in nature, and he said that he had to cancel my visit; that it was “weird,” but would I please call him back. When I did, he told me that a neighbour of his, a local sheriff, had come by to check in on him, as he regularly did, to see how he was doing. He asked him if anything was new, and Richard told him about me, my phone call, and my plans to visit him. The neighbour told him not to see me, that I was probably a con artist attempting to scam him. Richard told me that he didn’t give the guy my name, address or phone number. I told him that if he had, he would have been able to find me all over the internet. You know… because I’m not a con artist. Richard then told me that he would treat this all as if it had never happened. We said our good-byes.

In the months that followed, more Zircon photographs came into my possession, and I sent copies of a number of them to Richard, hoping that 1. I could convince him I was on the up and up; and 2. see if he could recall names of unidentified sailors in the photos. I also sent copies of news articles and the NADE newsletter. He didn’t respond. I sent a letter to his daughter who cared for him. She didn’t respond.

At some point, I shared Richard’s phone number with Teddy Bertone so that the two former ship mates could talk. Teddy has been my driving force in this project, and as he has opened up about it in the last few years with his family, he has also come to miss those with whom he served. Teddy is as proud a person that has ever worn a military uniform, and he continues to hold dear those days he was in the Navy. I knew how important it would be for him to talk with Richard, so I helped to make it happen. Neither knew each other way back then (or recalled having known each other), but Teddy had remembered that Richard played a trumpet on board and that he had blonde hair.

I’m a little more than half-convinced that the sailor on the right is Richard at RIddell’s Bay

A month or so later, I asked Teddy’s daughter how it went and she said it had gone great. I asked, too, if I came up in the conversation, hoping that Teddy had vouched for me and my integrity. She said that he had. So, I made another call to Richard, shortly after sending him an enlargement of the group photo which graces the top of this blog. I was really hoping he could identify himself in the photo and perhaps others. But he was curt with me when I asked about the photo, and then he hung up. I was really hopeful that I could have gotten him on video talking about the day of the YF-415 disaster, as well as about his everyday life aboard the ship. But since it was clear that he no longer wanted to talk to me, I decided not to press him and stopped communicating with him altogether, with the exception of a postcard for his birthday. As the 75th anniversary of the disaster approached, I sent a note to a San Diego area television station hoping that someone would interview him about the incident. I never heard from anyone. I suspect that no one contacted him. I shared his phone number with Boston-area writer-historian Jim Rose, who interviewed him for his article on the 75th anniversary of the disaster.

A couple of months ago, since I had stopped trying to contact Richard, and since I couldn’t have expected his family to get in touch with me, I did a web search, essentially look for—and hoping I wouldn’t find—an obituary for him. Alas, I did. I felt a bit crestfallen. He had died about ten months earlier. I began writing this up with the intention of posting it today, the first anniversary of his death.

I sent notes of condolence to two of his children, neither of which has responded, and I let Teddy’s daughters know. While I suppose I understand Richard’s kids’ unwillingness to contact me, I also sort of can’t. Selfishly, I’m sad that I wasn’t able to develop my relationship with Richard beyond that first phone call. I really would have loved to sit face to face with him and have a discussion about his time on the Zircon, and his life before and after the war… something I never did with my own father.


Six years ago today, I did a web search to see if any news articles had been posted anywhere about the 70th anniversary of the USS YF-415 disaster and the subsequent rescue by the crew of the USS Zircon (PY-16). (I think I typed in “USS Zircon” + “YF-415” + “John Power” for my query.) I thought that since the incident occurred near Boston, perhaps the Globe or other local papers might have something. I found no news articles.

As I have mentioned before, my dad never really talked about the events of 11 May 1944, despite that it probably was his defining moment as a sailor during the war. Until six years ago, I knew little more than the two ships’ names and the date and place the disaster occurred.

What I discovered was a link to the North Atlantic Dive Expeditions‘ (NADE) newsletter, The Lookout, in which my dad’s name (albeit misspelled as Powers) was mentioned by Teddy Bertone, another Zircon sailor, who had come across NADE’s website which originally discussed the discovery of the YF-415 on the ocean floor by Bob Foster in 2003. Teddy wanted to provide a first-hand account of that day.

I immediately contacted NADE’s Heather Knowles and David Caldwell to let them know of my connection, and asked for a better copy of one of the group photos that included my dad, one I’d never seen before. I also asked to get in touch with Teddy, and Heather provided his daughter Lisa’s contact information. I emailed his daughter the next day, but because I was suffering from a major back problem at the time, limiting my computer time, our communications stalled a bit. Also, because I am a weird blend of introvert/extrovert, I didn’t immediately follow up with contacting another sailor who was on the ship that day, Tony Susinno, and by the time I did get around to contacting Teddy directly, Tony had died.

In October of 2017, I met Teddy while I was out east for work, and it was at that time that it occurred to me that there might be other Zircon sailors out there who were on board that day in 1944. So, I went about downloading all the Zircon’s muster rolls via (an Ancestry site for military records) and creating a spreadsheet of all the sailors who’d served on the ship, and then narrowing it down to those who were aboard on that specific day.

Using and, Google, and Ancestry, and other sources, I began tracking sailors’ names (via wedding announcements, obituaries, news items, etc.) to see who might still be around and able/willing to talk about the incident. I found only two, Richard Hamilton Garrison and Clarence Livingstone. When I called Richard, he told me how glad he was to hear from me, and he recalled that day quite vividly. Clarence, on the other hand, didn’t recall even being on the Zircon, much less the YF-415 disaster. (He later served in the Pacific Theater, where he lost numerous friends, and he told me “I’m not right” after that experience.) His godson told me that he didn’t like talking about his time in the Navy.

A lot of the details are somewhat muddy with me now, but at some point in the process, I also gathered what few photos I have of my dad in uniform and added them to my brother’s Ancestry account. One of those photos, which included my dad’s best man, John Gigarjian, was discovered at Ancestry by his daughter Jill (if memory serves), and she contacted my brother to ask about it.

It then occurred to me that many of the families of the sailors I was looking for might have accounts on Facebook, so, in November of 2017, I created a group, and while my original intent was to find only about a hundred sailors, I expanded my search to include all 450 or so sailors that served aboard the ship during its five-year commission. It hadn’t occurred to me at the time that there might be many photos of the ship and crew available. But as more people joined the group, more and more photos were uncovered, my favourite being the one that adorns the header of this blog.

While my work on this project has slowed for various reasons over the course of the last several months, I continue to try to locate the families of sailors who served on the Zircon. I regularly refer to my spreadsheet and if someone I’ve sent a card or email to hasn’t responded, I try again. In lieu of getting results in that manner, I can only hope that those who, like me, are researching their fathers’ naval history, type their fathers’ names into a search engine along with “USS Zircon” and their searches lead them here.

So, in order to perhaps increase the odds of that happening, here is the complete list of enlisted sailors and officers I’ve been able to establish as having served on the Zircon at one point or another during its five-year commission as a Navy ship. There are one or two whose names might not belong on the list; many served in a capacity which I’ve yet to understand, and who therefore might not have actually served on the ship, but their names are on muster rolls, so I’ve included them. Those whose families I’ve located are in bold.

If your father’s or grandfather’s name is on the list (or if you are in some way related to a sailor on the list), and the name is not in bold, please contact me via the form on this site.

Ignacio Acack
Hartwig Achenbach
Arthur Merrill Adams
Edgar Calvin Alverson
Louis Augusto Alves
Gilbert Atwood Anderson
Kenneth Alvin Anderson
Ellis William Anderson
Charles John Andres
Samuel James Andrews
Ralph Patrick Annunziata
Fausto Plaganas Apostol
Emery Joseph Arsenault
Edward Richard Ausfeldt
Edward F Babish
James Harold Bacha
Fred Gilbert Baker
Joseph Francis Baldassare
Elmer Edward (Edison?) Banner
Alvin Edward Barber
William Eugene Barnett
Stanley Baron
Charles Robert Barton
John Wesley Bassett, Jr.
Raymond John Battistelli
Paul Buford Beach
Napoleon Beamon
Charles Clifton Beaury
John Shissler? Beck
Harold Beck
Richard Roy Beckwith
Robert Anthony Begandy
Frederick Joseph Beloin
Allen/Allan? Terhune Benjamin
John Stuart Bennethum
Jesse Gilbert Bennett, Jr.
Joseph Cornelius Benson, Jr.
Sidney Berkowitz
Frank Walter Bernard
Frank Whittelsey Berrien
Isidore Teddy Bertone
John Leonard Betts
Frank Paul Bielskis
John Erwin Bills
Douglas Cato Bird
Marvin Gordon Black
William Alfred Blair
Harry Reno Blankenship
Charles Andrew Blocher
Richard Harold Blust
Warren (also William in error) Albert Boebert
Otto Martin Boerner
Robert Mervin Bogart
Samual/Samuel Booker
John Paul Boyd
Daniel Frederick Brach
Thomas Brader
James McKnight Bradford, Jr.
Redding A Braxton, Jr.
William Armond Brehm, Jr.
Earle Robinson Brown
George Brownlee, Jr.
James Rudolph Burton
Raymond Butler
Berton Johnson Byers
James Alfred Campbell
Raymond Francis Carpenter
Wallace Richard Carper
Page Herman Carter
Thomas Joseph Casa
Raphael Cervera, Jr.
John Chencharik
Sanford Lee Childers
Robert George Clark
William Brougham Clark
James Cleveland
Harold Eugene Clift
Howard Cochrane
Richard Kendall Cockey
William John Collins
Salvatore Joseph Collusi
Francis Michael Conlon
Garrett Joseph Connolly
James Loren Cook, Jr.
Chester Guy Cooke, Jr.
Burl J Cooley
Carl Robert Cooper
Donald Gilbert Countryman
Aaron Cousin
Olin Roy Cousino
Edward Lee Crain
Sylvester Craven
Dalton Burtum Creaser
James Joseph Creevay
Edward Anthony Cronauer, Jr.
Herman Harold Crouser
Robert Preston? Peter? Crowder
Henry Robert Crum
Charles LaVern Damon
Clarence Weed Davis
Charles Brant Deer
Arthur R DeFields
Meir Hershtenkorn Degani
Frank Nicholas DeRupo
Ernest Leonel Descheneaux
Parker R Despain
Max Earl Dey
Albert Joseph DiPastina
Charles A(ddison) Dodge
A W Doherty
William Louis Dommerich
Charles James Dorrian
Richard Frederic Douglas
Arthur Fleming Drant, Jr.
Robert Milton Drew
Thomas Stephen Dunstan
Michael Duzmati
Jack Joseph Edwards
John Robert Edwards
Edward William Edwards
Arlo Eugene Ellis
William Elmer Ellis
Donald Charles Elmore
Andrew Jackson Ely, Jr.
Albert Craft Emmett, Jr.
Spencer Joseph Emery Ettman
Harry Wesley Eumont, Jr.
Burton Sandiford Evans
George Joseph Fager
Pete Richard Federoff
Lester M Ferguson
Thomas Frank Fiorini
Martin Joseph Fotusky
Victor John Fox
Steven Knowlton Fox, Jr.
Richard Llewellyn Francis
William Joseph Franey
Frank Stevall Frazier
Robert Lee Frederick
Emanuel Friedman
Michael Joseph Gaglio
Amadeo Galli, Jr.
Julius Emanuel Garber
James L Garnes
Richard Hamilton Garrison
Ira Elmer Garver, Jr.
John G Gay
Benjamin Johnson Gibbs
John Gigarjian
William Francis Gilligan
John David Gillis
Thomas Edward Gilmore
John Thomas Gleeson
John Richard Glenn
Philip Sheldon Godfrey
Walter Edward Gray
William Arthur Green
William Albert Greffin
Clifford Thomas Grein
Buford Aubry Griggs
Henry George Grossman
Nicholas Gulich
Harry Roland Gustafson
Anthony George Gutsch
George Seaman Hallman
Floyd Philip Hallstrom
Francis Charles Hanggi
Richard Stanton Harbster
George Emery Harmon
Louis Monroe Harper, Jr.
Bernard Lee Harvey
Alfred Maxwell Haseltine
James Adelbert Hauser
Charles Frederick Havemeyer
Earthy Lee Hawkins, Jr.
Eugene Hayden
John J Hayes
Harold Berton Hendershot
Odis Henderson
Robert John Hendricks
Percy Eugene Henneman
Howard E Henry
Rolla Harold Hoffmeister
Robert Richard Holmquist
Stephen G(arret?) Holster
Albert Edward Homewood, Jr.
Harold Victor Horn
George Thomas Horrigan
Joseph Henry Hoser, Jr.
Kenneth Melvin Howarth
John Joseph Howes
Edward Davis Howland
Joseph Ovila Huard
Walter Hudgins
Bernard Joseph Hughes
George Waldo Humphrey
Daniel Frederick Hurley
Sumner Kinney Hushing
Harold Wayne Hushour
Rinaldo Biagio Iannettone
Nealon Lewis Johnson
Homer Dowell Johnson
Lonnie Johnson
Daniel Johnson
Gordon Ronald Johnson
Joseph Johnson, Jr.
Burris Beaty Jones
Charles Jordan
Julian Paul Kaczynski
George Richard Kaufmann
James William Keating, Jr.
Randall Manuel Keator, Jr.
Francis Woods Keefe
George Donald Kelly
Herbert Fairfax Kendall III
George Vincent Killoran
William Leroy Kirchhoff
Gordon Denslow Kissam
Alvin Leanda Knox
Alexander Joseph Kotarba
Henry Francis Kroupa
George Albert Krueger
Paul Francis Kruyer
Martin John Kuck
Bernard Richard Kuprewicz
George La Roy
Arthur Donot LaBrecque
Clifford Everett Lamplough
Ned Landis Lamprecht
John Joseph Lane
Edward Lawrence Larsen
Auther Claud Lawler
Charles A(ubrey) Lea
James Francis Ledwith
Louis/Lewis E Lee
Paul Lenchuk
Abraham Levy
Kenneth Jenners Libby
Clarence Livingstone
John William Lomas
Harold Reynolds Love
George Love
Alexander Lulic
Stephen Lupco
William Frederick Luthmann
Francis James Lynch
John Bistis Lyon
James Stoughton MacBride
Francis Lawrence MacDonald
Donald M Mackie
Charles Wight MacQuoid
Michael William Magenheimer
Paul Magera
Angelo Maiorano
Harold Wallace Manner
Olden Manning
Thurlow Winsfield Manzie
Albert Frederick Manzke
James Marvin Marcus
George Ernest Marra
Bruce Harold Martin
Donald Edward McAllister
Francis Homer McCoy
Francis McDiarmid
Ulysses McFadden
Gilbert McGhee
John McGhie
James Francis McGovern, Jr
William H McInnis
James Stanley McKee
John Charles McNicol
Richard Elmo McPhail
Richard Edward Mercer
Theodore Charles Metzing
Irwin Earle Meyer
Henry John Meyer, Jr.
Louis Ludwig Milano
Carl Lester Miller
Dwight Robert Miller
John Mirgo, Jr.
Earle M Mitchell
Wilson Broaddus Moberly
James Eli Monte
Charles Waymon Moody
Doris Clinton Mooney
John Earl Morgan
Charles Milne Morris
Joseph John Muller
Ben Ashenhurst Muse
Tolbert William Nash, Jr.
Edgar Vernon Neer
Frank White Nesbitt
William Mortimer Newman
Orla Ezra Nichols, Jr.
Stanley Thomas Niciejewski (Stanley Thomas Nichols)
Alfred Lester Nickles
Henry John Niemczyk
Anthony Nigro
Joseph Francis Nolan
Edwin Lathrope Oakley
Robert Davidson O’Brien
Edward Daniel O’Connell
Eugene Martin O’Connell
William Henry Oesterle
James Thomas O’Hagan
Erhard Linus Olson
Thomas Augustine O’Neil
Theodore Louis Ormsby
Eugene Patrick O’Shea
Henry John O’Toole
Julio Sabila Pacalioga
Michael Angelo Paladino
Will P Parker
Walter Leo Parks
Tilford E Patterson
John Herbert Peach
Richard Burton Peacock
Russell Ralph Peck
Nicholas Pegan
William Ganeric Petrushonis
Ardrey Vernon Peyton
John Louie Pineault, Jr.
Meredith Pippens
William Edward Pitt
James William Plant, Jr.
Rebo Pope
William Bibbins Post
Milton Powell
John Bell Power
Thomas Francis Powers
Mark Foster Preston
Lawrence Augustus Pyle, Jr.
Edward Walter Ranski
William Luke Reedy
Louis Rene Richards
James Michael Riley
Braulio Riqueza
William James Robb
James Walter Robertson
William Gaston Robinson
William Rogers
John Francis Ronkovitz
Max Wilburn Rood
Arthur Tracy Row, Jr.
Irwin Rubin
Angel Louis Ruiz
Tommie Rush, Jr.
Eugene Vapor Sagaral
Joseph Lawrence Sakmar
William Richard Salomons, Jr.
Mario Pat Saponaro
Servillano Sayaman
Charles Owen Schauss
Peter Anthony Schmanski
Henry Raymond Schneider
Robert Forest Segar
James Joseph Senft
Albert Severino
William Sexton
George Preston Seybolt
William Patrick Shea, Jr.
Francis Lynde Sherwood
Thomas Charles Shubert, Jr.
Jules George Sills
Michael Joseph Silvasie
Solomon Silverman
Stanley David Simon
Edward Simon
Joseph Edward Sims
James Howard Singleton
George W Sizemore
Quay Henderson Smith
Isiah Smith
Lasal Smith
Theodore Soltys
Carl Gottlob Sommer
John Leon Sorota
Christopher Sottile
Joseph Emerson Spence, Jr.
Floyd Everett Spencer
Henry Eller Staley
Robert James Stanslow
Albert Thomas Stephens
William Dixon Stevens
Ray N? Stewart
Harrison Stone
Carl Stone
Richard Harry Stortz
Iliff Ira Strahan
James Ralph Strain
Frank Joseph Strakosch
Francis Joseph Suchowiecki
Earl Eugene Sullivan
Cornelius Martin Sullivan
Anthony Charles Susinno
Ernest Herbert Swaggart
Andrew Mertens Swarthout
Charles Julian Symington, Jr.
Herman Joseph Taroli
Ernest Rudolph Tashea
Edwin Garth Taylor
George Eugene Tessier
Leonard Francis Therrien
Henry Francis Thomas
Willie Melvin Thompson
Kenneth Edward Thompson
Roy M Thompson
Edwin Thorne
P J Tiffany
James Edward Tiner
Joseph Michael Torres
Richard Prescott True
Frank Truhn, Jr.
Stornes Tucker, Jr.
Elster Johannessen Tufte
Ernest William Turnbull
William Walter Turney
Louis George Uljon
Draper Jack Underwood
Benjamin Vencheski
Anthony Joseph Viviano
Joseph Benedict Volente
Oscar Truman Walker
James Eugene Walker
Franklin Leroy Walter
Robie Leslie Waugh
Stanley Jerome Wazbinski
Ralph Leland Weber
John Dickson Webster
Louis Mario Weinman
Richard Lewis Weis
Leroy Matthew Weiss
George James Welsh
James Taylor Wenman
Carl J Westbrook
Daniel Wheeler
Wellesley Plant Wheeler
Harrison Gates White
David Quentin White
William E Whitney
Julius Peter Wilkowski
Leroy Allen Williams
Edelbert Eugene Williams
John Franklin Wilson, Jr.
Arthur Thomas Wincek
Lester Burton Wood
Lloyd Elmer Woodworth
Marvin Glenn Wright
Lowell Eugene Wright
Carl Young
Ira LaFlorrid Zeek, Jr.
Vincent Joseph Zemalkowski