My dad fought in the third division, and landed at Anzio, on the northwestern coast of Africa. Fought his way across north Africa, across Sicily, up into Italy. About halfway up into Italy he was severely wounded and spent 6 months in an army hospital. His story is too long to tell, but he was awarded three purple hearts and the bronze star for valor. His captain told him that he was going to send in a recommendation for the silver star, but was killed in battle before he could get word to HQ. The captain died on a hill with my dad trying to save his life. Everyone died in that battle but my dad. He laid on that hill for 24 hours severely wounded, until the Germans retreated and medics could get to him. Wish I could remember all he told me. It was pretty bad. To say that I am proud of him would be an understatement. He passed in 1992.