He exchanged more than one letter during the war with his nephew, Richard Cheyney Manke and he was in fact a hero to him.  He attained the rank of T/Sgt in a medical regiment of the Third Infantry Division but somewhere along the line, probably late 1943 got (as the story goes) busted for going for a ride with some guy who had stolen the captain's jeep.  He was subsequently transferred to the 81st Infantry Division 321st Regimental Combat Team, 306th Medical Battalion - Company A.  Company A was a "collecting" company whose task was to find and "collect" wounded.  He took part in two invasions, the islands of Anguar and Peleliu.

He returned home in December 1945 and came from the streetcar line to our house and I vividly remember climbing my 9 year old body up his frame to give him a hug..  He lived with us for quite awhile until he got married.
He was a hockey player and gave me my first pair of hockey gloves. After we moved to Cincinnati I would stay with them when I went back to visit St. Paul.  He related a few stories of the gore he witnessed, (like holding some guy's throat together until the medics got there) and I think he suffered from what we know today as PTSD.  He divorced in the mid fifties, moved to Eau Claire WI and ate the business end of a 12ga shotgun on December 28, 1958 at the very young age of 38.  No reasons were ever found or at least revealed to us as to why, but both Bob and I agree that the war was at the root.