Summit Vista resident Susan Perko never met her dad. He wasn’t there for daddy-daughter dances; he didn’t walk her down the aisle; he never fawned over or spoiled her two children – his grandkids.

Susan Perko created this painting, symbolizing the loss she’s felt her whole life for never getting to meet or know her dad. (Carl Fauver/City Journals)

 William Henry Roodenburg wasn’t around for any of it after a German bullet claimed his life in Tunisia, North Africa, in January 1943. Susan – the only child he would ever have – was 18 months old.

While Perko has no memories of her father, she very vividly recalls a childhood filled with humiliation and heartbreak because dad wasn’t around.

“I learned at a very young age not to talk about it,” Perko said. “Kids that age could be so mean. To talk about having no father would be like saying ‘I have leprosy.’ It was a shameful secret shared by many war orphans. Without a man, we became very resourceful, self-reliant and independent. My mother had to create a life very different from the one she had hoped for. In my mind, I had no father – until I turned 50.”

The GI bill did eventually cover one-third of Perko’s college education.

It would take more than a half-century to fully learn she was not alone. In fact, Perko wasn’t yet aware how many World War II orphans there once were, until after she, her husband and their two kids traveled to North Africa for her one and only visit to her father’s grave, on the 50th anniversary of his death, in 1993.  

“I kind of had to drag my husband and college-age kids on the trip,” she explained. “I was in a small grief support group at the time, and felt the trip was very important for my personal growth. Many families had their deceased loved ones returned to the states for burial. But my mother didn’t want that. She wanted distance from that terrible time. So, I felt I needed to go – and I’m glad I did. But I doubt I’ll ever return.”

Perko’s 1993 trip to Africa came only two years after the American WWII Orphans Network was created by Founder Ann Bennett Mix. Walt Linne, of Indianapolis, was among the group’s thirteen “First Founders” who helped raise the organization to a national level. A war Veteran himself (Vietnam), Linne lost his father to WWII in March 1945, when he was 2 ½ years old.

 “The first time I ever met a World War II orphan, other than my younger brother, was at a ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery,” Linne said. “While at that ceremony, meeting other war orphans, I decided to become involved with AWON. A group of us became the “First Founders.” While researching VA records, we discovered there were 183,000 World War II orphans. But, in a nutshell, we are now fading away, just like our dads did. Our ultimate goal is to hand AWON off to our grandchildren – or possibly merge our organization with Korea, Vietnam and Gulf War orphans.” 

After Perko learned of AWON, she quickly became active in the group, attending a number of their national conventions from Missouri to California. 

“By far my most memorable AWON conference was in St. Louis, when we were led on a tour of some World War II archives that had recently been damaged by fire,” Perko said. “I was handed a singed piece of paper. It still had that burnt smell. It was a military morning report. I found my dad’s name written on it. I’ll never forget that.”

Until just last year, Perko lived in Westchester County, New York, barely north of the five NYC boroughs. She moved cross country – to Summit Vista, in Taylorsville – to be closer to her son and grandson. Her only other child, a daughter, lives in California.

“One of my top priorities after moving here to Utah was to try to connect with any other AWON members living here,” Perko said. “I contacted Walt Linne and eventually got phone numbers for Bonnie Johnson in Murray and Judy Jantz in St. George. Connecting with them was wonderful; and they both seemed excited to receive my call. I had actually met Bonnie’s sister Penny years ago, back in New York.”

American World War II Orphans Network members Bonnie Johnson and Judith Jantz have their own stories to tell about growing up father-less.

Bonnie Johnson, Murray

Bonnie Johnson, of Murray, has hundreds of letters her father wrote to her mother during WWII – but no memory of her dad to accompany them. (Photo courtesy Bonnie Johnson)

 “I was born July 1941 in Indiana and my father, Thomas Victor Dale was killed in February 1945 on Iwo Jima,” Johnson begins her story. “I have no memories of him. My mom and I – and my older brother Danny and younger sister Penny – moved to Utah in 1947. Mom met a man here and remarried. I graduated from West High School in 1959. Now I have 10 children, 59 grandkids and 79 great grandchildren. We used to have huge holiday parties; but now they’ve moved all over the country.”

Johnson’s sister Penny, who lives in North Carolina, told her big sister about AWON.

“I joined AWON about five years ago, primarily so I could receive their quarterly newsletter (‘The Star’),” she continued. “I helped Penny write an article about our dad that appeared on the front page (Winter 2023, Issue #107). Mom had Dad interred at the Salt Lake City Cemetery in 1948. When she passed, in 2015, she was buried there also. My husband and I go up there all the time to decorate their graves.”

When Johnson was caring for her mother before her passing, she came across a trunk full of family treasures she never knew Mom had been quietly saving for more than 70 years.

“I found 221 letters my dad had written to us – including two, specifically to me – that had never been opened,” Johnson said. “I read them all so quickly – probably in two days. I’ve missed my father all my life. Even now, when I see a father and daughter together, I always think ‘What I wouldn’t give to have a dad.’ He’s my hero.”

Judy Jantz, St. George  

Judy Jantz, of St. George (in the back seat of this vintage Jeep), joined an AWON group tour to the Netherlands American Cemetery on Memorial Day, 21 years ago. (Photo courtesy Judy Jantz)

 “I was born June 1941 in Kansas and my father, Arlo Jacob Goebel was killed in battle, in Hurtgen Forest in Germany, in November 1944,” Jantz begins. “My mother had him interred in the Moundridge, Kansas cemetery in about 1948. I lived in Kansas until age 25; and I still get back there every year to visit the family graves.”

Before being returned to the states, Goebel’s remains had been interred at the Netherlands American Cemetery outside of Margraten, a city the Allied forces liberated from the Nazis. On Memorial Day 2005, Jantz and her sister joined an AWON tour and ceremony at the cemetery.

“It was the 60th anniversary of their liberation,” Jantz said. “The people there are so grateful for what the United States did for them in the war. Community members care for the graves, decorating them with flowers, after all these years. AWON has been such a wonderful organization to help my sister and me to learn more about our dad.”

Jantz’ two-years-older sister Rozanna still lives in Kansas. The girls’ mother remarried, but had no more children. 

“I have lived in this St. George retirement community since 2005,” Jantz said. “I married a Kansas farm boy and we were together 62 years, until he died in 2021. I have two daughters, five grandkids and 11 great grandchildren.”

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At last word, Perko was working to schedule a lunch with Johnson in the Salt Lake Valley, and possibly a road trip down south to meet Jantz – and perhaps take in Zion National Park.

She’s also not convinced there are only three World War II orphans in all of Utah. Perko believes there are others who have not yet heard of the American WWII Orphans Network. If you are among them – or know someone who is – their web address is an easy one to remember: HYPERLINK "http://www.awon.org"awon.org.