My Father, Tony

I am very proud of my father, who had the distinction of being one of the first U.S. Army Rangers. Darby’s Rangers hold a unique place in military history as an elite unit renowned for their exceptional skills and unwavering courage.

The Rangers

At the height of World War II, an extraordinary group of soldiers emerged known as Darby’s Rangers. Led by Lieutenant Colonel William O. Darby, this unit was unlike any other, characterized by their unparalleled determination and remarkable combat abilities.

Darby’s Rangers underwent rigorous training with the British Army Commandos in Scotland to hone their skills and prepare for the challenges that lay ahead. From mastering advanced combat techniques to developing exceptional marksmanship and survival skills, these soldiers exemplified the highest standards of military training. A 1958 movie, “Darby’s Rangers” starring James Garner, as LTC Darby depicted a brief history of the unit.

Throughout their distinguished service, Darby’s Rangers engaged in numerous combat missions that showcased their extraordinary capabilities. Notable missions, such as the assault on Cisterna during the Italian Campaign and the crucial role they played in the invasion of Anzio, demonstrated their prowess and tenacity in the face of adversity. Anzio was a brutal battle with many American casualties. My father said he was there after the beachhead had been established and not during the initial bloody invasion.

The legacy of the Rangers paved the way for the establishment of the modern U.S. Army Rangers, who continue to uphold the same values and traditions that defined Darby’s original unit. The legacy of Darby’s Rangers will forever remain a testament to the power of determination and courage.

My father attended Ranger Reunions every two years, often with my mother. The conventions were held around the country and were the highlight of Dad’s summer. Every two years, he would grow out his mustache as it was when he was with the unit. I remember taking a road trip to Milwaukee, WI sometime during the 1960s. We even toured a brewery (I was underage at the time). I also recall my mom and dad going to Des Moines, IA, Dallas, TX, and Washington, DC for Ranger reunions.

During the reunion, my dad would sit in the hotel lobby where the event took place and watch his old friends walk in the door. As the years went on, more men became aware of the reunions and attended whenever possible. In fact, for the last 20-30 years of his life, Dad wore a black beret with a Ranger patch, proudly advertising his association with the battalion. I don’t know how many men he recruited to attend the next biennial reunion, but I’m sure even one would have been plenty. My dad especially loved reconnecting with friends who he thought had been casualties at the reunion. It brought him great joy to see those old comrades again.

I have Dad’s black beret, his stiletto, and a book titled “Darby’s Rangers” by James Altieri. The book was published in 1945 and chronicles William O. Darby, the formation of the unit, its training, and operations during WWII. My dad is pictured once in the book and listed on the roster of the Ranger Force Headquarters. I remember this book has a cardboard cover, but my father had it proudly leather-bound.

Within the covers of this magazine-formatted book were some of my dad’s cherished Ranger mementos: old newspapers and clippings, his discharge papers, a Special Official Pass (to travel to Naples, and any other “off limit” areas), a color photograph of my dad and other members of the Northeast Chapter of the Ranger Battalion Association, a telephone roster of Northeast Chapter members, and an invitation from Warner Brothers Pictures to a “special screening” of “Darby’s Rangers” in New York City.

The Rangers were a significant part of my dad’s life.

Recently, while reading his discharge papers, I came across things I knew, forgot, and never knew. After U.S. Army Basic Training, Dad served 30 months as a Sergeant in the 1st and 4th Ranger Battalions in Africa, Sicily, and Italy. He was overseas for almost 16 months. He was awarded the Combat Infantry Badge, a Distinguished Unit Badge, with an Oak Leaf Cluster, a European – African – Middle Eastern Service Medal, and a Good Conduct Medal. His last 10 months of service were as a Private First-Class, Military Policeman. He was honorably discharged after 3 years, 8 months, and 11 days from Fort Monmouth, N.J.

Working With Dad

I might have been 10 years old when I first went to work with him. We left our apartment in The Bronx, and walked to the newsstand, where he tossed a nickel and grabbed a New York Daily News. Then we went to the diner on Fordham Road for a fried egg sandwich on a hard roll. My eggs were scrambled. Afterward, we waited for his boss to pick us up for the hour’s drive north to Westchester County.

We didn’t have a car at the time. However, I remember he drove a panel truck for work and brought it home one weekend. He received a ticket because he parked the commercial vehicle on the street outside our apartment. So hitching a ride with his boss was how Dad commuted to work for many years until he purchased a green 1957 Pontiac Chieftain.

While he was employed in Westchester, he worked for a dry cleaner. He was proficient in all the tasks at the shop: taking clothes at the front counter (the only area where I was helpful), cleaning the clothes in the toxic solution at the time, removing spots if necessary, and pressing the clothes. However, Dad spent approximately half of his day preparing orders for delivery, which included bagging the orders in a plastic bag and loading the panel van, and delivering them,

From the first time I accompanied him to work, he imparted to me the importance of organization. You could say this is where the seeds were planted for my career in small package delivery. I learned the art of organizing the pre-work so that the actual tasks would proceed more smoothly. Additionally, I gained knowledge about the sequential loading of the truck and arranging the customer’s stops in the most efficient order to minimize time and distance. Dad excelled in customer service. He knew the preferred delivery locations for customers who were not home, such as the front door, back door, garage, breezeway, and so on.

Dad taught me the value of quality. Whether it was assisting Uncle Teddy in building my grandparents’ house in Hopatcong, NJ, or playing cards with my uncles, he consistently demonstrated the proper way to accomplish tasks. This laid the foundation for my future career as an Industrial Engineer. It is often said that women build relationships face-to-face, while men build relationships shoulder-to-shoulder. In my case, I understand the truth in this statement. My most cherished memories of my Dad are working alongside him. Two particular instances come to mind: breaking up a 300-square-foot concrete patio in Hopatcong and laying a vinyl tile kitchen floor in their Yonkers home.

Our Name

Another significant lesson I learned from my father was how to spell our last name. He always said, “It’s D-I capital S.” I didn’t realize until many years later that my father had a unique spelling. His family was large, consisting of six sisters and two brothers. I’m unsure how my aunts spelled their maiden names, but my uncles Angelo and Ralph, along with all their children, spell their names as “DeSantis.” D-E! Where did that come from? I never asked Angelo or Ralph. D-E is very common, whereas D-I is not. When we acquired our first telephone in 1961, The Bronx phone book contained pages and pages of DeSantis listings and only one DiSantis entry, which was my Mom and Dad.

But why D-E? I have some clues. It seems to have originated from a clerical error in my grandfather’s U.S. Naturalization papers. The typewritten document stated “Pietro Santis,” and the “De” was handwritten above and between the first and last name. However, my grandfather signed the paper as D-I. Additionally, I possess a copy of an Ellis Island manifest that my grandfather signed as DiSantis when he entered the country. I also have a photograph of him standing in front of his grocery store with his name, “Pietro DiSantis,” in gold letters, above his head, on the plate glass window. (As soon as I find that picture, I will post it.)

DiSantis or Di Santis? No space or space. That is a recent issue propagated by technology. Some apps and systems will not allow a capital “D”, a small “I” and a capital “S”, with no space between the “I” and the “S”. The resulting output is Disantis, with no capital “S”, which is incorrect. Therefore the only way to spell our name correctly would be to add the space.