#52 Ancestors 2020 Week 11 Luck: Frank Scrivener's Lucky Break

My Dad, Frank Phillip Scrivener III, was a member of what is called "the greatest generation." Born in 1925, the oldest son of Frank Scrivener Jr. and Elizabeth Dent, he grew up in Baltimore.  He attended Newman Prep School in New Jersey (thanks to his grandmother) and Calvert Hall in Baltimore.  "Hank," as he was then nicknamed, was a gifted athlete, captaining the tennis team and also playing basketball, as his yearbook noted.  He had plans to enter college.

But, like so many of his peers, his college plans had to be set aside for military service in World War II.  He got in one year at Loyola College in Baltimore before enlisting in July 1943. It was only by a "lucky break" (literally) that he missed fighting in the infamous Battle of the Bulge.

After enlistment, Dad was sent to Ft. Hood TX for basic training and then to Baylor University for advanced training in engineering. He was attached to the 99th Infantry Division, 34th Signal Company.

His division was set to deploy in late 1944, headed for England and later France and Belgium.  The night before shipping out, Frank decided to get in one more round of hoops before leaving.  During the game, he fell and broke his ankle and thus was unable to deploy with the rest of the men.  So, he missed the largest and bloodiest battle of WWII. The 99th Division, outnumbered by the Germans about 5 to 1, lost about 20 percent of its strength there due to death and injury.

Of course, my mother (his girlfriend at the time) did not know that Frank was in a stateside hospital.   He wrote to her, but could not reveal his location, so naturally, she was worried when she saw the news about the devastating battles in Europe.

Eventually, Dad was sent to Europe in February 1945.  He served in Italy as a cryptologic technician, encoding and decoding messages.    (And playing a little tennis in his off hours.)  He was honorably discharged at Ft. Meade MD in March 1946 as a Technician fifth grade.

After leaving the service, Dad married his sweetheart, Anne Summers, and went back to Loyola on the GI Bill graduating in 1949.  In his spare time, he captained the tennis team and showed off his beautiful baby girl--me--to his fellow Greyhounds.  (Back row, 2nd from the right in the picture below.)  So, I guess I would have to say that Dad's lucky break was also mine, because without it, there's a good chance I wouldn't be here.

My mother attributes Dad's lucky break to the St. Christopher medal which he carried with him throughout his war service. Whether it was St. Christopher or some other heavenly guardian, or my mother's prayers, someone was certainly looking out for Dad.