CLASS
OF
Catalina High School, Tucson, Arizona, USA
Mike Nagle's Memorial Day Tribute to His Father, Patrick Nagle, Killed in WWII.
Patrick Nagle
Navy Pilot
Mike Nagle
CHS 1959
Memorial Day Tribute
Michael Nagle
This year, more than many in the past, we need to remember the real meaning of Memorial Day. A special day to pause and give thanks to those who gave their lives in order that we may continue to live ours, in a FREE society. A free society that is continually being challenged and must be defended.
My Story:
The rally cry adopted after the 9/11 Al-Qaeda attack on the World Trade Center, has a much earlier and deeper meaning for me- August 1942, when my father, a Navy pilot on the USS Enterprise, was lost at sea during the Marine invasion of the pacific
island of Guadalcanal during the first months of World War II.
I was a toddler living with my mom in a rental apartment in La Mesa when the almost daily love letters from my dad to my mom stopped one day with the delivery of a telegram informing her that he would not be coming home. My mom was 22, my dad was 25.
My dad, Patrick (Pat) joined the Navy after graduation from high school in Illinois. He was looking for adventure and did not want to be a farmer like his father and grandfather. Flying an airplane was the biggest adventure the Navy had to offer. Pat completed flight training at NAS Pensacola, Florida (where my daughter and
granddaughters now live) and was awarded his Wings and commissioned an Ensign in the U.S. Navy.
My dad was a proud Irishman. HIs grandfather, also named Patrick, had emigrated from Ireland as a boy during the Irish Potato Famine in the 1840’s. He gained his US citizenship by joining the Army and fighting in the Civil War (I still have his discharge papers dated 1865).
After flight training my dad was assigned to the Naval Air Station Coronado in San Diego. There he met my mom Nellie, at a dance in Santee. (My aunt told me that Pat loved to dance and was popular with the girls in high school in Illinois). My mom, who
was one of seven siblings, was just 18 when they met. Pat courted Nellie under the watchful eye of her father who was suspicious of sailors and didn’t have much use for Irish Catholics. Eventually they married and I came along.
Following the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor, the “Day of Infamy” on December 7, 1941, my dad was deployed to the Pacific with his squadron on the USS Enterprise. He had one brief visit with his wife in San Diego before joining the Big E to fight the war
against the Japanese.
When my mom received that final telegram in August 1942, she was pregnant. My sister, Patricia (named after our father Patrick), was born a few months later.
My vaguest early childhood memories were not of playing baseball or fishing with my dad, they were of my mom crying- a lot.
I still have the love letters from my dad to my mom, including the “good-bye letter” that he gave his buddy to deliver to her in the event he did not make it back. In that final letter, my dad expressed his undying love for God, my mom, and his country.
My dad was a devout Catholic and received communion before each mission. His remains were never recovered, but his memory and the stories about who he was will always be with me. We owe these heroes everything.
We must
NEVER FORGET!
The last letter written by Mike's dad to his mom, below. (Click to enlarge)
