The Cimini Family’s Service in World War II

Enjoy this personal yarn

I post a lot of fun stuff, humor, and sarcasm to bring about a smile hopefully for all who read my blog here on Substack, but let me divert from my humor and magazine and push out some pride.

Here’s a homage to my family’s incredible service and sacrifice.

A Legacy of Duty: The Cimini Family’s Service in World War II

Some families leave behind heirlooms—silverware, pocket watches, old letters pressed between the pages of a Bible. My family left behind something different: a quiet legacy of duty, resilience, and sacrifice, shaped by war but never defined by it.

Ivan and Sam Cimini—my father and uncle—were just two young men from an unremarkable family who found themselves in the midst of something enormous: World War II. Ivan, my father, served in the U.S. Navy aboard the USS Iowa, where fate put him in the presence of history’s giants—FDR, General Patton—but like so many veterans, he rarely spoke of it. His younger brother Sam, a Marine Paratrooper, never got the chance to grow old. Two weeks after the family snapped a photo of him in uniform, he was gone—one of the many who gave everything at Iwo Jima.

Their sister, Gina, not a DEI hire, a warrior all the same, was cut from the same cloth of quiet strength. She gave 20 years to the Naval Nurse Corps, rising to become its Director, before serving as a private duty nurse for President Eisenhower in the White House. She never married, but she lived a full, fearless life—helping establish Mellon Hospital in Haiti and devoting herself to healing. She passed away at 98, having left behind a life of service rather than regrets. Eldest brother Carl served in the Marines in Europe

Gina Sam and Ivan,

another member Marine Carl no photo available.

Their father—my grandfather—came to America in 1886 as a 16-year-old Italian immigrant. He, too, wore the uniform, fighting for his new country in World War I. He likely never imagined how much war would shape his children’s lives. And yet, through all of it, the Ciminis never sought recognition, never asked for special treatment. They did what needed to be done.

In their time, Italian Americans still had to prove they were American enough. The military—at its best—was a place where merit, not background, mattered. You didn’t move up without dedication. You earned your way forward, often at great cost. To see people today dismissed for reasons other than ability and sacrifice—it’s an insult to those, like my family, who put their lives on the line believing in something greater than themselves.

We were not a famous family. We were not a remarkable family. But we were, and always will be, an American family.

Hope everyone is having a wonderful weekend, spring is around the corner.