A little before 11 o'clock in the still hot morning, an elderly Western Union messenger climbed the steps to the red-bricked sun porch of a bungalow in Tonawanda, N.Y., and pressed the bell. Mrs. Michael C. Niland was busy with the housework when she heard it.
Mrs. Niland, a stout, calm woman who is "Stumpy" to her four boys, signed the messenger's pad, opened the telegram. It was from Adjutant General Ulio, and it read: "The Secretary of War desires that I tender his deep sympathy to you on the loss of your son Preston....
To continue reading:
or
Log-In