‘Time to Cry and Remember’

It is Christmas Eve, and Angelo Michael Jenco is 18 again. Although now in the twilight of his life, Jenco returns to the past every Dec. 24, a day forever trapped in 1944, when he was a young soldier.

On that day, Jenco and his buddies--none of them yet tested in combat--packed inside two troop ships bound across the frigid waters of the English Channel to fight the German army in what became known as the Battle of the Bulge.

But 2,236 of Jenco’s comrades from the 66th Infantry Division never got to face the Nazis in the battle that military historians have called the U.S. Army’s finest hour. With the sinking of their ship--the Leopoldville--by a German U-boat, they became casualties in a sea disaster that was secret for nearly half a century.

Jenco, a 72-year-old retired Realtor, has designed his own memorial to honor the men who became wartime casualties that day 54 years ago without ever confronting the enemy: 802 died, including those listed as missing in action; 722 were wounded and another 712 were hospitalized after they were plucked out of the freezing water.

Erected in the garage of his modest Costa Mesa home, Jenco’s memorial consists simply of the names of the 2,236 men who were aboard the Leopoldville that night. The casualty list, which he obtained from recently declassified government documents, is stapled to several pieces of plywood. Part of Jenco’s uniform, complete with battle ribbons, is also on display, as is his Bronze Star citation.

“People talk about a ‘Merry Christmas.’ But I haven’t had a merry Christmas in 54 years,” Jenco said. “I think of my buddies who died that Christmas Eve. That’s what Christmas means to me. It’s a time to cry and remember.”

The Leopoldville, a converted Belgian cruise ship, carried the division’s 262nd and 264th regiments. Jenco, assigned to the 263rd Regiment, was aboard the British ship Cheshire, which was sailing alongside and arrived unscathed at Cherbourg, France.

Jenco remembers the men wishing each other a merry Christmas and singing carols as they boarded the troop ships at the Plymouth, England docks. Friends promised to look each other up later that night, when they were scheduled to arrive in France.

“We were going to be together for Christmas, eat dinner at the mess hall before we were shipped to the front. That’s what our plans were,” said Jenco.

Fifty-four years later, the memories and hurt they generate are as powerful as in 1944, he said. Especially the memory of James “Chick” Falci, a friend since childhood in Buffalo, N.Y.

“What hurts worst is that I can’t call him at Christmas like most friends do,” Jenco said. “I can’t send him a card.”

Obeying orders meant that Jenco could not tell Falci’s parents how their son died or even that he was dead.

Incredibly, little was known about the Leopoldville, which sank within sight of the French coast, until recently. By stamping many documents “secret,” U.S. Army and Pentagon officials succeeded in obscuring details of the disaster.

Pentagon officials familiar with the Leopoldville case could not be reached. But much of the story is told in documents that Falci obtained from the National Archives after they were declassified about five years ago.

An order on Jan. 5, 1945, from Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower’s headquarters directed that no notification to next of kin be made by casualty officers.

However, the records show that there was disagreement among Eisenhower’s staff about whether next-of-kin should be notified and if the sinking should be acknowledged.

A document dated Jan. 6, 1945, shows that Eisenhower’s public-relations officers were urging him to approve the release of information. “It would be advisable from public relations viewpoint that such loss be made public as soon as possible,” said the memo.

Another memo on Jan. 11, 1945, said that War Department officials were also pressuring for release of information of the sinking and noted that “it has been consistent policy to release fact of ship sinking whenever loss of American personnel has been large.”

However, it appeared that Eisenhower had already agreed with an earlier staff recommendation against releasing information. Acknowledging the Leopoldville sinking would give the enemy a morale boost, said another memo. “To admit the extent of such marked success as Leopoldville would be a great encouragement to U-boat fleet,” said the document.

Jenco, who spent more than $500 obtaining the documents from the government, cried as he pored over them.

“The mothers of those listed as missing in action spent all of their remaining years with a glimmer of hope that their sons would return home one day,” he said. “All of us knew they weren’t coming home, but we were ordered not to discuss it.”

With declassification of the documents, however, “the truth is out,” he said. “I want my buddies to get the recognition and honor they deserve. That’s why I put this memorial together.”

Angelo Michael Jenco is inviting the public to visit his memorial today12/24 from noon to 5:55 p.m., the hour that the Leopoldville was torpedoed, at 1933 Meyer Place in Costa Mesa.