My father was born in San Francisco, CA in 1905 into a Norwegian family of 3 boys and 2 girls. His family was burnt out in the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. His mother died when he was 13 and the children went to Randall, Kansas to live with Aunt Emma on the Kansas farm. His best friend joined the Marine Corps and talked my dad into joining in 1925. My dad was a career Marine, he spent 10 years in China in the Intelligence area of the Legation Guard and was also the First Sergeant on the Chaumont, the ship that would pick up young recruits in San Diego and make sure they were Marines by the time they arrived in Shanghai.

He was sent to Quantico and became an officer and gained a gold marksman medal with his Springfield '04. He spent time at Camp Elliott in San Diego and was the officer that trained talented young marines on the finer arts of the rifle.

In early 1943, my dad was named Commanding Officer of Battery D, Special Weapons, and was one of the first officers at the new Camp Pendleton. He met my beautiful mother who was a nurse at Scripps Hospital in LaJolla, CA and two years later I was born on Jan. 10, 1944. My dad got to sneak into the Hospital and hold me before he left for the Pacific on Jan. 13, 1944. He made it through the Marshall Islands and then came Saipan.

It is said that the Marines had secured the island but heard that some nuns were being held in a cave by the Japanese. My dad, a Major Roger Broome and PFC Crane found the cave and all three were badly wounded by the Japanese. My dad died a week later in Hawaii, and received the Silver Star. The Major died 6 months later and received the Navy Cross and the PFC wounded with a bullet between the eyes lived and received Purple Heart. The daughter of the Major and I found the PFC and enveloped him in our lives.

My mother made sure that my father was a huge part of my life. My dad's large photo in his uniform (the one attached) was always on the mantle above the fireplace and was always looking out for me. I remember walking home in Bakersfield, CA. and looking up at the stars and I was just positive that my dad was up there winking at me. My mother never remarried and died at the age of 90 in 1993. It was then that I found all my dad's letters and my cousin Anne told me about this organization for children that lost their fathers in WWII.

I will forever be grateful to her and to Annie Mix. I've been on the list serve for many, many years and have followed all those like me. The similarities are stunning and I have understood more about myself by reading their pains and successes. I have researched and found many of the men who served with my dad. I attend annual reunions and those wonderful men have enriched my life. In June of 2004, I journied to Saipan to be part of the 60th anniversary of the battle for Saipan. Major Broome's daughter will accompany me (her father was with mine on that fateful day).

While I have missed having a complete family, I feel very grateful for all the blessings I have received. I had a wonderful mother, a great family both on the father's side and my mother's side, two beautiful children, a great career, and AWON.