DOB/DOD: June 10, 1918 (Waterbury, CT) – June 22, 2009 (Norwalk, CT); 91 years old
MARITAL STATUS: Married Norma Mary Devine (1919-2014) on May 25, 1940, in Norwalk, CT
CHILDREN: One son, Arthur Jr. (1943-). Three daughters, Deborah M. Maestro Ford (1949-), Janice Maestro Toetenel (1952-), and Sharon Maestro Hazzard-Cyr (1956-).
LOCAL ADDRESS: 54 Fairfield Avenue and 227 Ely Avenue, South Norwalk
ENLISTMENT: January 3, 1944
SERVICE NUMBER: 31409165
DISCHARGE: March 16, 1946
MILITARY OCCUPATIONAL SPECIALTY: 604; Light Machine Gunner
UNIT: 3rd Battalion, 42nd Infantry Regiment, 106th Infantry Division
FAMILY: Born to Giuseppe “Joseph” (1879-1952) and Mariannina Canfora Maestro (1879-1956). Four sisters, Angelina Maestro SantaLucia (1904-1989), Antoinette Maestro Pimbell (1914-1979), Clara Maestro Mineo (1916-2010), and Edith Maestro Pepe (1922-1994). Three brothers, Pasquale (1909-1986), Edward M. (1912-1988), and Sylvio J. (1920-1992).
CIRCUMSTANCES: Held in German POW camp Stalag 11B Fallingbostel Prussia (Work Camps) 53-09. From his daughter, Deborah Ford, “the group he was with were liberated by a British patrol on May 2, 1945.” The war in Europe ended six days later.
DECORATIONS: Recipient of the Purple Heart Medal. Enrolled in the Purple Heart Museum’s Roll of Honor HERE. Also received the Good Conduct Medal, WWII Victory Medal, European-African-Middle Eastern Theater Campaign Ribbon, and the American Theater Campaign Ribbon.
From The Norwalk Hour December 14, 1944
Private Arthur Maestro, son of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Maestro of 227 Ely Avenue, has arrived in France, according to word received by his wife, who was formerly Miss Norma Devine. Private Maestro went into the service on January 24 of this year, receiving his basic training with the Infantry at Camp Wheeler, Georgia; he also trained at Fort George Meade, Maryland, and Camp Atterbury, Indiana, before he went overseas in October. Prior to his induction, Private Maestro was with the Segal Lock Company. Mrs. Maestro and their 16-month-old son, Arthur Junior, are residing with the former’s mother at 6 Hanford Place for the duration.
From the Norwalk Hour January 20, 1945
Word was recently received that Private First Class Arthur Maestro, husband of Mrs. Norma Devine Maestro, 2 Hanford Place, and son of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Maestro, 227 Ely Avenue, is missing in action in Germany. According to the telegram received from the War Department, he was missing as of December 21. He is with the 106th Infantry, Third Army, which saw heavy action. Private First Class Maestro was prominently known in athletics in this city.
From The Norwalk Hour March 1, 1945
FILM REVEALS SOLDIER’S FATE
A Prisoner, Family Here Learns Seeing Picture At Palace Theatre
On January 11, Mrs. Norma Maestro of 2 Hanford Place received a telegram from the War Department that her husband, Private First Class Arthur Maestro, had been reported missing in action in Germany since December 21. Imagine her surprise and joyfulness when on Sunday she, accompanied by the soldier’s sister and parents, saw her husband on the Palace Theater screen in the Red Cross film “Seeing Them Through” as a prisoner of war. It is generally known that the next of kin isn’t notified that their relative is a prisoner for approximately four months. Mrs. Maestro identified herself to Murray Howard, manager of the Palace, who took her to the projection room and gave her the part of the film that shows her husband. This makes the second time a local soldier has been recognized in a film at the Palace Theater. The first time was last April when Mrs. Jack Metelits recognized her son, Lieutenant Leonard Metelits, United States Marine Corps, in a technicolor documentary showing a Marine task force making a landing on an island in the Pacific. Private First Class Maestro, who is a son of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Maestro of 227 Ely Avenue, went into the service on January 24, 1944, training with the infantry at Camp Wheeler, Georgia. He was also stationed at Fort George Meade, Maryland, and Camp Atterbury, Indiana, before he was sent overseas in October. Before he went into the service, he was with the Segal Lock Company.
From The Norwalk Hour April 24, 1945
Private First Class Arthur Maestro was recognized by his wife, Mrs. Norma Devine Maestro of 2 Hanford Place, as a prisoner of war in Germany when she saw a Red Cross newsreel at a local theater on February 28, although she had on January 11 received a War Department notice telling that he was missing in action, is listed as a prisoner of war in the Official OWI report released this week. Private First Class Maestro, son of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Maestro of 227 Ely Avenue, went into the service on January 24, 1944. In civilian life, he was with the Segal Lock Company.
From The Norwalk Hour June 23, 2009
Arthur Patrick Maestro, age 91, of Norwalk, passed away on Monday, June 22, 2009, at his home. Art was born in Waterbury on June 10, 1918, the son of Joseph and Marianna (Canfora) Maestro. Art had served in World War II as a machine gunner and received a Purple Heart. A lifelong resident of Norwalk, Art was the co-owner of the Broad River General Store from 1959 until his retirement in 1979. He was a lifetime member of the Sons of Italy, where he loved to play cards and volunteered his time for various functions. He also enjoyed watching all sports and spending time with family and friends. Art is survived by his beloved wife of 69 years, Norma (Devine) Maestro, and his four loving children; Arthur Paul Maestro of Danbury, Deborah Ford of Cortland, NY, Janice Toetenel and Sharon Hazzard-Cyr, both of Norwalk; five grandchildren, Sherry Maestro, Jason Bouton, Tracy Ortiz, Jolie Boccanfuso and Matthew Hazzard, five great-grandchildren. Predeceased by 6 siblings, he is also survived by a sister, Clara Mineo, as well as many nieces and nephews. Art will be greatly missed by all who knew and loved him. Friends may call at the Magner Funeral Home, 12 Mott Avenue, Norwalk on Wednesday from 5 to 8 p.m. A Mass of Christian Burial will be held on Thursday, June 25 at 10 am at St. Matthew Church, 216 Scribner Avenue, Norwalk, followed by burial with military services at St. John Cemetery, Norwalk. Memorial donations may be directed to a charity of one’s choice.
My Life Overseas by Arthur Maestro
My life overseas
I left the States on October 17 [1944] on the Queen Mary and landed in Glasgow, Scotland, on October 23. We went to Cheltenham, England, by train and truck. We arrived there on October 27. My stay in England was but a short time, just 6 weeks. I was stationed at Cheltenham Racetrack. I felt like a horse after my first week of living in their stables. It got so that the first thing in the morning, I would say, “HEE HAW” instead of “GOOD MORNING.” It rained every day I was in England. Scotland was real pretty. Oh, yes, it was the Queen Elizabeth and not the Mary that I sailed on. It was a smooth ride. Of course, some of the boys got sick, but I didn’t. Well, on December 2nd, we left England. Good riddance. Too much rain. Our ride by train to South Hampton was a slow one. Them English trains are nothing like ours. At South Hampton, we hit the gangplank again. It was three days on the channel up to LaHavre. Boy, was that place bombed to hell. Not a building was left standing. It was still raining when we hit the beach. I got wet up to my knees. I can just imagine these poor boys who had to fight for the place. The stench was terrible. Even at this late date, December 7th. Well, it was 11:30, and I was wet, cold, and hungry, but still, we had to hike 8 miles. About 3 a.m., we hit the bivouac area. It was still raining, and the ground was plenty muddy. Boy, was I tired, and my morale was low. They threw some cold C-Rations at us, and we were told not to make any fires. I was so wet, cold, and tired I didn’t want to eat. I pitched my tent and went to sleep. In the morning, we had hot cakes and coffee. At noon time, the trucks came to take us to our new bivouac area. It was only a couple hours’ ride. It stopped raining just long enough to pitch tents. Then it started pouring. Well, our three days here were plenty wet. One thing about France is that no matter where you look, you are sure to find a church. Our chaplain had mass said at the church on Tuesday before we left. That was the first time I went to communion before going to confession. It was then that I felt pretty sure of coming out of combat alive. Two days later, we left by truck to go to Belgium. It was a two-day ride. We slept in the trucks. It was too cold, and too much snow on the ground to bother with pitching tents. We got into Belgium and pitched tents among the great big everglades. There was about two feet of snow, but it was considerably warm in the woods. The great big trees with their snow-covered tops were a beautiful sight. We were 20 miles from the font and had orders to move up on a minute’s notice. Then it came. Boy, was I nervous. The trucks came, and we loaded horseshoe packs and duffle bags attached. We hit the Ziegfeld Line on December 11th. It didn’t last long for us. We started shelling them, and they gave it to us, but good. I was sent out with a 30 LMG [Light Machine Gun] to cover the final protection line. I dug a two-man foxhole with my ammo bearer. That night, a Jerry [a German] patrol tried to get through us between the rifleman and BAR [Browning Automatic Rifle] and my LMG (Light Machine Gun). In the morning, there were 8 men lying with extra weight in their bodies. I went for two days and nights without food or water. It was cold. My feet were a little frostbitten. On the 13th, we were told to pull out. We were trapped on all sides. Our objective was to break through their lines and to capture a town. We never got through. They gave us a good battle. Our supply lines were cut off. The artillery and MED were left behind. Jerry got them from the rear. We had no artillery support, and our tanks were all captured. There we were, all small arms against those Panzer tanks. It was hard for us. Their 88 [88 millimeter guns] had us pinned. When the barrage lifted, almost all of us in L Company were hit. Then Jerry came in for the kill. About 40 of them, on foot. Well, they got it. We killed them all but one. He was so badly wounded that we left him there to die. Then their tanks made us quit. I was hit, and so were a lot of other boys. They walked us for about 8 hours to their rear line, searched us, and took everything I had on me, even my cigarettes. It was late at night. I was hungry. We were put in a field to sleep on the cold ground. My leg was bothering me, so I asked Jerry to help me. He did and sent me to a hospital. Later, I was sent to Stalag 11B by train with a lot of other GIs. It was a 4-day train ride. Food was scarce. Just a little marge and 11 men to a loaf of bread and no water. When I got to 11B, it was 30 hours since the last I had anything to eat. After a delouse, they gave us our soup. It was lousy, but I was hungry, and I have been hungry ever since that day. On January 14, about 200 of us left 11B. We were thrown into a boxcar, 40 to a car. We had nothing to eat until the 4th day. Guess what we got? Yeah, a loaf of bread for the 40 of us. Pretty good, these Jerrys, huh? Only 188 of us walked. After that, 12 got killed by the airplane strafing and bombing us. On January 18th, we got to Stalag 2A. I had another delouse. The only times I had a bath were with the delouse, and I only had two of them. They fed us soup and gave us Red Cross parcels. They were a Godsend. All good food, but I was sick. The doctor said it was exposure. I was put in the hospital. Later, he said I had sinusitis. Boy, it’s no wonder. It was awful cold in that boxcar after I was in the hospital for 3 weeks. I felt much better. The boys done my cooking for me. I felt like my old self again. I went to the barracks, and who do I meet, but Joe Raguseo. We have been together ever since. I was put into the sick barracks and didn’t have to go on any work details. Who the hell wanted to do any work for Jerry anyway? It wouldn’t be so bad if they fed us, but soup every day is just a slow death. It was cold at 2A, but I was looking forward to the summer and a break as soon as the hot weather came. Then, on March 7th, I was told to pack up what little I had, and along with 600 others, we hit the road. The Jerrys were afraid the Russians were getting too close, so we walked 150 kilometers. After 7 days on the road, my feet were pretty sore, and the guards were pretty rough, hitting the boys with their rifles. I got hit once because I could not walk so fast, and I didn’t like it either, but what could I do? Nothing. Then, we were told those that can’t go on would be sent to a hospital. So, Joe and I thought it would be best to drop out rather than go on. About 200 fell out, and instead of a hospital, we were put to work on a commando cutting down big trees. This was really tough. We got one loaf of bread a week, one soup a day, and coffee for breakfast without milk or sugar. Boy, talk about hungry. We was it, the whole 26 of us, after 3 weeks. We finally got some Red Cross parcels. Then it wasn’t so bad. Then came May 2nd and our freedom. A British patrol set us free at 10:00 that night. Their trucks took us to Wismar. We slept in a nice big house and had a Limey breakfast with tea, cereal, ham, and eggs. Then they turned us loose and said the town was ours. We could have anything we wanted just by taking it. Well, we did. I got myself a car and anything else I wanted. I went joyriding and almost got killed. I went too far and hit Russian lines. Well, I had a Jerry car. The Russians thought I was a Jerry, but I convinced them with some good old American cigarettes. I finally had enough of that and took off for an airport that I had orders to report to. When I got there, I had a couple of days to wait for a plane. In the meantime, some GI steals my car. I had all my cigarettes, 2 cartons of them, also 2 Red Cross parcels, and 125 rounds of ammo for my little 32 I got. Why don’t these GIs be a little more considerate? After that C47 ride, I landed in Nancy (France). From there to Epinal (France). That’s where I bought some perfume for my wife. I hope she likes it. And now, here I am, somewhere near LaHavre, waiting to be shipped back to the good old USA and then home to my wife and little son for a 60-day furlough.
Art Maestro
Buried in St. John’s Cemetery, 223 Richards Avenue, Norwalk, Connecticut; Unknown plot number
Photo pending
END
Honor Norwalk CT veterans 