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T/5 John T. Mc Laughlin was a messenger boy before he enlisted in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania on 29 January 1943.


This is a story story about his death written by his younger sister from her school yearbook, The Garland 1946 from Little Flower Catholic High School in Philadelphia PA USA, send in by his niece Mrs. Anne McEligot.

ETERNAL GLORY

There are hundreds of American boys who played the main character in this tribute-perhaps one was close to you.

By Regina McLaughlin '46

Many miles away across an angry white-capped ocean, and far beyond rich farm lands and plains, there still stands amid the ruins of Germany, a small town whose God-made fields and resources have been laid waste by man-made implements of war. Life in this tiny town still goes on, but its people are unmindful that somewhere beneath the blood-drenched soil there lies a boy who fought to preserve an ideal. So proud was he of this ideal that he willingly forfeited his most cherished possession-life.

In the year 1943, when he was on the threshold of life, Johnny donned the uniform of Uncle Sam's Army. Gone for a time, perhaps, were his dreams of personal accomplishment. Hidden far back in his mind, now, were the opportunities that America as a democracy offered him.

A few months of training helped to make him a perfect example of our nation's finest. There followed long, lonely months in England- months of monotony, months of hard training, months filled with the tension of waiting for that fatal day that was known only to us as D- Day.

So, late in June of 1944, with his division he moved across the English Channel. It was not make-believe warfare now; it suddenly loomed before him as a bitter reality-more real than anything else in his short life.

The tanks of the third armored division rumbled across the French countryside-Isigny, St. Lo, Cerisy LaSalle, and Braisne fell before their heavy guns. Through the cold and snow of a Belgian winter they moved forward to liberate the towns of Leige, Aachen, and Namur. At times, it seemed to the boys that they would never see the end of this fight.

Time kept pace with the fast wheeling tanks until finally Christmas was upon them. Was it on this day that the Christ Child had come so many years ago to teach the world a lesson of love, and peace, and sacrifice? But this Christmas was only another day of fight, fear, fatigue, and loneliness. You see, John spent his Christmas at the Battle of the Bulge.

January came and passed, February the same! When March came, no one noticed the fighting was so fierce. Toward the end of March, his division was nearing the famed Remagen bridge-head. They were coming into a town in Germany called Paderborn. There, they met again real opposition. The townspeople took up arms against them-women and children threw hand grenades from windows; teen-age girls fired bazooka guns. After months of pushing ahead, of beating down resistance, this veteran tank division was forced to retreat, during which time John's tank was hit and his commander wounded. In an effort to remove the commander from the tank, Johnny stood on the turret and reached down to lift him. Instead of rendering assistance, he fell-hit by fire from a hidden enemy gun. He lived only long enough to receive the Last Rites of the Church and to beg God's mercy upon his record of those few short years that had arched his span of life. His reward, I know, is far greater than his fondest dreams. Did Christ Himself not say: "Greater love than this no one has, that one lay down his life for his friend"?

Now, only a purple heart and two oak-leaf clusters remain as a remembrance that on April 2, 1945, a typical American lad gave his life- for you, for me, for democracy. Perhaps it is folly of me to call him a hero, for I have not witnessed his deeds. Yet, what human eye could ever see those things that are visible only to us in our hearts? Mankind at large has not, and will not miss John, they have lost only an unsung hero; I have lost a brother!

The Garland 1946

Little Flower Catholic High School

Philadelphia PA USA