As I watch all the pageantry happening at Buckingham Palace in advance of the 75th anniversary of D-Day, I decided to check out what my father and his family were doing on that historic day—taking care to not spoil my story for anyone who may someday read my book.
While Allied forces prepared to storm the beaches of Normandy, several members of his family were dead, two of his siblings were working in a factory southeast of Moscow awaiting funds to return home, at least one was still in Kuibyshev fighting for survival, and several others were in parts unknown. Dad was still on U.S. soil at Camp Ritchie (Daddy Went to Spy School!), diligently writing letters to the American Red Cross and the State Department in an unrelenting mission to bring his family home.
Within a short time, Dad would be boarding a medical ship, the Jarret M. Huddleston, on the way to England. It was a busy and nerve-wracking time.