[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 159 (2013), Part 9]
[Senate]
[Pages 12982-12983]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                        REMEMBERING PETER SORBO

  Mr. MURPHY. Madam President, today I wish to honor the service of Mr. 
Peter Sorbo, of Connecticut, whose family resides in Waterbury, CT. In 
January 1943, 18 year-old Peter Sorbo enlisted in the Army to serve his 
country during World War II. Deployed to the European theater and 
assigned to Bombardment Group 384, Squadron 545, he served as a waist 
gunner on a B-17 Flying Fortress and perished on August 12, 1943 after 
his plane was shot down above the Rhine.
  I would like to have printed in the Record an article from the 
Waterbury Republican American that outlines this fascinating story 
about one of Connecticut's brave soldiers.
  Many of Connecticut's sons, like Peter Sorbo, gave their lives 
defending our freedom and they deserve our perpetual gratitude. I ask 
that this body devote itself to remembering these courageous men and 
women by honoring their sacrifices and forever preserving their 
memories.

[[Page 12983]]

  The following article written by Mike Patrick appeared in the July 
29, 2013 edition of the Waterbury Republican-American. Madam President, 
I ask unanimous consent that it be printed in the Record.
  There being no objection, the article was ordered to be printed in 
the Record as follows:

                        The Truth . . . Finally


  It took decades, but Waterbury sisters learn about their brother's 
                         death in World War II

       Waterbury.--A family friend, some Internet research and the 
     handwritten notes of prisoners of war have unearthed a story 
     of tragic heroism that after seven decades has at last 
     brought closure for two Waterbury sisters whose brother died 
     in World War II.
       ``He was a good kid, a really good boy,'' Marie Debiase 
     said through tears. ``After 70 years, we're finally finding 
     out what happened to him.''
       All she knew all these years, she said, was that her 
     brother, Peter Sorbo, died when his plane was shot down over 
     the Rhine in 1943.
       But recently, her sister Joann Devino met Carmen Mancuso, 
     one of their brother's old friends, at church. Mancuso said 
     his son Richard was pretty handy at Internet research and may 
     be able to learn a little more about the circumstances of 
     Sorbo's death.
       The sisters gave them some of their brother's letters and 
     other documents, and Richard Mancuso, a sales manager from 
     Madison and self-described history buff, got to work.
       ``I read a few of them it struck my interest,'' he said. 
     ``I started Googling it.''
       Mancuso discovered a treasure trove of information, 
     including reports of Sorbo's death written by the men who 
     served with him that day.
       The following story was pieced together from those reports, 
     and from family recollections.
       Peter Sorbo was working in the United Cigar store late in 
     1942 when a woman came in and chided him with something like, 
     ``What are you doing working here when my son is overseas?''
       The tall, quiet 17-year-old took it to heart. He quit 
     school, to the consternation of his parents, and enlisted in 
     January 1943.
       ``I remember every bit of that day he went into the Army,'' 
     Debiase said. ``It was a terrible blizzard that day.''
       For the next several months, he wrote his family letters 
     from the European Theater, mostly general, mundane greetings. 
     Those letters would later prove helpful to Mancuso in 
     learning how he died.
       In August that same year, the waist gunner on a recently 
     formed B-17 Flying Fortress squadron went AWOL. Sorbo, by 
     then a staff sergeant, was assigned to take his place on a 
     bombing mission over a synthetic fuel plant in Germany.
       It was an extremely dangerous operation. B-17s were large, 
     obvious and difficult for their gunners to defend. That was 
     especially so for waist gunners, who endured sub-zero 
     temperatures and thin oxygen while shooting Axis fighter 
     planes through a very small window into a powerful airstream 
     that made it hard to lock onto a target.
       The plane was hit by a 20-mm shell that caught Sorbo in the 
     neck.
       The plane started to go down under continuous enemy fire. 
     The crew prepared to bail out. One tried desperately to get a 
     parachute onto Sorbo, who was already dying from his neck 
     wound.
       Then the plane exploded.
       Six airmen parachuted out, including one who said the blast 
     blew him out of the craft, and another who said he saw the 
     plane go down as he drifted into the Rhine.
       All six survivors were captured by the Nazis. Sorbo and 
     three others were killed, including the crewman who tried to 
     save him.
       Devino said she often thinks of that heroic airman.
       ``I thought of the family,'' she said. ``If he didn't stop 
     to try and get a parachute on Peter, he might have just been 
     a POW.''
       The family didn't know any of this for decades.
       After the plane was shot down, the military sent a letter 
     saying Sorbo was missing in action.
       ``All those years, we were hoping maybe he was a prisoner, 
     maybe he would get back,'' Debiase said. ``My mother never 
     stopped hoping.''
       It wasn't until the war was over that the government 
     acknowledged the plane and Sorbo's remains had been found, 
     and asked the family if it would like them to be returned for 
     burial.
       Debiase said her family doubted from the beginning that the 
     remains were his, but figured it was a service member who 
     needed burial anyway, so they accepted them.
       ``Who we got, I don't know, but we respect it as my 
     brother,'' Debiase said. ``We visit the cemetery and put the 
     flags on when they need to be put on.''
       Sorbo's loss devastated his family. His father was so 
     distraught that he walked off a 20-year job as a tool setter 
     at Chase Brass & Copper.
       ``He couldn't handle it,'' Devino said.
       The parents doted on and spoiled their remaining son. He 
     ended up drafted into the Korean War, returned an alcoholic, 
     and died young.
       Debiase and her husband, Michael, live in a lovely house 
     with a dining room table long enough to accommodate their 
     many family gatherings.
       Her brother Peter, she said, wanted to go into radio. He 
     was funny and kind and protective--all the things an eldest 
     brother should be to his siblings.
       ``We at least know what really happened,'' she said. ``We 
     never knew. I'm glad my parents never really knew.''
       Her memories of Peter, she said, she has ``stored away in 
     my heart'' since she was 9, the age she was when he died. 
     She's 79 now and Devino is 83.
       Debiase looked over at that dining room table, on this day 
     strewn with Sorbo's sepia-toned service photographs.
       ``Every holiday you sit down and say, `There should be 
     another chair,''' she said. ``But there isn't.''

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