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Piece Of His Past Found In Tunisia

Tribune photo by CHRIS URSO

Ken Kneisel is reflected on a TV screen as he watches a video of himself paying his last respects to his father in Tunis, Tunisia.

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By CHRISTIAN M. WADE, The Tampa Tribune

Published: January 24, 2008

Updated: 01/24/2008 12:13 am

Ken Kneisel looked out at the endless sea of white crosses.

There were hundreds of them, each casting a long shadow across the freshly cut grass.

The sound of morning prayers echoed from towering minarets beyond the cemetery walls as he made his way down the stone path, men in uniforms on either side.

Then, from a distance, he saw it. It was flanked by little American flags.

He leaned forward to read the inscription etched into the white marble.

JOHN T. KNEISEL

PFC 18 INF 1DIV

NEW YORK

NOV 8 1942

At 69, Ken Kneisel had waited nearly his whole life for this day.

Last fall, the Spring Hill man traveled more than 5,000 miles to the ancient North African city of Tunis, Tunisia, a place men have fought and died over for thousands of years.

He'd come to bury his ghosts.

To find a missing piece of his past.

To see his father again.

The story begins in Brooklyn in the early 1940s, home of the Dodgers and Ebbets Field, and the hardscrabble but closely knit Greenpoint neighborhood where Ken Kneisel was born.

He was 4 when his father joined the Army, one of thousands of young New Yorkers who enlisted in the military as America prepared to enter World War II.

In his earliest memory of Dad, young Ken was sitting on a stool in a saloon as his father joked about whether the boy was strong enough to open a small bag of Wise potato chips.

It's a recollection that became more like a dream as years passed.

One that would haunt him.

Soon after, Pfc. John Kneisel was sent overseas as part of an invasion force that sought to establish a strategic beachhead in Nazi-controlled North Africa.

Ken was too young to understand. But he missed his father.

There were a few letters home, wishing the family well and saying he would be back soon.

Then on a crisp winter day, the family received word from the Defense Department that his father had been killed in action somewhere, it read, in the "Western European area."

He was the first casualty of the war from the Brooklyn neighborhood.

Ken's mother later remarried. The son didn't hear much about his father after that and, having been raised in a family where children were seen and not heard, he didn't bring it up.

The Army sent the fallen soldier's belongings home: a Purple Heart for valor, his rosary beads and a blood-stained Bible stuffed with family photos and letters from his wife.

But as far as the family knew, the body was never recovered.

"We just didn't talk about it and I didn't ask," Ken remembered. "That's just how it was."

Lost No Longer

Decades passed. Ken had moved to Long Island, finished school, gotten married, taken a job driving trucks and become a father of six.

He thought about his dad from time to time, when he found himself alone, looking through boxes of faded black-and-white photographs and other memorabilia.

His mother had died and he had given up hope of ever solving the mystery.

But a few years ago, Ken's eldest son, Gerard, started doing research.

It was like searching for a sliver in a lumberyard.

Many of the military records from John Kneisel's division were destroyed in a 1973 fire, and those that were available didn't yield information about his final resting place.

So the trail grew cold.

Then about a year ago, Ken's son Michael was visiting the National World War II Memorial in Washington and typed his grandfather's name into a computer database.

The information was basic, but it said where he was buried: Tunis, Tunisia.

A call was placed to Ken's home in the Hernando County retirement community of Timber Pines.

"Dad," son Michael said. "I think I've found him."

So Much To Tell Him

In November, their children booked Ken and his wife, Julia, on a cruise to Tunisia.

A ceremony was arranged at the North African American Cemetery with the highest ranking U.S. Embassy official, Col. Warren P. Gunderman, defense attache.

Nobody had visited the grave site for more than 60 years.

Cemetery staff highlighted John Kneisel's name in gold. They played taps and "The Star-Spangled Banner" on a tape recorder and saluted as a moment of silence was observed.

"It was very moving," Ken recalled. "Brought me to tears."

Before he left, Ken returned to his father's grave site one more time, alone.

The cemetery was empty. Silent. Peaceful.

With a trembling finger, he pressed record on the video camera and knelt down.

He wanted to capture the moment for future generations of Kneisels.

So many years had passed and there was so much to say.

Ken told his father about the five sons and a daughter he had raised. How proud their grandpa would be of them.

And about their 12 children. How beautiful they were.

Ken placed a family photo at the base of the white cross and placed his hand on top of it.

"Goodbye, dad," he said, pausing for a minute. Then he turned and walked away.

Reporter Christian M. Wade can be reached at (727) 815-1082 or cwade@tampatrib.com.

Keyword: Father, to watch Ken Kneisel's video of his visit to his father's grave. Keyword: Father, to watch Ken Kneisel's video of his visit to his father's grave.

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