Posted on 03/03/2019 10:27:48 AM PST by Mark
This Valley guy just turned 100, but the Silver Star on his chest never gets old Joe Pietroforte is still going strong all these years. And he still has a sense of service.
It’s pushing midnight and Bazooka Joe is showing no signs of calling it a night.
It’s his 100th birthday party and the World War II veteran is out on the dance floor in his Khaki uniform with his Silver Star pinned on his chest, swing dancing to Steve Waddington & the Retro-Rockin’ All-Stars.
Every red naugahyde upholstered booth and barstool in Barone’s Famous Italian Restaurant in Sherman Oaks is taken by Joe’s friends, and in a minute, owner Tom Monteleone will have his birthday cake carried out onto the dance floor to a chorus of Happy Birthday. Joe Pietroforte.
It’s like John Wayne just walked in the room. Everybody grabs their smart phones to get a picture of Joe cutting the cake because no one’s going to believe them in the morning when they call their friends to tell them what they did last night.
“So let me get this straight. You were at Barone’s partying with a swing dancing, World War II hero named Bazooka Joe on his 100th birthday? Go back to bed and sleep it off.”
And that’s not even half of it. The night before this birthday party last weekend, Joe was out dancing at the Smoke House in Burbank with his steady dance partner Jo Ellen Simon.
Every Tuesday morning at 10:30 a.m., they’re out dancing to Johnny Vana’s Big Band Alumni at Las Hades Restaurant in Northridge. Then Joe goes home, takes a nap, and Jo Ellen picks him up around 7 p.m. to go cut a rug at Joe’s Bar & Grill in Burbank.
So, who is this 5-foot 3 inch, 120 pound superman whose been able to do an end run around Father Time? That Silver Star on his chest goes a long way in telling the story.
Pfc. Joe Pietroforte was getting some much needed shut eye in an abandoned German trench outside Frankfurt in 1945 when two Panzer tanks came rambling over the hill and began raining fire down on the 150 men in Company G.
Rifles and grenades couldn’t stop them. Only one weapon could. And it was in Joe’s hands.
“Bazooka front and center,” the captain yelled. Joe was already there. He knelt in a nearby shell hole, steadied the 13-pound bazooka on his shoulder, and fired an armor-piercing rocket that froze one of the tanks in its tracks. Then he took out the second tank.
Not done yet, he crawled on his belly across an open field with a sniper up in a church tower scanning the area. He had to take the chance because his company had suffered heavy injuries, and he had to find medics and reinforcements fast. Joe did, saving many lives that day.
For his bravery, Pfc Joe Pietroforte was awarded one of this nation’s highest military honors, the Silver Star.
When he got out of the service, Joe moved to the Valley, and went to work as a movie theater manager, opening the Victory Drive-In in North Hollywood in 1949. He married Dorothy, his wife of 57 years (she died 10 years ago), and began a family.
He was a busy man with a lot of responsibility, but he always made time for that Silver Star. He wasn’t about to put it in a drawer or a shadow box on the wall. It carried a responsibility that didn’t end the day he was discharged and became a civilian again.
Joe began volunteering at the Sepulveda VA, and joined both the American Legion and VFW, but his greatest impact was visiting schools and talking to students about that Silver Star on his chest and what it meant.
He wore it to honor the men who didn’t make it home, he told the kids – not to honor himself. And then he gave them a lesson in history no book or movie could ever do justice.
When documentary filmmaker Ken Burns was previewing the first episode of his PBS special, “The War” in 2007 at the Wadsworth Theater on the VA grounds in West L.A., he invited a group of veterans who had fought in the Battle of the Bulge to get their reaction.
It was cold in the theater, and the woman sitting next to Joe – 85-year-old Mary Cobb, an Army nurse who served in war-torn England caring for soldiers wounded in the Battle of the Bulge – was shivering.
Joe took off his coat and put it around her shoulders. Then, he smiled and said something every WWII vet in the theater was thinking.
“I’ve seen this movie before.”
Bazooka Joe hasn’t done an end run around Father Time. The old man holding the sands of time took one look at Joe swing dancing at 100 with that Silver Star on his chest, and stepped aside.
Dennis McCarthy’s column runs on Sunday. He can be reached at dmccarthynews@gmail.com.
Just too good.
His photo is at the link.
Good Story Dennis, tell Patty I said hi, see ya soon
I always like hearing about heroes who came home and lived ordinary anonymous lives where nobody knew they were someone who was extraordinary when it mattered most. Such a fascinating time when the milkman or the guy selling you ice cream or maybe even both might have saved countless lives through extreme acts of valor but neither would talk about it, they just wanted to be ordinary again.
My dad received one, and while his VFW buddies knew, most didn’t and he always said it was no big deal, he just did what needed to be done. He made it to 90, gone four years as of last week. I have his medals now, and hopefully he also lwft me some of what it took to deserve them.
After his father passed, a friend of mine found a commendation letter awarding his father a bronze star. The letter described how his father, who spoke German, persuaded a German soldier to surrender. His father then went unarmed with the surrendered German soldier back behind enemy lines and using his language skills convinced the rest of the platoon to surrender. My friend said his father while he was alive never mentioned the incident, his bronze star or talked much about his service in WW-II.
My college room-mate had five Silver Stars from his one year in Vietnam. Never once did he mention it. It was not until I visited his Mother a couple of years later and saw a picture of him in Marine dress whites that I learned about his incredible valor. He had joined the Marine Corps after graduation. When he graduated from rotary wing school the school commander ordered him to return to his barracks and put “ALL” of his ribbons on. His classmates were stunned. Nicest guy you’d ever meet but a will of steel underneath.
My grandfather was a WWI veteran who was awarded the Silver Star, l never knew about it until my aunt Alice, his youngest sister, told me long after he passed away. I also learned that he didn’t return to the United States until three months after the war ended because he was recovering in a military hospital in the UK.
Your story about his humility reminds me of a fellow I worked with, little guy who was very unassuming. We were talking about some proposal that we were working on and he mentioned something about his time in the service. I pressed him because he was vietnam era age and he did indeed serve in combat there. After a little more pressing he said he was an Army Ranger. Rangers are special forces and in Vietnam they were formed up into Long Range Reconnaissance Patrols, guys who went in small groups armed to the teeth and crawled through the jungle alone to gather intel. It was hard core work alone behind enemy lines for five days at a pop and they were in some really sticky situations often with no hope of relief, kill or be killed sort of thing.
Anyway when he shrugged and said he was a ranger I stopped and said "wait, what? You were a ranger?" and based on his body language I think he was pleased that I recognized what that meant but I never pushed him to talk about his experiences there, which I also think he appreciated. Really good guy.
My dad told me stories about my uncle who served as a bombardier in WW2. Memphis Belle would have you believe that if you flew 25 combat missions you got to go home. Well that may have been true at some level but my uncle flew 33 missions so I guess it wasn't a hard and fast rule. Anyway, there were some harrowing stories about his actual service but one that stood out to me was when he came home but was still in the service. He went to a movie with a girl, some war movie or other, and when he came out of the theater his uniform shirt was all twisted and wrinkled. During the fighting scenes he had grabbed his shirt and was wringing his hands without even knowing it.
He was obviously traumatized but he volunteered and flew again in Korea and Vietnam and is buried in Arlington. He obviously told my dad those old stories at some point over a beer I guess but he never mentioned his service to us. We owe so much to these heroes.
My son is a Ranger. They are known as “the quiet professionals”. Still have respect for the LuRP’s like your friend. RLTW means “Rangers Lead The Way”.
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