Nearly 70 years later, World War II veteran from Wantagh gets his Purple Heart

It took only 18 years for Leonard Stern to find himself ensnared in World War II's surreal mayhem, where the trajectory of melting shrapnel often divided the living from the dead. It took nearly 70 years for Stern -- wounded by shrapnel that killed a foxhole mate -- to receive his Purple Heart.

Yesterday, with his children and grandchildren looking on, the Army veteran received the military award granted to troops injured during combat. Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand (D-N.Y.), who helped Stern's family document Stern's wounds, handed Stern the ribboned medallion during a gathering at American Legion Post 1273 in Wantagh.

"The guy who was with me, Jimmy, he didn't survive," said Stern, of Wantagh, who was evacuated from Belgium in February 1945 after an explosion sent flying metal into his left leg. "The shrapnel went right through his helmet."

Stern said he doesn't "like to talk about it because all these young boys died. I could have been one of them."

His war experience has much in common with those among the nearly 700,000 GIs injured during World War II who were never recognized for their combat wounds.

The Jackson Heights, Queens, native was barely 18 when drafted in 1944. He fought in Belgium during the Battle of the Bulge. Evacuated to a field hospital after shrapnel knocked him cold, Stern recuperated in England but never received the Purple Heart.

There are likely thousands of World War II veterans waiting for medals as they near the end of their lives, said Fred L. Borch, a military historian for the Army's Judge Advocate General Corps in Charlottesville, Virginia. Borch said although Purple Heart awardees typically received the medal during combat doctor visits, eligible recipients were often overlooked in World War II's chaos -- discharged before receiving the heart-shaped medallion bearing the profile of George Washington.

Borch said many World War II soldiers eligible for other awards -- including the Bronze Star and the Combat Infantryman's Badge -- also went unrecognized in the war's frenzied final months, as officers focused on caring for refugees or getting subordinates home safely.

"Particularly after World War II, most of them, their only interest was in taking off their uniform and getting on with their life," Borch said. It wasn't until later, he said, after a son or grandson asked about their combat experience, that the quest for the medals would often begin.

That was so with Stern. He came home in 1947, married family friend Judith Goldstein in 1954 and moved to Seaford in 1961. He found work with a meat wholesaler and tried to forget about the war.

"It's hard to shoot a child," Stern said, referring to German soldiers who were often younger than he. "They were 16, 17 years old."

In 2007, one of his children, David Stern, pursued his father's military record, most of which had been destroyed in 1973, during an archive fire in St. Louis. He appealed to Gillibrand's office, which asked Army officials for help. That turned up old Army hospital admissions records for Stern's unit. The case was solved.

"He broke down when I told him," said David Stern, who said he pressed harder when his father's health slipped a bit in September. "He didn't believe it was going to happen."

Leonard Stern said he was happy that his sacrifice had finally been acknowledged.

"I love this award," he said, cradling the gold-edged medallion. "It's like I've finished college with a PhD. "