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Al Perna is no stranger to death, primarily because it surrounded him on the battlefield. Even though his wartime experience was filled with trauma, loss of life has not gotten any easier for the 84-year-old. Two months ago, he said his final goodbye to Felice, his wife of nearly 59 years.
Suffering a heart attack and massive stroke, Felice collapsed into her husband’s arms while exiting their car one afternoon and was soon admitted to the hospital.
"I didn’t even want to see her go through that," said Perna at his home on the 2600 block of South Juniper Street.
Never regaining consciousness, Felice died at 82.
Perna made note of his empty – and fairly unkempt – house since his loss. But judging by this fighter’s history and persevering tone of voice, he inadvertently notes he will survive these difficult times.
The Philadelphia 76ers recently honored this World War II veteran as a Hometown Hero during the Nov. 11 game against the Los Angeles Lakers. The award recognizes community members for accomplishing amazing feats during their lifetime. The organization’s staff will choose a hero from a pool of nominees or someone they come across in the news. As for Perna, The Spinal Association e-mailed his credentials to the Sixers, who thought it would be a nice gesture to honor him on Veterans Day, said Karen Frascona, the organization’s vice president of communications.
Perna, who received a standing ovation from the crowd that Friday, was shocked to learn right before the ceremony he was the only one being honored.
"It made me swell up inside," he said. "At that particular moment, I was thinking about all of those guys under those white crosses."
The veteran not only received free Sixers tickets, but a plaque that will complement the nine medals awarded for his service with the Ninth Infantry Division.
Perna exudes a confidence and passion for serving his country. He has no problem being labeled a "dogface," a common term describing U.S. infantrymen.
"When we die, we die dirty," he said of infantrymen during World War II. "We were like 78 percent of the casualties of the war."
PERNA VIVIDLY REMEMBERS storming Normandy as a 23-year-old soldier. He was mildly injured twice before the historic attack, but proudly took his place next to other first wavers June 6, 1944.
Boats did not dock near the shore, leaving armored-clad soldiers to lug heavy equipment through the water. Some of them plunged off the boat and into an aquatic grave due to the weight of their gear.
"You’re in a state of shock and you’re fighting for survival," Perna said. "You see guys falling all around you and guys drowning."
Making his way toward land, Perna sought protection behind manmade barriers and inside gullies and craters created by explosive projectiles. He survived the ordeal only to experience a greater one when he crossed the Siegfried Line into Germany.
After traveling over a stone bridge, Germans began a fierce attack.
"A mortar shell destroyed my gun. It knocked me back in my hole. I was covered with dirt from the blast," he said. "When I came to, there were two Germans standing over me. It was almost nighttime. I saw a lot of dead bodies around me."
As blood poured from his nose and ears, Perna remembers being told to "get up" by the Germans.
"The noise was still ringing in my ears," he said. "You’re in complete shock and I was by myself, which made it even worse."
Perna was taken to a bunker, where he received medical aid and an interrogation:
What outfit were you with? Did you suffer a lot of casualties? What kind of weapons did you have in the immediate area?
"I don’t know," Perna remembers responding to each question.
With no knowledge of his comrades or their condition, Perna relocated to a prisoner of war camp in Germany. Life in these camps was nothing to savor, said Perna, who remembers feasting on coffee and brown bread for breakfast and soup he dubbed "red death" in the afternoon.
Perna and the other prisoners sometimes boarded trucks that took them to war-torn sites to gather rubble and bodies of living and dead civilians. He witnessed many people – including children – crying and moaning from wounds.
"It’s something you get mentally hardened to," he said. "You don’t want to see it, but it’s a matter of an individual’s ability to survive."
Yet these excursions, however disturbing, would sometimes provide Perna with sustenance.
"We would almost want to go on these trips because we’d come across a trashcan that had a half-orange in there, or a piece of lettuce or a half-pear," he said. "We’d clean it off as best we could and eat it because it would give us nourishment."
However bleak conditions seemed in the barracks, Perna had hope. He constructed a rosary from a piece of rope, praying up to four times a day.
"The thing I kept thinking about was that my mom and dad didn’t know where [I was]," he said.
Three months after his capture, the soldier braved the wintry elements while crammed into a boxcar full of detainees, many of whom froze to death during the weeklong trip.
Transported to another POW camp, Perna and 20 others were taken to a private residence with an adjacent factory outside of Dresden, Germany. Working in cubicles, the men constructed different parts of houses for civilians who lost their homes during attacks.
To the soldiers’ surprise, the German homeowner – himself a World War I POW – treated them with respect.
"He was treated so well by Americans in Texas, he wanted to reciprocate," Perna said, who revisited the residence
Once the war ended, Perna was moved to a detention facility in France before heading back to the United States. The 140-pound soldier dwindled to 80 pounds during his six months as a POW.
Trying to resume his life, Perna worked for the Campbell Soup Co. until 1968 before becoming a full-time master plumber.
But the realities of war continue to plague Perna as he suffers from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Dreams of his experiences are common.
"It will never ever leave me until the day my eyes close forever," he said.
Though in a support group, Perna has the best support close to home: a loving family of two daughters, Pat, 58, and Debbie, 50, as well as four grandchildren and a great-grandchild.
While his wartime experience was difficult, it has defined Perna as a fighter and the man he is today.
"If I were to do it all over again, I think I wouldn’t hesitate," he said.
