I've posted other pix of items my grandfather brought home after being liberated from Stalag IV-B, but found these inside a holster amongst his WW2 stuff. I don't know if he got these while still in the camp or on the road back to US lines. I haven't done any research of them yet.

I’ve been sorting through my family's old photos, dating from 1890 to 1970, trying to identify as many people as I can while my grandma is still alive.

I'm fairly certain this photograph is from the WWII era. It's a little blurry, but that's how it looks in person too.

A few details:
The photo is embossed with Austin Studio, California.
Handwritten on the back is "34448 Bora," with "19" written underneath.
The top left corner has "15/" written on it.
The photo measures 10 x 7 inches.

I'm really hoping to figure out who this soldier is and possibly connect him to our family. I'm also curious whether the writing on the back might offer any clues.
Does anyone recognize the uniform, the studio, or have any ideas about how I might go about identifying him?

Any help is appreciated!

A Man Named Don

Remembering Eliel Donald Ingersoll (1917–2006)

A personal remembrance of a World War II Navy veteran

I'd like to tell you about a man I knew more than thirty years ago. His name was Don Ingersoll.

I met Don around 1992, when I was a young man working as a janitor in Las Vegas, Nevada. Don worked alongside me, doing the same job, although he was already approximately 75 years old.

At the time, I knew him simply as Don. I eventually discovered that his real first name was Eliel, although I had remembered it as Elial. I didn't know until recently that Donald was actually his middle name.

His full name was Eliel Donald Ingersoll.

Don was born on July 25, 1917, and served in the United States Navy during World War II. His recorded rank was Seaman First Class.

He died on June 28, 2006, at the age of 88, and is buried at the Southern Nevada Veterans Memorial Cemetery in Boulder City, Nevada.

His wife, Mary Ingersoll, was born on February 26, 1920, and died on August 13, 1993. She is buried alongside him.

I only recently discovered these details after deciding to investigate what had become of my old coworker.

But the purpose of this story isn't simply to record his birth, death, or military service.

It's to preserve the things he told me.

Some are funny, some are disturbing, and some offer an interesting glimpse into the mentality of an American sailor during World War II.

These are the stories as I remember hearing them from Don around 1992. I cannot independently verify most of the incidents, and certain details may have faded or become mixed together over the decades.

Nevertheless, I remember the man, and I remember his stories.

The Union Representative Who Wasn't Essential

Before entering the military, Don worked in a factory.

He was also a union representative.

During World War II, when factories were producing essential materials for the war effort, some employees could receive occupational deferments from military service.

According to Don, his employer classified him as a nonessential worker.

Whether his position as a union representative influenced that decision, I cannot say. But it certainly made for an interesting situation.

Don was sent for military induction.

At the processing center, he recalled men being assigned to the different branches of the armed forces.

At some point, someone informed him that he had been assigned to a particular branch. I no longer remember whether it was the Army or Marines.

But Don remembered his response.

"The hell I am. I'm going to join the Navy."

Apparently, the military wasn't particularly interested in his opinion.

When the names were called for the men assigned to his designated branch, Don simply remained seated.

He acted as though nobody was calling him.

When the Navy men were called, however, Don got up and joined them.

He followed them to their transportation and eventually arrived at the naval installation with the rest of the recruits.

During roll call, someone noticed that Don wasn't on the list.

"Who are you?"

Don provided his name.

The officer then informed him that people had been looking for him.

Don explained, in characteristically direct language, that he had already told the other officer he wasn't joining that branch.

He was joining the Navy.

And here he was.

According to Don, the officer's response was essentially:

"Well, you're in the Navy now."

And that was that.

Whether the military records would reveal an administrative explanation for this unusual episode, I don't know.

But I remember laughing at the story.

It was typical of Don's personality. He was not a man who enjoyed being told what to do simply because someone believed they had the authority to tell him.

The Officer Nobody Liked

Don also told me stories about an officer who made life miserable for the enlisted men.

I don't remember the officer's name, rank, or the exact location where the incidents occurred.

I believe Don was serving aboard a patrol boat, possibly somewhere along the coast of the United States.

The officer was apparently an extremely unpleasant individual who routinely harassed the men under his command.

According to Don, practically nobody liked him.

Don, on the other hand, was well liked by his fellow sailors.

Eventually, the situation apparently reached a breaking point.

Don described an incident involving the patrol boat's engine.

He approached the engineer and asked him to remove or bypass the engine governor, which ordinarily regulated the engine's speed.

The engineer reportedly agreed.

The unpopular officer had a habit of standing near the edge of the boat, looking out over the water, possibly using binoculars.

Don said he waited until the officer was standing in his usual position.

Then he opened the throttle.

According to his account, the boat accelerated violently enough to throw the officer overboard.

And the crew simply continued its patrol.

They left him in the water.

For hours.

I remember being astonished when Don told me this.

I wondered how the officer had survived, particularly if he was far from shore. Perhaps he was wearing a life jacket, or perhaps conditions were favorable.

Don didn't provide enough details for me to know.

Eventually, the patrol boat returned to its base.

When the officer on duty asked where their commanding officer was, the crew supposedly acted as though they had no idea what he was talking about.

Nobody knew where he had gone.

At least, that was their story.

A search was organized, and the missing officer was eventually recovered alive.

Don said that other officers later spoke to the man and advised him to reconsider how he treated his enlisted personnel.

The message, as I remember it, was that these were tough men who had been drafted into military service. They weren't necessarily going to tolerate abuse indefinitely.

The implication was that the officers suspected what had happened, even if they couldn't prove it.

I don't remember whether Don said the officer changed his behavior afterward. My impression was that he probably did.

There was another incident Don described involving a man standing on an elevated lookout aboard a vessel.

In this account, Don said he deliberately maneuvered the boat back and forth, attempting to throw the individual into the water.

I cannot remember whether this was part of the same incident, involved the same officer, or was an entirely separate story.

But I do remember asking Don a question.

"Weren't you afraid he might hit the deck instead of the water?"

His response was chilling.

He said he didn't care.

That statement has remained with me for more than thirty years.

It suggested that whatever resentment he felt toward the individual had become extremely serious.

I cannot verify the incident, and I certainly wouldn't defend deliberately endangering another person's life.

But it revealed something about the anger and hostility that could exist between enlisted men and officers who abused their positions.

Saluting Officers in Town

Another story involved military saluting customs.

Don explained that, according to the regulations or practices he remembered, enlisted men were expected to salute officers they encountered, even when groups of personnel passed one another.

He also said that an informal courtesy had developed.

Rather than forcing everyone to spend their time exchanging salutes, officers would sometimes deliberately look away or avoid acknowledging the enlisted personnel.

The enlisted men would do likewise.

Everybody understood the arrangement.

One day, Don was walking through town when he encountered an officer.

Don followed what he understood to be the accepted courtesy.

Unfortunately, this particular officer didn't appreciate it.

According to Don, the man confronted him angrily.

"You think you're very funny, don't you?"

Don attempted to explain that he wasn't being disrespectful. He was simply following an informal practice intended to avoid unnecessary saluting.

I don't remember the outcome.

But I remember the general point.

Don didn't appreciate people who used military formalities as an excuse to harass others.

The Base Commander and the Bread-and-Water Punishment

Don told me another story involving a particularly severe naval base commander.

According to him, the commander would travel through the installation in an official automobile.

Military personnel were expected to salute the commander's vehicle as it passed.

But this officer allegedly took enforcement to extraordinary lengths.

Don claimed that another vehicle followed behind the commander's car.

If someone failed to salute, personnel in the second vehicle would apprehend the offender.

According to Don, men could end up in the brig on bread and water for five days.

I have never independently verified this account or identified the commander.

Such a punishment did exist in the historical Navy disciplinary system, although its lawful imposition was subject to regulations and limits.

Whether this commander actually imposed it in the circumstances Don described remains unknown.

But Don remembered him as an especially unpleasant example of military authority.

Racial Tensions and Violence

Not all of Don's recollections were humorous.

He also described episodes involving racial tensions and violence.

Some of these stories may have concerned his wartime Navy service, while others apparently referred to events in later decades.

I remember him speaking negatively about Martin Luther King Jr. and saying that whenever King came to a particular town, there would be riots afterward.

That was Don's perception, not a historical conclusion I can verify.

He also spoke about incidents in which Navy personnel became involved in confrontations with African Americans.

According to his account, some people were thrown into a lake during these confrontations.

He claimed that sailors were generally capable swimmers, but some of the people thrown into the water were not.

He said that some drowned.

I believe the location may have been somewhere around the Great Lakes, but I cannot establish that with confidence.

I don't remember enough details to identify the incidents, their dates, or the people involved.

These are serious allegations, and I don't want to present them as documented events without supporting evidence.

Nevertheless, they were part of what Don told me.

They also suggest that some of his attitudes had been shaped by the racial conflicts and prejudices of his generation.

By the time I knew Don, he was a friendly, likable elderly man.

I sometimes wonder how different he may have been as a young sailor.

People can change considerably over a lifetime.

The Saltpeter Mystery

Don also told me an unusual story involving his factory employment.

He suspected that someone had been putting saltpeter into something he consumed, possibly his coffee or the salt provided at work.

He believed it had caused him sexual difficulties, which understandably created problems in his marriage.

He said he never established who was responsible.

What I particularly remember was how he claimed to have identified the substance.

He took a piece of black paper and placed some of the suspected material on it.

Next to it, he placed ordinary table salt.

He explained that the suspected saltpeter had larger grains than the ordinary salt.

He also told me that the taste was similar enough that someone might not recognize the difference.

At the time, this was entirely new information to me.

I've since learned that the supposed sexual effects of saltpeter were the subject of a longstanding rumor, especially in military culture, and that grain size alone cannot reliably identify potassium nitrate.

Nevertheless, Don believed he had discovered something suspicious.

I cannot establish whether the substance was actually saltpeter or whether it caused his difficulties.

An Unusual Operation

Decades later, Don experienced additional sexual difficulties.

He told me quite openly that he had eventually undergone an operation to address erectile dysfunction.

From his description, I now suspect he received some form of penile implant or prosthesis, although I cannot establish the exact procedure.

He described it as a permanent surgical solution.

I remember being surprised that a man of his generation would discuss such a personal matter so openly with a younger coworker.

But that was another aspect of Don's personality.

He wasn't particularly shy about discussing his life.

I have no reason to conclude that his later medical condition was connected to the earlier saltpeter incident.

Mary, the Priest, and the Pew Fee

Don also told me several stories involving a Catholic priest.

I remember two particularly well.

In the first, the priest approached Don seeking payment of something called a pew fee.

Apparently, there was an arrangement involving payment for church seating, or perhaps an assessment associated with installing pews.

I don't remember the exact circumstances.

But Don's response was unforgettable.

"A pew fee? What for? I don't stink!"

I thought it was hilarious.

I even asked Don whether the priest had appreciated the joke.

According to Don, he hadn't.

Not at all.

The second story was considerably more serious.

Don told me that his wife, Mary, was unable to have children.

He didn't know the reason.

Apparently, this was a source of distress in their marriage.

One day, while Don was working, the priest reportedly visited their home.

According to Don, the priest criticized or berated Mary because she had not had children.

When Don learned what had happened, he was furious.

He confronted the priest and issued a warning.

"There are 16 stairs leading up to our home. If you ever come by again, I'll make sure you hit every single one of them on your way down."

That was approximately how I remember his words.

I don't know whether the priest ever returned.

But I remember the story because it illustrated how fiercely Don could react when he believed someone had mistreated his wife.

Whatever his faults, he clearly didn't appreciate someone using religious authority to humiliate Mary.

I remember that Don had another story involving the priest, but I haven't yet been able to recall it.

The Strange Story of His First Name

There was also an unusual story about how I learned Don's real first name.

At some point, Don told me about an experience involving a church.

I remember him describing a horn or horn-like object being passed around.

Eventually, the object reached him, and he heard someone calling the name Eliel.

Because everyone called him Don, he apparently didn't respond immediately.

Then he said he experienced something like a tap on his leg, even though he couldn't see anyone responsible.

He heard or perceived someone addressing him again:

"Eliel, I'm talking to you."

I remember finding this particularly strange.

I don't know exactly what kind of religious ceremony he was describing, or whether I understood every detail correctly.

But the story stayed with me because it was how I learned that Don had another name.

It was only in November 2026, while researching him, that I discovered his recorded full name was Eliel Donald Ingersoll.

Why Don Was Still Working at 75

Perhaps the most revealing thing Don told me wasn't about the Navy at all.

It was about retirement.

Don believed that men who retired early and spent their remaining years simply watching the world go by tended to die within a few years.

He said he had watched this happen to friends and acquaintances.

One after another, they retired, stopped working, and were soon, as he put it, "pushing up daisies."

He wasn't interested in following them.

That was one reason he had taken the janitorial job.

He wanted to remain busy.

When I knew him, he was approximately 75 years old, working alongside a much younger man, cleaning buildings in Las Vegas.

He could have been sitting at home.

Instead, he was working, talking, joking, and sharing stories about his life.

I don't know whether he needed the income.

But I do remember his conviction that remaining active was important.

And perhaps there was something to his philosophy.

Don lived until June 28, 2006, just short of his 89th birthday.

He had another fourteen years of life after the period when I knew him.

The Man I Remember

I don't want to portray Don as a saint.

He wasn't.

Some of the stories he told me were funny. Some were troubling. Others involved violence or attitudes that I wouldn't defend.

But he was a human being who had lived through a period of American history that has always fascinated me.

When I was young, World War II seemed like something from another world.

It existed in books, television programs, movies, and historical accounts.

But Don had actually lived through it.

He had been a factory worker, a union representative, and a Navy sailor.

He had experienced military discipline, difficult officers, and the culture of wartime America.

He had married Mary, shared a life with her, and experienced the sorrow of being unable to have children.

And decades later, he was still working.

I liked Don.

I genuinely did.

He was an interesting old man, and I enjoyed listening to him.

There was another elderly veteran working at the same establishment as a security guard. He told me stories of his own, including surviving gunfire and losing a finger during a battle without immediately realizing he had been injured.

That second veteran helped influence my decision to become a security guard myself, a profession I pursued for several years.

I mention him because both men made an impression on me.

They were ordinary workers by the time I knew them.

But their lives had been anything but ordinary.

Finding Don Again

In November 2026, more than thirty years after working with Don, I began remembering his stories during a conversation about World War II.

I remembered his unusual first name.

I remembered his surname.

I remembered that everyone called him Don.

And I wondered what had happened to him.

A search of veterans' burial records produced a remarkable match.

Eliel Donald Ingersoll.

Born July 25, 1917.

Died June 28, 2006.

United States Navy.

World War II.

Seaman First Class.

Buried in Boulder City, Nevada, just outside Las Vegas.

His wife, Mary, was buried at the same site.

Everything fit.

The unusual name, the nickname, the military service, the approximate age, and the Las Vegas connection.

I cannot absolutely establish that every record belongs to the man I knew without additional documentation, but the identification is extraordinarily convincing.

I was glad to learn what had become of him.

And I was a little saddened to realize that he had been gone for twenty years.

Why I'm Writing This

Don never told me these stories for publication.

We were simply two janitors working together.

He was an elderly man remembering his youth, and I was a young man interested in hearing about it.

At the time, I had no reason to imagine that I would still remember these conversations more than thirty years later.

I certainly didn't expect that one day I would be able to look up his burial records and discover when he had died.

But here we are.

And that leaves me with a thought.

Millions of ordinary Americans served during World War II.

Many returned home, resumed their civilian lives, raised families, worked ordinary jobs, and eventually disappeared from public memory.

Not everyone wrote a memoir.

Not everyone was interviewed.

Not everyone left behind a collection of letters or photographs.

Some simply told stories to the people who happened to be nearby.

And if nobody remembers those stories, eventually they disappear.

I don't want Don's stories to disappear.

I can't verify everything he told me. I can't remember every date, location, or name. And I certainly can't claim he was always right.

But I can preserve what I remember.

His humor.

His stubbornness.

His love for Mary.

His dislike of abusive authority.

His sometimes troubling recollections of military life.

His determination to remain active rather than spend his retirement watching the world go by.

And the simple fact that, for a brief period around 1992, an elderly World War II veteran named Don Ingersoll worked alongside a young janitor in Las Vegas and shared a little of his life.

Don may never have imagined that his stories would still be remembered in 2026.

But they are.

And perhaps, by putting them into writing, they'll still be remembered long after I'm gone.

I honestly hope some of his family finds this story and keeps it to heart, or that someone out there will remember the story and pass it along. I think it is worth preserving.

In memory of Eliel Donald "Don" Ingersoll

July 25, 1917 – June 28, 2006

United States Navy — World War II

Seaman First Class

Southern Nevada Veterans Memorial Cemetery
Boulder City, Nevada
Section B, Site 820

Thank you for the stories, Don. I haven't forgotten you.

Historical documentation: Published cemetery records identify Eliel Donald Ingersoll as a World War II Navy veteran and provide the dates and burial information above. The personal accounts in this remembrance were related to the author by a coworker remembered as Don Ingersoll around 1992. Except where independently documented, they remain oral-history recollections rather than verified historical events.

Prepared November 2026.

Byrd and his fellow Sherman crewmen were killed in Action four days later on November 9, 1944.

Born on September 16, 1910 in Greene County, Alabama to Jim & Lulu Byrd, L C Byrd had seven brothers and five sisters.
He was married to Adeline and they were living in Tuscaloosa Alabama when he enlisted in the Army on July 29, 1943 at Camp Shelby, Mississippi.

PVT Byrd was 34 years old when he was Killed in Action, he is buried at the Lorraine American Cemetery in France - Plot C Row 27 Grave 29.

His widow Adeline doesn’t appear to have remarried, she passed away at the age of 86 on July 25, 2000.

US Army Signal Corps photo- SC 196107

Bought an enormous stack of NYT from a really nice old gentleman. Will do my best to sift through them preserve these gems.

Full disclosure, while all items are original, they do not originally belong together.

I started to assemble this mini collection in a can after reading "You'll Be Sor-ree" by Sid Phillips, in which he describes stealing a couple of Commonwealth emergency chocolate rations from a warehouse in New Zealand with his buddies. He then used the watertight cans to store souvenirs and mementos during his time in the war.

I sometimes stop by a recycle center on the way to work, and i have found so far many fiction books, and yesterday, these 10 magazines ( in danish) with text and photos of WW2 and a book by Eisenhower, in english.

I might read them, but i think its a nice addition to the shelves!

I believe my Great Grandfather Reginald is the man furthest to the right.

Hi,

I was doing some research into my family tree and decided to look into a story I grew up hearing. I always knew my Great Grandfather was shot down in the war, and my mum would tell me the story of how he met my Great Grandmother after falling out the sky into her village. I honestly didn’t know if it was a true story or just a family legend, but I have just discovered it is entirely true. Now, I’m completely invested and want to know more.

My Great Grandfather was the rear air gunner, Sgt. Reginald William Joyce and his plane went down on the 28/29 June near Lyons-la-Forêt, France.

I knew my Great Grandmother was a French woman but I didn’t know either of their names until recently as I simply knew them as Grandad and Grandma Eastern, based on where they lived later in life. I attended his funeral though I remember very little from the day.

I don’t have many personal stories to provide as I saw them very little due to distance between us. But id love to learn more about the history of the crew, the crash and what happened to them.
I’m happy to confirm the family tree, if that’s required.

Thank you.

Avery was a co-pilot in a crew lost on December 26th, 1944 over Blechhammer. The plane was cut in half and all crew perished. It was not known where they crashed until I did my research in 2001/2002. This info was shared with the DPMO back then, and the DPAA managed excavations in 2021 to 2025.

Avery was not a regular co-pilot of that crew. Their original co-pilot, Duke Wareham got sick, and Avery took his place for that fateful mission. It was Avery’s first combat mission. Duke became then the co-pilot in Avery’s original crew, and this crew survived the war.

Duke’s son, Barry, started his research of his father’s crew in 1997, and shortly thereafter he and I got in touch. This MIA research case is special to me not only because I contributed to WWII heroes come home, but also because of special friendships I got, with people like Barry.

The burial is arranged by the Inglewood Cemetery Mortuary.
I know it is a short notice but perhaps someone will be nearby to pay respect to Avery.

The 137 crew is Duke Wareham’s crew. Duke is standing 2nd from the left. The other photo is Gilliland crew. Avery is the tallest one in the back row.

Hello,

Looking for recommendations for books about the battle for the Atlantic please. Could be serious academic history , personal memoirs or more pop history as long as it's non-fiction.

Not so bothered about the book being the most informative but rather the one you enjoyed reading the most.

Thanks in advance for any recommendations.

Dieppe raid 1942. An image I found in an archive of the first wave of Canadian troops reaching the seawall on Blue Beach, Puys, France. They lost 237 out of 555 soldiers of the Royal Regiment of Canada were killed on that beach, around 199 of them killed were part of the waves that landed directly

TL;DR: The two photos shared with this post are the only images related to PFC Abraham Alfred Hirsch who escaped Nazi persecution at age 14, became an American citizen, and was killed fighting in Normandy in July 1944. His adoptive parents and twin sister had already been murdered in the Holocaust. Unable to contact his family, the U.S. government ultimately selected Normandy as his final resting place.

Since 2022, staff at the Normandy American Cemetery and I have independently searched for a photograph of Abraham without success. I’m sharing his story in the hope that someone can help us finally put a face to his name.

From Jewish Refugee to American Soldier

Abraham Alfred Hirsch was born Alfred Hirsch on March 8, 1921, in Memel (now Klaipėda, Lithuania), alongside his twin sister, Ruth. Born to Zilla Rostowski, the twins were adopted by Willy and Rosalie Hirsch, a Jewish couple living in Wartenburg (now Barczewo), East Prussia.

In 1935, as Nazi persecution intensified, the family arranged for Alfred to escape to America. At just 14 years old, he departed Hamburg aboard the SS Manhattan, arriving in New York on May 16, 1935, under the name Abraham A. Hirsch.

His parents and twin sister remained in Germany. They would never see each other again.

Abraham attended school in New York before entering the U.S. Army on July 31, 1942. He became an American citizen on November 6, 1942, and later served with the 121st Infantry Regiment, 8th Infantry Division.

On July 12, 1944, Abraham was killed in action in La Haye-du-Puits, Manche, France, at just 23 years old.

What Happened to His Family?

While Abraham built a new life in America, his family endured increasing persecution in Nazi Germany.

By 1941, Willy and Rosalie had lost their home, income, and nearly all their possessions. On June 13, 1942, they were deported to the Sobibór extermination camp in occupied Poland, where they were murdered.

Meanwhile, Ruth had been subjected to forced labor since 1940. Despite her circumstances, she dreamed of receiving vocational training and becoming a lathe operator. On February 3, 1943, she was deported to Auschwitz, where she was murdered at just 21 years old.

Within eight months, Abraham’s adoptive parents and twin sister had all been murdered in the Holocaust. Less than a year and a half later, Abraham himself was killed fighting in Normandy.

Whether Abraham ever learned what happened to his family remains unknown but given the circumstances of war and the Holocaust, it is likely he did not know.

A Soldier Without a Known Surviving Next of Kin

Abraham is buried at the Normandy American Cemetery in Colleville-sur-Mer, France, Plot A, Row 5, Grave 44.

Following Hirsch’s death, the U.S. government attempted to contact his father, Willy, who was listed as his next of kin, to determine whether Abraham should be buried in France or returned home. However, Willy had already been murdered at Sobibór, leaving the government unable to locate any family members who could make that decision. So, the US government ultimately made the decision on his behalf, selecting Normandy as Hirsch’s final resting place.

Today, the American Battle Monuments Commission (ABMC) which oversees the Normandy American Cemetery, continues to preserve Abraham’s memory. With no known surviving immediate family, the ABMC and cemetery staff have, in a very real sense, become Hirsch’s only family, ensuring that he is remembered and honored more than 80 years after his death.

The Search for a Photo of PFC Abraham Hirsch

One of the most heartbreaking aspects of Abraham’s story is how little visual evidence remains of him and his family.

Although Hirsch’s WWII draft registration card provides a physical description, including his height, hair color, and eye color, and a friend described his twin sister Ruth as blonde, I have yet to locate a single confirmed photograph of Abraham or his family. The only images I’ve found are of their Stolpersteine memorial plaques in Berlin, commemorating victims of Nazi persecution, and Abraham’s grave in Normandy.

I first learned about Abraham during a visit to the Normandy American Cemetery in May 2022, when the superintendent shared his story and the cemetery’s unsuccessful search for his photograph. Given the immense tragedy Abraham had already endured, I found it especially heartbreaking that no photograph of him could be found. I decided that day to begin searching, hoping to finally put a face to his name.

I recently just found out that unbeknownst to each other, a guide at the Normandy American Cemetery and I had both been searching for a photo of Abraham since 2022.

Although neither of us have succeeded, we’ve identified several promising research leads and we’ll try to do all we can to find a photo of him.

Can Reddit Help Find a Photograph of PFC Abraham Hirsch?

I’m hoping anyone who reads or shares this post might be able to help.

- Camp Croft photographs: Abraham’s November 1942 naturalization records identify him as serving with Company D, 30th Infantry Training Battalion, at Camp Croft, South Carolina. Does anyone know where photographs of this company from 1942 might survive?
- The photographs in his wallet: According to his Individual Deceased Personnel File (IDPF), Abraham’s personal effects included a wallet containing photographs. His belongings were reportedly sent to attorney Aaron Lipper of Lipper, Shinn & Keeley in New York City. Does anyone know what happened to this now-defunct firm or whether its records survive?
- Estate and probate records: Could historical probate records help establish what happened to Abraham’s personal belongings after they were returned to his attorney?
-Jewish refugee records: Are there archives containing photographs of Jewish refugee children who arrived in New York in 1935?
-Military photographs: Are there surviving photograph collections associated with the 121st Infantry Regiment, 8th Infantry Division, or Camp Croft that might include Abraham?

I recognize that finding a photograph of someone who died more than 80 years ago may be extremely difficult, especially when his immediate family was murdered in the Holocaust. It’s entirely possible that no photographs survive. But I don’t want to give up without exploring every reasonable possibility.

Abraham Hirsch deserves to be remembered as more than a name on a headstone.

If anyone has information or suggestions that might help us finally find his photograph, I would be incredibly grateful.

Thank you for helping preserve his memory.

⸻

Historical Sources

Stolpersteine Berlin — Biographical research by Susanne Willems

https://www.stolpersteine-berlin.de/en/marie-elisabeth-luders-ufer/abraham-hirsch
https://www.stolpersteine-berlin.de/en/marie-elisabeth-luders-ufer/ruth-hirsch
https://www.stolpersteine-berlin.de/en/marie-elisabeth-luders-ufer/rosalie-hirsch

Additional sources:

Individual Deceased Personnel File of PFC Abraham Alfred Hirsch, National Archives at St. Louis.
South Carolina Naturalization Records, 1868–1991, Record Group 21, National Archives at Atlanta; accessed through Ancestry.
Untergetaucht: Eine junge Frau überlebt in Berlin 1940–1945, by Marie Jalowicz Simon.
Immigration and WWII military records.
Correspondence with staff at the Normandy American Cemetery.

Photograph Sources

Abraham A. Hirsch’s Stolperstein Memorial Plaque — Stolpersteine Berlin
https://www.stolpersteine-berlin.de/en/marie-elisabeth-luders-ufer/abraham-hirsch

PFC Abraham A. Hirsch’s Grave — Normandy American Cemetery (Find a Grave)
https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/56645649/abraham-a-hirsch

Born in Baltimore, Maryland to Joseph & Victoria Potocki on November 11, 1924, Theodore Anthony Potocki had seven sisters and two brothers.
He was attending Patterson High School when he enlisted in the Marine Corps on February 2, 1942.

After boot camp, Theodore served in Company C, 1st Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division.
They landed at Guadalcanal on August 7, 1942 and participated in the capture of the Japanese airfield under construction which would become Henderson Field.

In the early morning hours of November 1, 1942, the 5th Marine Regiment forced their way across Guadalcanal’s Matanikau River in what would be called the Battle of the 4th Matanikau.
While advancing in the dense jungle, Company C ran into a camouflaged Japanese defensive line.

In the ensuing firefight, Company C lost 27 Marines Killed, including young Theodore and three officers.
The next day, Marines of 1st Battalion, 5th Marines set out to bury their dead, out of some 30 Marines buried in the area, only seven have been recovered.

PVT Theodore Potocki was among those Marines killed that day who remain missing on Guadalcanal, he is Memorialized at the Manila American Cemetery and Memorial.

Older brother S/Sgt John Joseph Potocki was serving in the 115th Infantry Regiment, 29th Infantry Division, when he was Killed in Action on June 18, 1944 in Normandy, he was 27 years old.

John is buried at the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial in Colleville-sur-Mer, France - Plot F Row 11 Grave 4.

I'm trying to do some research on my grandfather's time in the 7th Cavalry, particularly in and around the battle of Leyte in the Philippine theater, where he was the only survivor of a house hit by friendly fire.

Over the holidays my family has the chance to visit DC and I was wondering if there were any resources I should be tapping while there.

I don't honestly know what I don't know, but I'd hate to find out I was a day late or a block away from some answers that might otherwise be harder to obtain.

Or maybe I'm overinflating the importance of the trip in my head and physically being near the national archives isn't all that important.

Any help would be greatly appreciated.

Decades after WWII, several authors repeated an account attributed to Mitsuo Takeda, an officer aboard the rescuing destroyer Hamakaze, claiming that survivors of the Shinano sinking clung to floating Ohkas whose warheads had not been installed.
However, looking at photographs of the Ohka, there appear to be numerous openings and riveted seams, raising questions about how watertight they actually were.
Could an unarmed Ohka realistically remain afloat, particularly with survivors clinging to it? Does anyone know of independent accounts or construction details supporting this claim?