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Albert Krisunas Christy

Mercer, PA

U.S. Army. Vietnam

Albert Christy was part of a unique military family. His father, Ambrose Christy, served the U.S. Army in World War I in France, where he was a victim of a mustard gas attack. His four brothers all served in the military, too.

What makes the family unique, however, is that each of them served in a different branch: Freddy in the Navy, Paul in the Coast Guard, Donald in the Army Air Force, Charlie in the Marine Corps, and Albert in the Army.

Perhaps the strength and determination of all of them came from a very hard childhood. Their mother died in childbirth in 1940, leaving Ambrose with eight children. Two of them, Albert and Paul, lived for a couple of years in St. Joseph’s Orphanage in Erie before they started school.

Albert dropped out of Mercer High School in his Junior year and joined the Army in 1955. After serving in Korea, he was assigned to Germany from March 1962 to April 1965. In September, 1964, he married Inge Gerlach. Through the Army education program, he achieved his high school diploma.

Upon leaving Germany, he was stationed at Fort Ord, California. From there, in spite of his family’s pleas, he volunteered for Vietnam. On February 6, 1966, he was assigned to the 25th Infantry Division in Darloc Province. A little more than a month later, while on a combat mission, Sgt. Albert Christy was killed by a sniper.

He left behind his wife, Inge, and their daughter, Diana, and two step-sons from Inge’s previous marriage. He is buried in San Francisco’s Golden Gate National Cemetery. His family was living in Seaside, California, while he was in Vietnam.

SSgt. Christy’s decorations include the Combat Infantryman Badge, the Purple Heart, the National Defense Service Medal, the Vietnam Service Medal, the Vietnam Campaign Medal, and the Vietnam Cross of Gallantry with Palm Unit Citation.

On the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Panel 6E Line 17

Allen Neil Palm

Palm, Allen Neil

Greenville, PA

U.S. Army – Vietnam

Allen Neil Palm was a Greenville native, 1968 graduate of Reynolds High School, who ended up tromping through the marshes of the Mekong Delta with the 9th Infantry Division in the Mobile Riverine Force.

“Letters from the front were rare and are now long lost,” wrote his sister, Carol, “but I remember that his complaints were few – only that his feet were suffering from the march through swamps.”

Friends and family would not have expected many complaints. They were used to his unassuming attitude and willingness to sacrifice for the sake of others.

“He and his brother Wes both wrestled at Reynolds,” Carol said. “One of them had to quit to help Dad on the farm. Allen quit so Wes could continue to wrestle. That’s what kind of a kid he was.”

After graduating from high school, Allen attended the New Castle School of Trades and worked as a material cutter in the Westinghouse in Sharon. When he was called into military service in October, 1968, Allen made no big fuss.

“We would never know what he thought about going half a world away to fight in the jungle,” Carol said. “It was simply his duty. He had already seen friends and neighbors ship out, so he prepared as best he could to leave his family and home to serve his country.”

Details of that service are difficult to find, but as a soldier in the 9th Division, we know that he served in the Mekong Delta. According to accounts by other soldiers, one of the most common tactics was to cruise up and down the countless waterways on the Navy’s modified ships until they were shot at. The ship would return fire, then drop off the infantry to assault and destroy the enemy. Sometimes they would be out for days on end, plenty of time to get their feet very wet.

Ninth Division troops would also be inserted into known enemy territory by helicopter and retrieved the same way when their mission was accomplished.

On December 5, 1968, Allen was killed by enemy booby trap while he was on patrol. He was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star and the Purple Heart.

On the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Panel W37 Line 47

Allison Angott

Angott, Allison

Allison Angott

Hermitage, PA

U.S. Air Force, Desert Storm Era

In providing for its own needs, the United States military services play vital roles in fulfilling the needs of society at large. The Shenango Valley has a family practitioner because the United States Air Force enabled Dr. Allison Angott to get her medical degree.

“Without the Air Force,” she said, “I would have had to be a specialist to pay off the debts of medical school. I say to my patients I’m your tax dollars at work. I’m here as a physician because you helped me go to medical school. And I appreciate that.”

When she needed financial aid to attend medical school, she discovered the Air Force’s medical training program. Through it, she was able to earn her degree at the University of Pittsburgh, and complete her residency in Erie.

She got her introduction to military life during month-long tours of duty each summer.

“We were sworn in as officers, wore a uniform, went to officers training and learned how to march, salute, and so forth. Each year I was at a different military hospital. I did a rotation in cardiology in Dayton, in pediatrics in San Francisco, survival training in Texas.”

When she went on active duty, she was assigned to Maxwell Air Force Base in Montgomery, Alabama.

“A week or two after I came on duty, Kuwait was invaded. I went on standby to be deployed as an orthopedic surgeon. That’s the only thing that made me uncomfortable during my tour. The Air Force uses their family doctors to fill in specialist slots because we have a broad range of training.”

Dr. Angott was never deployed, but her base in Montgomery expanded to receive casualties. The doctors and staff there were also trained in disaster/mass casualty exercises.

Part of Dr. Angott’s patients came from Montgomery’s large retired military population, which provided her with experience in all aspects of family practice.

Her four years of active duty provided her with more than a degree and medical experience.

“I am more appreciative of those who have gone before me and those who have given their lives for our country. I thank every serviceman I meet, and I honor the flag. I know the Constitution and a little bit more about what it means to be a citizen. I certainly didn’t pay enough attention when I took those classes in high school.”

Dr. Angott and her husband Richard have three daughters – Bethany, Leah, and Moriah.

Andy Hamilton

Hamilton, Andy

Hermitage, PA

U.S. Army Reserves – Iraq

Many military police security units do their best to keep people out of military installations and operational areas. Andy Hamilton’s 307th Military Police Company did that for a while on a humanitarian in El Salvador.

“We guarded engineers while they built hospitals and schools throughout the country,” he said.

But in Iraq, at Camp Bucca, he spent his time hardening the prison to make it less escapable.

Originally from a place near Barkeyville, PA, Andy joined the army in 2005 at age 18, fresh out of Franklin Area High School.

“I felt like I wanted to serve my country,” he said. “All my life I did heavy equipment operating, construction work, and farming. I decided I wanted a break from the monotony, so I joined the Military Police. And I thought it might set me up for a good career after I got out.”

After training in Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, Andy was assigned to the 307th Military Police Company, 320th MP Battalion in New Kensington, PA.

“We spent a lot of time doing desert training in Fort Irwin, California,” he said. “It was actually a lot of fun.”

Of course, the fun had a purpose, which was to prepare the company for deployment in Iraq. That happened in 2008, right after Andy got married.

Camp Bucca was named after Ronald Bucca, who had been an MP with the 800th Military Police Brigade, and was the New York City fire marshall who died in the 9-11 attack on the World Trade Center. Camp Bucca was developed into a model detention facility, with prisoners housed in cinder block buildings rather than tents. It even had a U.S. Army hospital to care for the detainees.

The work may have been hard, under the constant awareness that the enemy might fire a rocket into the compound at any time. But Andy’s tour in Iraq wasn’t all bad. His best memories are of the companionship among the American soldiers there.

“All of us there had a strong bond,” Andy said. “We were as close as family.

And, of course, there were the leisure time activities, such as volleyball and bocce.

“All that desert made a good volleyball court,” Andy said.

Ann (Deluchie) Jarocki

Farrell, PA

U.S. Army – World War II

A humanitarian at heart, Ann (Deluchie) Jarocki went into nursing after graduating from Farrell High School in 1936. After completing her training, she joined the Red Cross “because they would send nurses to flood areas and hurricanes and tornadoes and I always wanted adventures.”

In 1941, she jumped at the chance to join the army, despite strong objections from her family. Lt. Deluchie served as a nurse in military hospitals in Ft. Lee, VA, and Ft. Benning, GA. When the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, she was among the first to volunteer for overseas service.

On March 1, she and her fellow nurses boarded a 17 ship convoy in New York without knowing where they was headed. When they arrived at the Panama Canal, they knew they were going to the Pacific. Six weeks later they were setting up hospitals on the northeastern coast of Australia.

The American army was fighting the enemy who occupied most of New Guinea, less than 100 miles to the north. Casualties were flown in to the hospitals in Australia. Then, as U.S. forces advanced, Lt. Deluchie volunteered for transfer to a hospital on New Guinea. Although the enemy was being pushed back, they still had the capability of conducting air raids – sometimes even at night when the moon was full.

“The moon was so bright that when we were on night duty we would sit outside the tent and make our notes out there. I never saw such a beautiful moon in all my life.”

But because it was so brilliant, it made targets easily visible for air raids, so they called it the Bombers’ Moon.

After two and a half years in Australia and New Guinea, Lt. Deluchie was discharged from the army. Return from the war brought an end to her military service, but it didn’t diminish her commitment to humanitarian service. She became involved in the Mercer County Association of the Retarded (MCAR), serving as its first president, as well as a member of many committees.

She also volunteered continually wherever she was needed. She did blood pressure screenings at various locations in the Shenango Valley; was a ‘Polio Volunteer’ in 1954 with Dr. Jonas Salk, administering vaccinations and medications to control polio; was a school aide at Monsignor Geno Monti Elementary School, Farrell; and was a camp nurse for many years at summer camps for the mentally challenged.

Anthony DeGerolamo

DeGerolamo, Anthony

Wheatland, PA

U.S. Army, Vietnam

The Tet offensive launched by the North Vietnamese army and the Viet Cong late in January, 1968, cost the United States military more casualties than any comparable in the Vietnam war. One of those was PFC Anthony DeGerolamo from Wheatland, PA.

PFC DeGerolamo was assigned to Headquarters Company, 5th Battalion, 60th Infantry, 9th Infantry Division. As a medic, he would have been attached to the battalion’s line companies during combat operations. They were indeed outstanding fighting units. On February 1st, 1968, Companies B and C charged from their Mekong Delta base in armored personnel carriers to counterattack the enemy forces who had seized parts of Saigon. According to the Presidential Unit Citation awarded them, “With complete disregard for their personal welfare, the men of Company B and C began a vicious assault against the enemy stronghold. Demonstrating indomitable courage and superior firepower, they crushed the determined foe.”

Four days later, PFC DeGerolamo reportedly volunteered for a night patrol with Company C. In an ambush, two Company C soldiers, Sgt. Robert Torres of Philadelphia and Cpl Wayne L. Golon of Bergenfield, New Jersey, were killed in action. PFC DeGerolamo was first listed as missing in action, but was later reported as killed. The incident took place two days after PFC DeGerolamo’s 24th birthday.

The son of Mr. and Mrs. Anthony DeGerolamo, Anthony had been an outstanding football player and an honor student in Farrell High School. His football coach, William Gargano, described him for the Sharon Herald as “a quiet boy you didn’t know was around unless he hit you on the football field.”

Gargano said DeGerolamo was one of the better linebackers ever to play for Farrell. “He wasn’t a big boy, but he was very quick and agile. He was a very fine football player and a real gentleman.”

He was drafted while he was near completion of his courses in pre-med at Youngstown State University. He arrived in Vietnam on January 5, 1968, exactly a month before he was killed.

On the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Panel 37E Line 34

Audie Murphy

Hunt County, Texas

U.S. Army – World War II

A man wrote songs during the 1960s that were recorded by Dean Martin, Jerry Wallace, Porter Waggoner, Jimmy Dean, Teresa Brewer, Roy Clark, Eddie Arnold, the Johnny Mann Singers, Dick Contino, Harry Nilsson, and many others. Nevertheless, he is virtually unknown as a songwriter.

He is known instead as the man who fought his way to hell and back, and who revisited the journey as an actor in a movie version of his autobiograhy. His name was Audie Murphy.

The most decorated American soldier during World War II, he was awarded 33 medals including the Medal of Honor, the Distinguished Service Cross, two Silver Stars, two Bronze Stars for valor, and three Purple Hearts, as well as medals from France and Belgium

His Medal of Honor citation gives a hint of his literally incredible courage:

2d Lt. Murphy commanded Company B, which was attacked by 6 tanks and waves of infantry. 2d Lt. Murphy ordered his men to withdraw to prepared positions in a woods, while he remained forward at his command post and continued to give fire directions to the artillery by telephone. Behind him, to his right, 1 of our tank destroyers received a direct hit and began to burn. Its crew withdrew to the woods. 2d Lt. Murphy continued to direct artillery fire which killed large numbers of the advancing enemy infantry. With the enemy tanks abreast of his position, 2d Lt. Murphy climbed on the burning tank destroyer, which was in danger of blowing up at any moment, and employed its .50 caliber machinegun against the enemy. He was alone and exposed to German fire from 3 sides, but his deadly fire killed dozens of Germans and caused their infantry attack to waver. The enemy tanks, losing infantry support, began to fall back. For an hour the Germans tried every available weapon to eliminate 2d Lt. Murphy, but he continued to hold his position and wiped out a squad which was trying to creep up unnoticed on his right flank. Germans reached as close as 10 yards, only to be mowed down by his fire. He received a leg wound, but ignored it and continued the single-handed fight until his ammunition was exhausted. He then made his way to his company, refused medical attention, and organized the company in a counterattack which forced the Germans to withdraw. His directing of artillery fire wiped out many of the enemy; he killed or wounded about 50. 2d Lt. Murphy’s indomitable courage and his refusal to give an inch of ground saved his company from possible encirclement and destruction, and enabled it to hold the woods which had been the enemy’s objective.

Of course a citation can’t tell the whole story. It doesn’t mention, for example, that he was just 19 years old on January 26, 1945, when he did all those things. Nor does it mention his size: he was 5’5” tall, and probably a bit heaver than the 112 pounds he weighed when he had taken his army a couple of years earlier.

But maybe not much heavier, since he had just returned to his unit from the hospital. After being wounded in on October 26, 1944, he couldn’t be evacuated for three days because of rain and mud. Gangrene developed in his wound. In the hospital, he lost part of his hip muscle while the gangrene was being cut out.

He rejoined his decimated unit on January 14, 1945. By January 26, only 18 men remained from its maximum strength of 235. Murphy, who had received a battlefield commission just three months earlier, was the only officer left. That made him the company commander.

That’s when Germans tanks and infantry attacked what they knew was a very small unit. They couldn’t have known that they would be defeated by one small soldier.

By any odds, Audie Murphy shouldn’t have survived that battle, much less earlier battles in North Africa, Italy, and France, including invasions of Sicily, Anzio, Salerno, and southern France. He did survive the war – but at great cost. For the rest of his life, he suffered severely from “battle fatigue,” known today as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, with the worst that it entails: nightmares, drug addiction, severe and sometimes violent mood swings, etc. He was even arrested on suspicion of assault and attempt to commit murder. Fortunately, he was acquitted of those charges.

In spite of such setbacks, his innate courage enabled him to accomplish many things, including the writing of hit country songs, a movie career that included 44 films, and breeding quarterhorses. Perhaps that courage was never more tested than when he agreed to play himself in the film version of his autobiography, To Hell and Back. Who besides Murphy, after fighting his way to hell and back, would agree to revisit that horrendous journey?

Unfortunately, gambling and bad investments left him in debt by the time he died in a plane crash on May 28, 1971.

He was buried with full military honors in Arlington National Cemetery.

Bill Brandenstein

West Middlesex, PA

US Navy, Vietnam Era

Militarily, the word “heroic” describes people who perform well in the face of enemy fire – sometimes for just a single day, or even a single minute.

But what about members of the armed forces who perform outstanding service for 20 years without ever being in combat? There should be another word to describe them that would garner as much respect as the word “heroic.” But there isn’t.

Consider 21-year navy veteran Bill Brandenstein, who never served in a combat zone. Without service like his, the United States armed forces would never be able to win a battle, much less a war. There wouldn’t be any heroes.

Brandenstein joined the Navy after graduating from high school in 1970. Trained as an electrician in San Diego, he was assigned to Vietnam. But his orders were changed, so he spent the next year and a half in the Philippines preparing, repairing, and servicing ships.

“I got to see a lot of the ships coming back in from Vietnam and heading over to Vietnam. The destroyer Higbee came in there after an enemy round blew the gun turret off all the way back to the aft superstructure down to the water line. The Newport News had a blowback in one of her gun turrets. They were still pulling bodies off of her.”

In June, 1973, Brandenstein returned to San Diego, then went on a WestPac (western Pacific) cruise on the USS Cleveland. In December, 1974, he left the Navy and spent nine months as a civilian.

After rejoining, Brandenstein was trained in fire control – the systems that operate the weapons on board ships. He then went on a WestPac cruise with the USS Prairie, a destroyer tender.

In early 1980, he was again in the Philippines, on a WestPac cruise that was ready to head home. He requested a transfer to a ship that was en route to Iran because of the hostage crisis, but it was disapproved by his Commanding Officer. “He said you need to come home and be with your family – you’ve already served your time.”

Following training at Naval Station Great Lakes on close-in weapons systems, Brandenstein went on another WestPac cruise on the aircraft carrier Coral Sea. He was aboard while it sailed through a hurricane in 1983.

“One of my three systems just happened to be on top of the ship’s island. So we’re looking at eight levels above the main deck. And the flight deck itself is like 60 feet off the water. I’m sitting up there looking out, and I’m watching green water up over top of my system. Not white water, green water.”

Next, Brandenstein was transferred to the training station in San Diego.

“They had no instruction guides to tell people how to check the close-in weapons systems, and they liked the way I did it on the Coral Sea, so they got me orders to come down there and work with them. I built the whole program up for them. As a result I got sailor of the year nomination.”

During 1986 and 1987, he served as a recruiter right here in Sharon, then finished out his career at Naval Station Great Lakes.

“One day the chief detailer showed me a paper with my name on it to go to Desert Storm. He says you aren’t going now because you got your papers through Congress approved to go to the state reserve [that is, retire from active duty]. So three times in my career I was headed into danger areas and each time somebody changed it.”

Brandenstein’s retirement was by no means the end of his service to his country and his fellow veterans. In a sense it was just a beginning. By chance, he happened to be present for the opening ceremonies when the Vietnam Memorial Moving Wall came to Hermitage in 1992.

“I never knew – and still don’t know to this day – who took my place going over to Vietnam, whether or not they ever made it back. Somebody went to Desert Storm instead of me. They could have been in the building that got blown up with the Scuds. So I have a little bit of survivor’s guilt from time to time – it bugs me.”

The experience moved Brandenstein to become active in the Mercer County Vietnam Era Veterans Organization, then in the Veteran’s of Foreign Wars. He was commander of the West Middlesex post from 1995 to 2002. He also served as commander of the Mercer County Council of the VFW. He was instrumental in setting up the Mercer County Veterans Advisory Council and became its first commander.

For the past five years, Bill has been running the Veterans Transport network through the Disabled Veterans Association. The network transports veterans free of charge from Hermitage to the VA hospitals in Butler, Pittsburgh, and Erie.

Bill Roscoe

Roscoe, Bill

Sharpsville, PA

U.S. Army Air Corps – World War II

On April 8, 1945, Bill Roscoe found himself in the kind of situation where people tend to bargain with God. Like, “Lord, get me out of this and I promise to serve you the rest of my life.”

Bill had already made that commitment when he was much younger, so he made a another one: “Get me out of this and I promise you I will never worry again.”

He was radio operator on a B-17 Flying Fortress when his plane was crippled by anti-aircraft. Instead of bailing out, Bill stayed to help his friend get out of the ball turret gunner’s pod.

The inexperienced crew members were bewildered, afraid to jump. So Bill pushed them out. Failing to count to ten before opening their chutes, they were too close to the plane when a burning wing broke off and threatened to take them all out. The last one to jump, Bill managed the nudge the wing enough for the wind to take it away from the others.

With his chute full of holes, he hit the ground hard, injuring his feet. He was captured by the Gestapo, who marched the prisoners hundreds of miles. They had nothing to eat but bread made from sawdust and potatoes. Prisoners and guards suffered together.

They ended up in Stalag Luft 7A, a prisoner of war camp for airmen. Starvation and severe treatment caused Bill’s weight to drop from 185 to 85 before General Patton’s forces liberated them.

“For ten years after he got out of the service,” said his wife Dee, “Bill was very sick. He was yellow from toxic poisoning. The only thing that pulled him through was Dr. K. W. Bertram, and the Lord.”

At his 90th birthday party in 2005, Bill said that he and Dee had never had an argument. Faithful to the second promise he made to the Lord, he said he lived a no-stress life with a no-stress wife.

He and Dee were also faithful to his promise to serve the Lord. They served as Eucharistic ministers for 20 years, and taught religion for more than twice that long.

Fifty years after the end of the war, Bill was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for that incident that lasted a few minutes in 1945. But he and Dee valued far more the satisfaction they earned through a lifetime of worry-free service to the Lord, to each other, to their family, and to their community.

Brandon Wentling

Hermitage, PA

Pennsylvania National Guard – War on Terror Era

“I thought it would be best to serve my country and do something special,” he said. “My dad was in the military for 25 years. My family has served forty or fifty years total. They’ve all served overseas.”

So Sgt. Brandon Wentling joined the Pennsylvania National Guard on July 23, 2003.

Sgt. Wentling sees a lot of benefits in serving in the Guard.

“You can get your schooling with one hundred percent tuition paid,” he said. “You’re not away from your family and you still get to play army.”

For the First Battalion 107th Artillery stationed at the National Guard Armory in Hermitage, “playing army” is serious business. To be prepared for deployment anywhere in the world, they must train constantly to operate some very large guns.

“I’ve trained on the Paladin, the triple seven, and the one-one-niner,” Sgt. Wentling said.

The Paladin is a 155mm self-propelled howitzer mounted on tracks, like a tank. It can zip along at 35 miles per hour, stop and fire accurately within 30 seconds at targets ten miles away, then take off again. It can fire a maximum of six rounds per minute, sustained three rounds per minute. Operating it requires precise teamwork among its crew of six. The M777 howitzer is a similar 155mm weapon, but towed rather than self-propelled. The smaller, lighter M119 105mm howitzer can be transported by helicopter and even air dropped via parachute.

All of these systems depend on sophisticated electronics for accuracy.

“We train one weekend a month, usually Saturday and Sunday, but sometimes Friday, Saturday, and Sunday,” Sgt. Wentling said. “In the summer, we have two weeks of annual training. We must get must get certified before going out to shoot live rounds. Everybody has to work together in order to shoot safely.”

Sgt. Wentling was deployed for one year in Taji Iraq, about 20 miles from Bagdad. He also volunteers his time helping people returning from deployment.

“I help them with their paperwork and such,” he said.

When asked about the greatest benefit of serving in the National Guard, Sgt. Wentling answered without hesitation: “Pride and honor.”

When not serving with the Guard, Sgt. Wentling is a heavy equipment operator with Waste Management.