Rita Hynoski called her family to her bedside. The consequences of war had taken her husband more than three decades earlier. She knew her end was near.
The widow told her children and grandchildren that she loved them. She turned to her daughter, Deborah Hynoski Burnetti, and said she’d find a box under the bed and that she’d know what to do with its contents.
Rita held out her hands.
“I see you Skeet, I’m here,” she said, using the nickname she had given her late husband.
And then she was gone.
As the family mourned, Deborah found the box. Inside were nearly 300 letters, most in their original envelopes, that chronicled her parents’ love story — from friends, to sweethearts, to husband and wife.
The letters answered questions Deborah long had about her father, who died when she was 6. From the war zone, Joseph Hynoski chronicled his pain after contracting malaria — the effects which would haunt him the rest of his life.
The box provided context and insight to the family’s life in West Nanticoke, and the lasting effects from conflict that still linger to this day — from a pizza shop in Nanticoke to Deborah's home in North Carolina.
“You take one person that had to deal with the war … and everyone is affected all around them, and in our case it was for generations to come. War is something that should never ever be taken lightly,” said Deborah, who published a book this month about her family’s story, told through the letters written by her parents. “War changes everything.”
A chance meeting
Joseph Hynoski enlisted in the Army Air Corps in 1940, at the age of 18. His father, an immigrant from Poland, and his mother, whose family came from Germany, lived on Kane Street, now known as McDonald Street, in West Nanticoke.
As one of 12 children, Hynoski sought a way to “be his own man” and to support his family. Germany had invaded Poland shortly before he enlisted, but the United States wasn’t involved. Hynoski didn’t know things would soon change.
Rita Cuneo Zulauf grew up in Baltimore. As the U.S. prepared for war, a plant in Maryland ramped up production of airplanes. People from all over came to Baltimore for jobs, and her family offered them a place to stay. Those workers included three of Hynoski’s siblings.
While on leave, he visited his brothers and sister in Baltimore. He had the address where at least one of his brothers was staying. When he knocked on the door, he met Rita. They talked for hours and vowed to keep in touch.
In his first letter to her, dated Oct. 27, 1940, he reveals his feelings.
“I really think a lot of you Rita, I think you’re a swell girl … I might as well tell you that I love you Rita, honest I do.”
Each letter brought them closer, Deborah explains in the book.
“The war had indeed brought them together. And the war shaped, altered, crushed and remade their dreams again and again,” she writes. “What the war had brought together, it would also ultimately take away.”
Sick from malaria
Joe worked as a medic, earning himself the nickname “Doc.” He served alongside Australian troops in Shaggy Ridge, New Guinea in 1943, fighting the Japanese.
He suddenly started suffering from intense fevers that would make his eyes sore for days. When he thought he might be cured, the fevers would start again.
His letters explain he was in the hospital with malaria, but for her not to worry.
“You’re always on my mind and I’m thinking of the day when I’ll be able to hold you in my arms and really say you are mine and I am yours.”
The mosquito-borne illness was as much of a problem in the South Pacific as the Japanese, according to the Army Historical Foundation. The swampy environments on many Pacific islands served as ideal breeding grounds for mosquitoes.
Joe earned the rank of sergeant and in 1944 received an honorable medical discharge. He had returned from war, but the battle was far from over.
Family and tragedy
Joe and Rita said their vows Dec. 31, 1944. There would be more sickness than health.
They had their first baby, Joe Jr., in February 1946. They lived close to family family on McDonald Street and later welcomed three more children: Robert, Deborah and Donald.
Joe wanted to go to medical school to become a doctor, but his fevers, chronic asthma and bouts of pneumonia would get so bad that he’d sometimes be in the hospital for months. In 1954, he wrote to Rita from the hospital.
“I just feel terrible. I never felt like this before Sweetheart, I’m really sick. I can’t stand this much longer.”
With the father ill, the family struggled to live off $98 monthly veteran’s benefits, Joe Jr. recalls. He began working in a pizza shop at the age of 7, since his newspaper delivery route wasn’t enough.
Deborah remembers being carsick on weekly trips to the hospital to see their father. When he was home, it often wasn’t for long.
“My job was to bring him a glass of water,” Deborah said. “He’d feel better, and then it would happen again.”
In 1962, he went to the hospital before she went to school. He told he loved her and to take care of her younger brother, Donnie.
Joe died that night. He was 40 years old.
'Made me stronger'
Joe Jr. pulled a couple plain pies from a 450-degree oven last week. Neighbors walk to the shop at the corner of West Church and South Market streets in Nanticoke. Customers can smell the pizza from the sidewalk.
“He's a fixture in this town. Everybody knows Joe,” one customer said after picking up a hoagie.
After working for another pizza shop in town as a young child, Joe began working for Stuccio’s Pizza in 1963, the year after his dad died. He later took over the business, naming it Joe’s Pizza. He’s 80 now, and has more than seven decades in the business.
A customer orders a stromboli. He piles it high with meat and cheese and finishes the top with butter and garlic. Then he makes a mushroom and pepperoni pizza, layering the toppings and finishing it with another layer of cheese after a few minutes in the oven.
Stacks of pizza boxes sit on the counter, along with a copy of his younger sister’s book. Though he had 16 years with his father, the letters offered insight to the war that his father didn’t talk much about.
His sister credits him with becoming the “man of the house” after their father died. Joe Jr.’s childhood wasn’t easy — but one that shaped the rest of his life.
"It made me stronger in all my ways of life,” he said. “It's given me a lot more experience in dealing with things that are bad … it sounds crazy, but I think it's made it a lot less stressful for myself than it would have been other than not doing that.”
Finding answers
Deborah was 6 years old when her dad died. She never knew what made him happy or sad, or what he was like before the effects of war took that chance away.
The letters provided answers. He loved the color red and liked yellow roses. He played the harmonica and enjoyed listening to the rain. She also learned about her mother, who had died in 1995.
“I figured maybe this was her plan all along. She couldn't talk about it,” Deborah said. “It was a hard life, and she didn't want to deal with it, and that was her gift to me at the end.”
After her father died, Deborah kept the promise to look out for her younger brother. She did what she could around the house, too. One of her chores was to head to the culm dump behind her home and pick the loose coal and place it in a burlap bag. She learned how to tell the difference between coal and slate.
She focused on her education, earning a college degree with veterans benefits and money from working into the night with her brother at the pizza shop. She met her husband and wore her mother’s dress at their wedding, raised a son and had a career as an earth scientist while living outside Washington, D.C.
Her retirement to Durham, North Carolina, gave her more time to focus on the letters. She first put a manuscript together for family members, who encouraged her to write a book.
The 392-page book came out last week and is available on Amazon. She hopes it honors her family’s story and educates others about the realities of war.
“The ripple effect of war can be immense and carried through generations, and not everyone comes out of it better,” Deborah said. “This story of my family shows that it came with some sacrifice … my mom, as time went on, she had the hopes and dreams of what was going to happen, and then the reality of what actually did. With Memorial Day, every person, every name on every one of those memorials and monuments, there's a story there.”
"With All My Love, Doc: A Heartfelt Journey of Love, Valor, and Tragedy"
By Deborah Hynoski Burnetti and Sgt. Joseph Hynoski
Available on Amazon
