REMEMBRANCE OF WAR

My father, Mario Arthur Comizzoli, the only child of Italian immigrants, was born in New York City on May 27, 1910. He was a high school graduate and worked as a salesman in the restaurant industry, From April to July of 1942 he served as ordinary seaman (O.S.) aboard S.S. Thomas P. Beal with homeport of Boston, In October 1942 he began service as O.S. in the deck section of the S.S. Louise Lykes, a munitions transport. The ship carried munitions for the North Africa invasion to Casablanca. On January 2, 1943 he sailed again aboard the Louise Lykes from Port Newark, NJ bound for Belfast. The ship sailed without escort or convoy. I believe escort vessels were not available because all available Navy ships were deployed along the lengthy route that President Roosevelt took in a Pan American Clipper to the Casablanca meeting with Prime Minister Churchill and General deGaulle. I have read in histories of the Battle of the Atlantic that no convoys crossed the North Atlantic in January 1943.

Adolph Hitler insisted that all sinkings be reported immediately to headquarters; therefore a very sparse account (now in the National Archives) of the engagement was recorded. The submarine was damaged in the engagement, and the Louise Lykes was struck by one torpedo. All 50 merchant crew, 24 Naval Armed Guard, and 10 Army anti-aircraft gunners were lost.

After the War, my father’s cousin, who also served in the Merchant Marine, told me that he and my father went to see the Louise Lykes in Newark while it was being loaded. He said that the cargo consisted of “huge” aerial bombs and that he attempted to dissuade my father from making that trip. My mother told me that my father was brave and that he liked to do daring things - that he once swam across the Hudson River near the George Washington Bridge. When people hear my father’s story, they sometimes ask how the Nation finds such brave people. I reply that they are always here, but in good times we are not so aware of them.

I was two years old when my father was lost and have no memory of him. I wrote the following poem to make some images for myself from that time, and images also from more recent conflicts. This poem is dedicated to the memory of Mario Comizzoli and is for all who have lost a parent in war.