By:Eileen Greco
Despite the six decades that have passed, the war still seems as if it happened yesterday for many veterans, and when they gather, their memories are even sharper. Unfortunately, as their numbers dwindle, so do the opportunities to hear first-hand their stories of bravery, heroism and sacrifice.
Malverne residents and World War II veterans Frank Zabatta and Joseph Natoli recalled their wartime experiences last Saturday, the day before the 60th anniversary of D-Day.
Both men remember receiving their written draft notice. Zabatta's nephew woke him, "Telling me the government wanted me," he recalled. Natoli began preparing to enter the military at 19, so that by his 20th birthday -- the official draft age at the time -- he was ready to go. "I almost looked at it as an adventure," Natoli said. Within a month after they receiving their letters, both men were in full uniform in the Army.
Out of the 150,000 Allied forces that landed on the beaches of France on June 6, it is estimated that there were up to 10,000 casualties (6,600 Americans alone) the first day.
"Because of morale, they had most of the [casualties] cleared away right away," said Natoli, speaking of the men with the difficult job of "litter bearer," as they were called by soldiers.
Natoli was on a ship that arrived on the coast of France on June 9. His role, he recalled, was "to give ordnance service to the 1st Infantry Division; we needed to take care of the equipment. We traveled by foot for a few miles, still fighting inland. The Germans still had snipers hiding in hedgerows."
Natoli remembers being in a foxhole with three other men, and one of them asking him, "Why are you shaking?" as bullets from German guns landed behind him.
"Yes, I was afraid," said Natoli.
Zabatta became part of the Office of Strategic Services (the OSS, the forerunner of the CIA), a division of the Army, under the command of General William J. Donovan, which became known as "Donovan's Devils." Zabatta was one of "a group of approximately 140 guys, devised to carry the war behind enemy lines," he said. "We would parachute into enemy territory, blow up bridges, tunnels, stop their supplies."
Zabatta, along with the others in his unit, spoke Italian, making it easier to infiltrate enemy lines during their missions in Italy. Fifteen men in his group were taken as prisoners of war while on a reconnaissance mission and executed, a war crime in violation of the Hague Convention of 1907 and of long-established laws and customs of war. The U.S. Army tried and executed German General Anton Dostler for his role in the executions, in what became a highly publicized case in the U.S., setting the precedent for what became the Nuremberg trials.
Zabatta said his "honeymoon was in the service," as he was shipped off soon after his marriage. His bride, Rose, worked at Grumman (yes, as a riveter), as did many women during the war, to replace the 16 million men called up for duty. Mrs. Zabatta recalls that she couldn't receive letters from her husband because of the covert nature of his duties. "I did receive letters, but they were censored and signed by someone else," she said. "I really didn't know exactly where he was."
Now, after 61 years of marriage, Zabatta, still active in veterans affairs and an organizer of reunions, possesses mementos, letters and photographs of the many friendships he made during the war. "The one time I remember it really got to me was when we were passing by the cathedral, Monte Cassino," he recalled. "As we drove by, I thought I was looking at lumber, but it was American [casualties] stacked up, in what looked like 10 deep, four foot wide." (Monte Cassino was a combat site in Italy where German paratroopers battled the Allied forces in the rubble of the monastery.)
In Natoli's dining room, displayed on the wall, are side-by-side framed photos of his father, who fought in World War I, and himself in full uniform, along with their medals.
Natoli's wife, Ann, says, "It was a different war, a different time. Everyone remembers exactly where they were when they heard of Pearl Harbor. There was a patriotic feel. You almost wanted to go. But we can't forget that war, all war, is really hell."
When asked if they had plans to visit the new World War II Memorial, both men said they would like to. "It's beautiful," said Natoli.
"And long overdue," Zabatta added.
