When Daddy kissed us and our mama goodbye and joined thousands of other soldiers for war in Europe, my brother was three years old. As for me, his baby daughter, I had not yet reached my first birthday. My brother remembers very little about our daddy. Sadly, I remember nothing at all and oh, how I've struggled to remember him! So, as we've grown up, we've had to rely on the memory of others to form the picture of our hero father. When people mention him, nearly every one remarks about his good looks, beautiful smile and soft-spoken manner.

Daddy was born in Alabama on November 22, 1919, to Theodore and Rosa Woods Weekley. He was only nine years old when his mother died and he was placed in the home of his elderly Uncle Willie and Aunt Rebecca Pearl Weekley. Possibly to find comfort in grieving for the loss of his mother and being taken from his home, he and an old tomcat took a liking to each other and soon were constant companions. That's how our daddy got the name that stayed with him all his life -- "Tommy."

Uncle Willie and Aunt Becky Pearl were good to him and the several other "cousins" who lived there and worked the farm. When Sunday mornings came, Uncle Willie would wake them as he fastened his Sunday-go-to-meeting suspenders and softly call them through his long white beard in a slow sing-song drawl to get ready for church.

At the age of 20, on a tip from a friend, Daddy moved to Tallahassee, Florida, to find work. That's where he met Mama. They literally ran into each other as she rushed by when he stepped out of a doorway. When he flashed that smile at her, it was love at first sight and forever for both of them! They were married within the year and her large family welcomed him like one of their own. My brother was born in 1941 and they were happy in their little love nest . . . until the attack on Pearl Harbor cast a gloomy cloud over the future. Like other Americans, Daddy was about to enlist when he was met with Mama's tears, begging him to wait until he was drafted.

In September 1944 he left the tropical heat of Florida and entered France during its coldest winter on record. He fought on the front lines with the 45th Thunderbirds from France into Germany. Daddy was wounded in December and in January was hospitalized again for wounds received in combat. Rejoining his company, the 45th pursued the Nazis and in Daddy's own words -- they were "knocking Germans right and left." In April, they and two other divisions battled for Nuremberg. Daddy was killed the day before the city was taken.

No greater testament to the character of a man can be given than from his own "Band of Brothers." We are blessed to have letters from two of his buddies who told what kind of soldier our Daddy was. One wrote of how he was killed:

"I wasn't there at the time when Tommy got killed. I was hit the 12th of April and stayed in the hospital for one month, but when I got back to the company the boys told me about him. They say that they were taking this town by the name of Nuremberg. There was firing coming from this tower so they sent Tommy and a couple more boys there to get them. They went into this tower and got them lousy rats out. After that someone shot at him and the bullets got him in the back." - Jimmie King. Another wrote: "Although I didn't know Tom for a long time, he was my closest buddy as the days passed. For a man who hated war, he was a great soldier and above all, a still greater man. There isn't a man who fought with him and relaxed too in between campaigns who didn't think the world of him." - Edwin Zawpieri

Daddy was awarded The Bronze Star posthumously, two Purple Hearts with a Cluster, Army Commendation Ribbon with Valor, and The Combat Infantryman's Badge. The Bronze Star Citation reads: "Sergeant Weekley and another soldier led a squad of riflemen in clearing a group of houses in Nuremberg. Under enemy sniper and automatic weapons fire, they ran across a street and into a cellar that was an enemy strongpoint. Leading their squad through a series of tunnels, they succeeded in overrunning two enemy positions, taking 65 prisoners and inflicting numerous casualties on the enemy."

While researching his service with the 180th Infantry and reading the letters I found, sometimes it felt like Daddy was nearby. It has been inspiring to learn about him personally. His love for country and family, and his extraordinary courage glows through his letters and in his brief life. Our daddy rests among more than 10,500 soldiers in the Lorraine American Cemetery and Memorial in St. Avold (Moselle), France. Most of the Patriots in this cemetery were killed during the advance across Germany in the spring of 1945. I feel that surely there is a wonderful reward in Heaven, specifically designed by our Lord for the soldiers who have sacrificed their lives for an honorable cause.