This story is about Harry T. Powers. The T was for Trites. Harry Powers, his wife Audrey and their children lived in a bungalow on the corner of 80th and Grover Ave, right across the street from the ALCA (American Lithuanian Community Association) Club. It was open on Sundays. Harry was my uncle and Audrey my aunt. Harry served in World War II. He was an army Ranger. He served in North Africa and Italy and was wounded twice, once at each place, and had two Purple Hearts for those wounds. He was in England recovering from his second wound (which, if my memory of what I was told by my mother is correct) that he suffered at Monte Cassino while D-Day preparations were made. He received a Bronze Star with a V (for valor) while in combat in Italy. Uncle Harry had recovered from his wounds sufficiently to end up being attached to the 101st Airborne Division for the assault on Fortress Europe. He and his companions were dropped behind enemy lines on the eve of the invasion. They were to secure some bridges and roads to prevent German reinforcements from reaching the beachheads at Omaha and Utah. While drifting down in his parachute, Harry was struck in the jaw by ground fire. The bullet ripped his jaw away, but when he landed in the field with his companions, he had to join the fight, wound or no wound. It was a simple matter of survival They were, as paratroopers are trained to be, surrounded. A medic got to him pretty much right away and sewed up what remained of his jaw, put a surgical mask or big bandages over his wound, gave him some morphine, handed him his rifle and he rejoined the others. They held their position until the invading American army reached them about two days later. Harry Powers received his third Purple Heart for the wound he suffered at Normandy and a Silver Star for his remarkable and heroic service fighting alongside others in his Division as they held their position and fought off German reinforcements. Uncle Harry spent years recovering from his wounds. They were still digging fragments out of him from his Africa and Italy wounds when I was in my 20s. As a young boy of four or so, my mother took me to see him and many other wounded soldiers at Valley Forge Army Hospital. He underwent a lot of reconstructive surgery there. Part of his hip was used to replace his jaw. Even though it wasnt enough to completely rebuild his jaw, the surgeons took too much hip, so he had trouble with it for the rest of his life. He and some of his seriously wounded fellow soldiers would come to our house on Saturday evenings for a spaghetti dinner and smelts from time to time. I remember lots of bandages, crutches, canes, slings, casts amid all their laughter. They seemed very glad to be alive during those times. We kids would be scooted away, but I always managed to get back into the kitchen to be with them. Uncle Harry was, after all, my hero and I wanted to be near him. Harry, like all the Powers sons, was a very handsome man. My uncle Ed Powers (also of the Meadows) is his sole surviving brother. Those who know Ed understand what I mean about the Powers boys being handsome. Steel jawed handsome. But because of his wounds and all the surgery, Harry was left with a very scarred face with a portion of his lips on one side sewn together, creating something of a lopsided appearance. I still thought he was handsome, despite the asymmetry and scars. He was my hero. He was everyones hero. He was from the Meadows. A few years ago I started to do some historical research and ran across one of uncle Harrys direct ancestors, William H. Trites. The Trites family farm was directly across Powers Lane from that of my great grandparents of the same name--Powers. You get the picture -- hanky panky in the hayloft between a Powers boy and a Trites daughter. God bless them. Back to the story, William H. Trites served in Company C of the 29th Regiment of the Pennsylvania Volunteers during the Civil War. He entered as a Private and, because of his valor in battle, was promoted repeatedly -- from Sergeant Major to 1st Lieutenant on January 16, 1862; to Captain on February 23, 1864; and to Major on March 26, 1865. Back then, promotions served the way medals have in more recent times. I sometimes think that Uncle Harry and William Trites were the same soul, part of the army God calls on in times of peril to help put things right. Whether they are or arent, they were both from the Meadows. They both grew up with the same dirt under their fingernails as the rest of us Meadow Rats. They were both very courageous men. They are both part of the heritage belonging to us all who are rooted in the soil of Eastwick. I know there are more stories about remarkable people from the Meadows out there. I know that because the old neighborhood was a very unique place full of very special people. Whether intended or not, this Facebook page is writing the history of the Meadows and its people -- of the place and people that had such a profound effect on each one of us who grew up there. Please add to that history with stories about the special people who touched your life. It is a part of humanitys history that deserves to be told and retold.
Posted on: Sun, 16 Mar 2014 18:16:22 +0000
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