Tag: military records

  • The Road Back to Wilkesboro: How an Indiana Boy Found His Mother’s Homeland in the Civil War

    The Road Back to Wilkesboro: How an Indiana Boy Found His Mother’s Homeland in the Civil War

    If you look closely enough at an old family tree, you start to realize that history isn’t just a collection of random names and dates. It is a living blueprint. Sometimes, the choices made by people generations apart seem to follow strangely familiar roads.

    That is one of the things genealogy has taught me.

    We don’t always know why we’re drawn toward certain places, occupations, or ways of life. Sometimes we simply feel the pull. Then, years later, we open an old record and discover that someone generations before us walked a strangely familiar road.

    Over the last two weeks, I shared how a family road trip through France collided with my grandfather Joseph’s footsteps in the mud of the Meuse-Argonne Offensive. I wrote about the spine-chilling moment I realized that decades later, the military had sent me to Germany to wear the same 4th Cavalry crossed sabers that his brother, my great-granduncle George, had worn during his service along the Mexican border.

    But if we want to follow this family’s military story deeper into the past, we have to look beyond the trenches of World War I. We have to go back to a time before tanks, before gasoline pumps, and before the world had ever heard of a global war.

    The next trail leads to their uncle—my great-great-granduncle, Tilghman Andrew Howell—an eighteen-year-old kid from Indiana who marched into the smoke of the Civil War, only to find himself in his own mother’s homeland.

    And even Tilghman isn’t where this story begins. As the records will eventually show, the tradition reaches much farther back—through Howell men and through men who married into the Howell family.

    Born to the Blue Ridge Lineage

    Tilghman was born on August 7, 1845, in the familiar crossroads of Hartford City, Indiana. He was the second of eight children born to George Sumpter Howell and a woman whose maiden name rewrote our entire family geography: Amelia R. Rousseau.

    Growing up in East-Central Indiana, Tilghman was surrounded by his mother’s Rousseau family connections. Amelia’s roots reached back to Wilkes County, North Carolina, and those ties were far more than names on a family tree. Her father, David Rousseau, remained close to Amelia and eventually died in northern Indiana. The Rousseau family line didn’t belong only to the flat cornfields of the Midwest; its roots ran deep into the rugged Blue Ridge foothills of North Carolina.

    Those family ties would become even more significant later in Tilghman’s life. About twenty years after the Civil War carried him into North Carolina, he returned there and married his first cousin—the daughter of Amelia’s own sister.

    But first, there was a war.

    Tilghman was just a teenager when the Union fractured in 1861. For nearly three years, the Civil War raged while he grew from a fifteen-year-old boy into a young man.

    Then, on January 29, 1864, at just eighteen years old, he stepped forward. He signed his name, took the oath, and entered the Union Army as a Private in Company I, 130th Indiana Infantry.

    Tilghman A. Howell of Hartford City appears on the roster of Company I, 130th Indiana Infantry. The roster records January 29, 1864, and his muster out on December 10, 1865.

    Through the Fire of Georgia and Tennessee

    Private Tilghman Howell didn’t get the luxury of a slow introduction to soldiering. The 130th Indiana was mustered into federal service in March 1864 and soon joined the XXIII Corps of the Army of the Ohio as Sherman’s armies prepared to move south into Georgia.

    Tilghman spent his nineteenth birthday in the midst of the Atlanta Campaign.

    With Company I, he served through the fighting at Resaca, the operations around Kennesaw Mountain, and the long campaign around Atlanta. The 130th continued through the operations at Utoy Creek, Jonesboro, and Lovejoy’s Station before the Atlanta Campaign finally came to an end.

    When Atlanta fell, Tilghman’s unit eventually turned back north as Confederate General John Bell Hood carried the war into Tennessee.

    Throughout the bitter winter campaign of 1864, Tilghman served with the 130th at the massive clashes of Franklin and Nashville, followed by the pursuit of Hood’s defeated Army of Tennessee toward the Tennessee River.

    Through those campaigns, Tilghman remained with his company. He was never wounded, hospitalized, or detached from the unit. He had survived some of the hardest campaigning of the western war.

    But it was the final movement of the war that turned his military service into an unbelievable full circle.

    The Homeland Call

    In early 1865, the 130th Indiana was moved by boat and rail for one final campaign against the remaining Confederate resistance.

    Their orders sent them across the map, straight into North Carolina.

    For a nineteen-year-old Indiana kid, entering North Carolina meant that the war had carried him onto the native soil of his mother’s Rousseau family.

    Tilghman moved with the 130th through the North Carolina campaign, including the operations around Kinston and Goldsboro, before the regiment advanced on Raleigh in April.

    Then, on April 26, 1865, the campaign reached its conclusion at Bennett Place, where Confederate General Joseph E. Johnston surrendered his army to Union General William T. Sherman.

    Tilghman had entered the Army as an eighteen-year-old Indiana private.

    Now, at nineteen, he was standing in his mother’s home state as one of the last great Confederate armies surrendered.

    But the Army didn’t send him home immediately.

    The 130th remained in North Carolina after the fighting ended, performing occupation duty for the remainder of 1865. My archival research pulled up Tilghman’s official muster-out record: December 10, 1865.

    He had spent much of the final year of his military service in North Carolina.

    What that experience meant to Tilghman personally, no surviving military record can tell us.

    But genealogy sometimes gives us another way of seeing the story.

    The connection between Tilghman and North Carolina didn’t end when he took off the blue coat. About twenty years later, he returned. There, he married his first cousin—the daughter of Amelia’s sister—and ultimately made his home in Wilkesboro, North Carolina, on the ancestral ground of his mother’s Rousseau family.

    Marriage register for Tilghman Howell and Maggie Transou, 1 August 1893, Wilkes County, North Carolina.

    We cannot know exactly what pulled him back.

    We only know that he went.

    The Civil War had carried an Indiana boy into his mother’s homeland.

    Decades later, the road pulled him back.

    An Unbroken Creed

    Tilghman lived to be 85 years old, passing away in those North Carolina hills on November 17, 1930.

    Because of his long life, the generations overlapped in a remarkable way. While the aging Civil War veteran was living in North Carolina, his grandnephews George and Joseph had already written their own chapters of the family’s military history.

    The surviving records may never tell us how much they knew about one another’s military service.

    But genealogy lets us see something they may never have been able to see themselves.

    The pattern.

    Tilghman served during the Civil War. George and Joseph served in the generation that followed. My father later chose military service. I eventually put on the uniform myself. And today, one of those little boys who traveled through Europe with me has grown up to make that same choice, putting on the uniform to lead soldiers of his own.

    Different generations. Different wars. Different lives.

    But the thread keeps appearing.

    And as I work backward through the records, I keep discovering that Tilghman wasn’t the beginning either.

    The trail continues deeper into the family tree, through Howell men and through men who married Howell women—men whose service reaches into earlier American wars and, eventually, back to the Revolution.

    Maybe that is one of the greatest gifts genealogy gives us.

    We spend our lives making choices without always understanding why certain things appeal to us. We choose occupations. We move across the country. We wander. We serve. Sometimes we leave home, and sometimes, years later, the road pulls us back.

    I’ve seen that pattern in my own life.

    I’ve been drawn to things and only later discovered them buried in my family history. I’ve watched the Howells move from place to place across generations. Sometimes they stayed somewhere for years. Sometimes they put down deep roots. But sooner or later, somebody seemed to feel that pull of the road again.

    Genealogy doesn’t necessarily tell me why.

    It tells me that the pattern was already there.

    Tilghman’s 1864 military record gives us the raw facts of a Civil War private. The rest of his records reveal something larger: an Indiana boy went to war, survived some of the hardest campaigns of the western theater, followed the Army into his mother’s North Carolina homeland, and decades later returned there to build the rest of his life.

    Was that pull family connection? Memory? Circumstance? Something deeper? Or simply chance?

    The records cannot answer that.

    But after seeing the same kinds of patterns surface again and again in my own family, I have learned not to dismiss the pull simply because I cannot explain it.

    Sometimes genealogy doesn’t tell us why we chose the road.

    It shows us that someone in our family walked it before us.


    Historical Note: This story is part of a continuing series exploring the Howell family’s military legacy across generations. It is based on family records, military records, historical sources, and documented family research. Some narrative details are included to place those records within their historical setting. Where surviving records do not establish an exact location, event, or circumstance, the narrative should be understood as historical context rather than a statement of documented fact.

  • The Long Trail of the 4th Cavalry: How a Century-Old Legacy Met Me in Germany

    The Long Trail of the 4th Cavalry: How a Century-Old Legacy Met Me in Germany

    Every soldier knows that the military is built on a foundation of unspoken connections. We wear the patches of campaigns fought before we were born, and we walk the parade grounds where legends once stood. But sometimes, history doesn’t just echo—it pulls over to the side of the road, looks you right in the eye, and hands you a pair of crossed sabers.

    Last week, I shared how a family road trip through France collided with my grandfather Joseph’s footsteps in the mud of the Meuse-Argonne Offensive. That discovery showed how our family’s past and present were riding in the exact same car down a French highway in 2002. But as I kept digging deeper into the archives, the threads of our family tree stretched back even further, revealing a second, jaw-dropping intersection with the past.

    This is the story of Joseph’s brother—my great-granduncle, George Grover Howell—and a century-old cavalry legacy that my own archival research finally brought to light.

    The Heat of the Gas Boom

    Before I cracked open the records, the paper trail made George look like a standard turn-of-the-century Midwest tradesman. Around 1908, Hartford City, Indiana, was booming, driven by the discovery of natural gas. A 21-year-old George was earning his living as a glass worker, a grueling and dangerous trade spent around roaring pot furnaces.

    But George was looking for a different kind of intensity. On June 30, 1908, just shy of his 22nd birthday, he walked away from the factory floor and signed up for the United States Regular Army.

    He was assigned to the prestigious 4th Cavalry Regiment and sent north to Fort Snelling, Minnesota.

    And this is where one of those strange little details in genealogy helps tell the story.

    If you look up George in the 1910 U.S. Census, the government lists his status with the cold, technical term “inmate.” It’s a quirk that confuses modern researchers, but George wasn’t behind bars. He was a young cavalryman living in the barracks at Fort Snelling.

    George Grover Howell in the 1910 U.S. Census at Fort Snelling, Minnesota. The census classified soldiers living in the barracks as “inmates.”

    For me, that census entry transformed George from a name on the family tree into a soldier. He was living the life of a Regular Army cavalryman—years before the United States entered the First World War.

    Patrolling a Wild Frontier

    In the summer of 1911, George completed his first three-year hitch. Loving the soldier’s life, he chose to “re-up” immediately.

    His timing was historic.

    As the Mexican Revolution erupted into violence, the 4th Cavalry was ordered to the southwestern border. George went from Minnesota to the blistering, cactus-lined desert of the Rio Grande.

    This was the era of the “Old Army”—a frontier military still dependent on horses, pack animals, isolated posts, and cavalry patrols. George served along the Mexican border during a period when revolution and instability just across the international line had become a serious concern for the United States.

    By 1914, George was stationed at Fort Bliss in El Paso County. General John J. “Black Jack” Pershing arrived there in April 1914, placing two men whose military careers would take very different paths at the same post during the final months of George’s enlistment.

    When George was discharged from Fort Bliss in September 1914, he walked away a corporal and a veteran of six years in the Regular Army.

    George Grover Howell’s military record documenting the end of his six years with the Regular Army at Fort Bliss, Texas, in 1914.

    That document closes the first chapter of George’s military life.

    But only the first.

    The Replacement Mystery

    The mechanical skills George had developed over the years transitioned well into the rapidly changing industrial world. By 1917, he was working as a machinist for the Bowser Manufacturing Company in Fort Wayne, building early automotive gasoline pumps.

    When America entered World War I, local newspapers reported that George had joined his brother Joseph in the volunteer hometown Lafayette Battalion.

    But when I followed George into the military records, I found something different.

    George entered the Army again on March 5, 1918, and was assigned Army Serial Number 1159531.

    That number became one of the keys to following him.

    A surviving record puts George at Kelly Field, Texas, on March 6, 1918—only one day after entering service.

    George G. Howell’s 1918 military record, showing Army Serial Number 1159531 and his arrival at Kelly Field, Texas, in March 1918.

    That one record changed the direction of the story.

    George wasn’t going back to the cavalry.

    He was entering an entirely different Army.

    By July 31, another roster places George G. Howell, 1159531, with the 322nd Aero Squadron, Flying Department, at Kelly Field in South San Antonio, Texas.

    Then I found him again.

    The roster of the 322nd Aero Squadron at midnight on October 31, 1918, contains the same name and the same serial number.

    But this record gives us something else.

    George appears under the heading:

    SERGEANTS.

    There he was.

    Sergeant George G. Howell, 1159531.

    The October 31, 1918 roster of the 322nd Aero Squadron lists George G. Howell, Army Serial Number 1159531, among the unit’s sergeants.

    In only a few years, George had gone from horses to airplanes.

    His first military career belonged to the old horse cavalry. He had served with the 4th Cavalry along the Mexican border and finished that chapter at Fort Bliss.

    Now he was serving with an Aero Squadron at Kelly Field as the United States Army entered the age of military aviation.

    George had entered the Army in 1908 during the age of the cavalry horse.

    A decade later, he was a sergeant in an Army learning to fight in the sky.

    And his paper trail doesn’t end with the Armistice.

    On November 30, 1918—nineteen days after the fighting ended—George appears on another surviving roster. The name is the same. The serial number is the same: 1159531.

    This time he appears with Candidate Company G, 2nd Battalion, C.I.O.T.S.

    For now, that is where the surviving records leave him. They establish that George’s World War I service continued beyond the Armistice, even though we have not yet reconstructed every remaining step of that service.

    While his younger brother Joseph fought with the 150th Field Artillery in France, George served stateside as the United States Army transformed around him.

    Two brothers had answered the same call.

    The Army simply sent them down very different roads.

    The Timeline Folds Again

    And that is where the timeline folds completely in on itself, bridging nearly a century of time.

    In early 2002, fresh out of basic training, I was shipped across the Atlantic to Schweinfurt, Germany, stationed at Conn Barracks.

    My assignment?

    Charlie Troop, 1/4 Cavalry, 1st Infantry Division.

    When I pinned on that unit patch and looked at those crossed sabers, I had absolutely no idea that I was stepping directly into my great-granduncle George’s military lineage.

    Nearly a century after George enlisted in the 4th Cavalry, I was serving in that same historic regiment, carrying the same cavalry lineage into a completely different Army and a completely different century.

    But our mounts looked a little different.

    Unlike George, who knew the cavalry from the back of a flesh-and-blood horse, an M1A1 Abrams tank was my steed. I was riding a beast made of steel, its turbine engine roaring, carrying the cavalry tradition into a high-tech century.

    George had watched the Army change from horses to airplanes.

    Nearly a century later, I was watching the cavalry tradition continue from inside seventy tons of American armor.

    From horses to airplanes in George’s generation. From horses to an M1A1 Abrams in mine.

    And the strangest part is that I didn’t know any of this at the time.

    George had been dead for decades. His cavalry service existed in old records, census entries, military rosters, and pieces of family history waiting to be put back together.

    I wore those crossed sabers without knowing that another Howell had served in the 4th Cavalry before me.

    It took genealogy to bring us together.

    Me with the 1st Squadron, 4th U.S. Cavalry at Conn Barracks, Schweinfurt, Germany, in 2002. Nearly a century earlier, my great-granduncle George G. Howell had served in the 4th Cavalry.

    The Tradition Continues

    But the legacy doesn’t stop with George and me.

    George and Joseph chose to serve their country when the world was on fire, establishing a tradition of military service that continued through our family.

    Joseph’s son—my father—would eventually answer that call himself.

    Years later, I put on the uniform.

    And today, one of those little boys who held my hand near the concrete pillboxes in Belgium has grown up to make that same choice, putting on the uniform to lead soldiers on the front lines today.

    Just how many generations of our family have answered this call?

    It is a tradition that reaches back through centuries of our family history—a recurring thread of men who, in very different times and circumstances, chose to serve their country.

    George’s surviving records rescued his military story from obscurity. And discovering that nearly a century later I had served in the same historic cavalry regiment revealed something I never knew while wearing those crossed sabers: military service has surfaced again and again throughout our family tree—from the cavalry trails of Fort Bliss, through the battlefields of France, and into the generations serving today.

    But George and Joseph weren’t the beginning of this story.

    Their uncle, Tilghman Andrew Howell, had answered the call decades earlier, marching with Company I, 130th Indiana Infantry, during the Civil War.

    But Uncle Tilghman’s story… well, that’s a masterclass for a different time.


    Historical Note: This story is part of a continuing series exploring the Howell family’s military legacy across generations. It is based on family records, military records, historical sources, and documented family research. Some narrative details are included to place those records within their historical setting. Where surviving records do not establish an exact location, event, or circumstance, the narrative should be understood as historical context rather than a statement of documented fact.

  • The Roadside Ghosts of the A4: The Day My Family’s Past and Future Collided

    The Roadside Ghosts of the A4: The Day My Family’s Past and Future Collided

    Every soldier knows that the military is built on a foundation of unspoken connections. We wear the patches of campaigns fought before we were born, and we walk the parade grounds where legends once stood. But sometimes, history doesn’t just echo—it pulls over to the side of the road and stares you right in the face.

    The only reason I am writing this today is because of a story my wife, Stephanie, recently wrote. She spent countless hours digging through old genealogy records and parsing through World War I military morning reports, meticulously tracing my grandfather’s travels through France. Because of her research, the invisible threads of our family tree suddenly became a map.

    In 2002, I was stationed at Conn Barracks in Schweinfurt, Germany. I was serving in C Troop, 1/4 Cavalry, 1st Infantry Division. Like any young dad with a bit of leave, I loaded up the family car for a European road trip. Stephanie, our 1-year-old daughter, my 6-year-old son, Robert, and my 4-year-old son, Jonathan, all piled in.

    Stephanie with our children during our family trip to Berlin in 2002.

    Our destination was Normandy. As a veteran, I was intent on experiencing the D-Day beaches, wanting to stand where the Greatest Generation cracked Hitler’s Atlantic Wall in 1944. We drove out of Germany, passed through Luxembourg City, and headed up into Belgium. Along the way, I spotted a cluster of old, concrete wartime pillboxes sitting silently near the tree line.

    Captivated by the history, I pulled the car over. Stephanie stayed back with our baby girl while I took both of my young boys, Robert and Jon, by the hand. We walked right out to those cold, moss-covered fortifications, exploring the old firing slits and touching the concrete together. I didn’t know the exact history of those specific bunkers at the time; I just wanted my boys to see a piece of the world their country had fought to free.

    Joseph Howell with his three children during a family visit to Berlin in 2002.

    After a few minutes, we saddled back up and continued our journey to the coast.

    The trip was incredible, but it was the drive back to Schweinfurt that secretly held the real magic.

    Leaving Paris, we took the A4 highway, the Autoroute de l’Est, heading eastbound back toward Germany. It was a peaceful, scenic drive. My family was safe, free, and buckled into the back seat. I was just focused on the road, completely unaware of the geography passing outside my window.

    I didn’t know it then. I wouldn’t find out until Stephanie cracked open the archives this year.

    As our tires rolled down the A4, we were traveling through the Argonne region. We passed Sainte-Menehould and continued toward Verdun, through countryside intimately connected with the battlefields of the First World War. Somewhere north of our route lay the ground over which American soldiers had fought against the heavily fortified German defensive system known as the Kriemhilde Stellung.

    And that is where the timeline folds in on itself.

    Map of the Meuse-Argonne Offensive showing the American advance through northeastern France in 1918. Library of Congress.

    In October 1918, my grandfather—and my exact namesake—Joseph Robert Howell was serving in that campaign. He was an artilleryman with the 150th Field Artillery, part of the 42nd “Rainbow” Division, as American forces fought to break through the German defenses during the Meuse-Argonne Offensive.

    During that fighting, the 42nd Division moved into the line and relieved a battered division that had suffered heavily while fighting across those ridges.

    That unit was the 1st Infantry Division.

    Guns and horses of the 150th Field Artillery, 42nd “Rainbow” Division, waiting to move toward the front in France during World War I. Library of Congress.

    The Big Red One.

    My unit.

    During the final weeks of the war, my grandfather was severely wounded. He survived those wounds, came home, and passed his name down to me.

    Decades later, the Army sent me across the Atlantic to serve in the exact division his division had relieved, proudly walking in the lineage of the 4th U.S. Cavalry—the very regiment his brother George had served in back in 1911.

    But that is a story for another time, a masterclass in connecting the dots in genealogy.

    Driving down that highway in 2002, I missed the chance to consciously connect with him. I didn’t pull over. I didn’t know to look out the window and whisper a thank you. Realizing now just how close I had unknowingly come to the battlefield where he fought, I’ll admit it brings chills to my arms and tears to my eyes.

    But I didn’t miss the connection.

    Not really.

    Because Joseph Robert Howell was in the mud of France in 1918, enduring the artillery, gas, and misery of one of the final campaigns of the First World War, so that eighty-four years later, his grandson could drive his own children through those same valleys in absolute peace.

    And the ultimate victory? The proof that the warrior gene never left our bloodline?

    Years after that roadside stop, that same legacy of military service would quietly wake up in the next generation. One of those small boys who stood with me at those old concrete bunkers would grow up to put on the uniform himself, stepping forward to lead soldiers on the front lines today. The tradition endures, carrying the family’s quiet dedication to duty forward into a third century.

    We didn’t know it in 2002, but as we drove down the A4, the past, the present, and the future of our family were all riding in the exact same car.


    Historical Note: This story is part of a continuing series exploring the Howell family’s military legacy across generations. It is based on family records, military records, historical sources, and documented family research. Some narrative details are included to place those records within their historical setting. Where surviving records do not establish an exact location, event, or circumstance, the narrative should be understood as historical context rather than a statement of documented fact.

  • Ordering Military Records

    What My Father’s File Taught Me

    Robert Gordon Howell during his U.S. Army service.

    Many of us know a parent, grandparent, or another relative served in the military, but beyond that, we may know very little about what happened while they were in service. Family stories are a great place to start, but official military records may confirm what you’ve heard—or they might set the story straight and reveal secrets your veteran didn’t ever talk about.

    That has certainly been true as I’ve delved deeper into records concerning my father, Robert Gordon Howell.

    I knew my dad was in the Army. I heard stories about WWII, Burma, and maybe serving again during the Korean War. But my dad was not a guy who freely shared his experiences. After he passed away several years ago, I was filled with questions I would never have the chance to ask.

    Requesting his military records was one of the best steps I took in learning who he was before he became my father.

    What Records Can Tell You

    An Official Military Personnel File, commonly referred to as an OMPF, can contain enlistment information, duty assignments, promotions, training, awards, evaluations, separation documents, and much more. Administrative records are included as well. The contents of an individual military record can vary widely based on the veteran, branch of service, when they served, and, of course, which records still exist.

    My father’s records held much more than dates and locations of his service. They introduced me to a side of his military career I was not expecting and prompted additional questions about his assignments, disciplinary issues, medical history, and the circumstances of his final discharge.

    I thought I was just ordering a box of paperwork. Instead, I was about to learn more about my father than I knew before.

    How to Request Those Records

    If you are a veteran or the next of kin to a veteran, you can request military personnel records from the National Archives. Generally, the next of kin is limited to an unmarried spouse, parent, child, sibling, or other direct relative. Requests can be submitted online via the National Archives’ eVetRecs system or by mail or fax using Standard Form 180.

    Before starting your request, compile as much information as you can.

    • Veteran’s full name (surname, prefix, and first name) as it was used during service
    • Branch of Service
    • Social Security number or service number
    • Approximate dates of service
    • Date and place of birth
    • Name of last unit, place of discharge, or place entered, when known

    The more information you can provide, the easier it will be for the National Personnel Records Center to locate the correct file. A next-of-kin request for a deceased veteran may also require you to include proof of the veteran’s death. Acceptable documentation includes a copy of the death certificate, obituary, or funeral-home proof of death.

    Files Destroyed in the 1973 Fire

    This tip is a must for military researchers. In 1973, a fire broke out in the National Personnel Records Center in St. Louis. Depending on the branch of service, approximately 16–18 million personnel files were lost in the fire. Records from the Army were hit especially hard, with an estimated 80 percent of Army personnel files destroyed for veterans who were discharged between November 1, 1912, and January 1, 1960.

    My father falls into that window of service dates. Even though military officials said his file was “fire-related,” that didn’t mean there were no records remaining. While searching for his file, I was warned the National Archives may not have everything, but they can often reconstruct parts of a veteran’s military service using alternative records.

    Don’t forget there may be other records that existed outside of the personnel file. Look for:

    • Unit histories
    • Hospital records
    • Military court-martial records
    • Department of Veterans Affairs records
    • Morning reports
    • Newspaper accounts

    Get Started on That Request

    Don’t go into your request expecting your military records will have the answers to all your questions. My father’s file answered some questions but also led me to ask many more. That is par for the course when doing genealogy research.

    Requesting my father’s file did open a new chapter in his life for me. Family stories only told me so much. After I received his records, I was able to begin learning about the young man who lived an incredible life before I was born.

    Military records aren’t just pieces of government-generated paperwork. They could be all that’s left of your veteran’s story.


    Sources

    National Archives. Request Military Service Records.
    https://www.archives.gov/veterans/military-service-records

    National Archives. Standard Form 180 (SF-180): Request Pertaining to Military Records.
    https://www.archives.gov/veterans/military-service-records/standard-form-180

    National Archives. The 1973 Fire, National Personnel Records Center.
    https://www.archives.gov/personnel-records-center/fire-1973