newjerseynewsroom.com

BY WARREN BOROSON

NEWJERSEYNEWSROOM.COM

"Cigarettes for Bread" (2007) is a lively, easy-to-read book written by a World War II POW, the late Paul W. Church, about his imprisonment in Germany. In his book, Church frequently mentions a fellow POW: "Al" Trause, 19, who was from New Jersey. Trause helped provide comic relief.

One wintry day, the POWs were digging near a sidewalk in Munich. A beautiful young Fraulein walked past. Church wrote: "Al Trause, the New Jersey lyricist, working on top of a pile of dirt, was moved to compose a song on the spot. It went: ‘Hello, young lady, how do you do? How about a stroll down the avenue?' The young lady looked at him, ventured a smile, and said, ‘I speak English, yes.'" Trause was so shocked that "We picked Al up out of the hole and revived him with applications of snow on the forehead, down the neck, and on the midriff."

On July 19, Vito Trause of Washington Township, Bergen County, celebrates his 85th birthday — he adopted the "Al" and ditched the "Vito" because he had heard that the Germans had it in for Italian POWs.

• As a high school football player, Vito had been racing toward the goal line when he tripped over his own shoelaces;
• Celebrating his return from the war, he went to the Copacabana --- and on being offered cream or lemon with his tea, decided to go for broke and have both.
• As a softball player in an over-35 league, he always kept a cigar in his mouth. When batting and even when catching behind the plate. (One of the gifts he received at the roast: a catcher's mask with a hole for a cigar.)
• Vito has been very active in kids' activities, and a priest, Father Thomas McCarthy, said at the roast he could relate all sorts of nice things about Vito, such as...such as... (Later, he did speak about Vito's "charity and good will.")

Vito has a boisterous, infectious laugh and a gravelly voice; he says "Hi ya, pal" upon greeting almost everyone; and he is forever making fun of himself. "My daughter is studying forensics at John Jay College," he said proudly, "and I don't even know what ‘forensics' means."

His chief personality trait is his buoyant good humor. He'll enter a restaurant, wearing his POW/MIA cap, and in a few minutes will be chatting amiably with the former strangers at the next table. Whenever people are seriously depressed, a physician should just inject them with a few drops of Vito's blood and they'll snap out of it in no time. An old friend says, "Vito gets more out of life than anyone I know. He's virtually ALWAYS upbeat."

Vito has reason to be upbeat. He was a high school dropout, worked as a prisoner of war in Germany for almost a year, and had trouble landing a good job once back in the states. Today he owns a big house, all paid for, has two adoring daughters (his wife died five years ago), and a zillion friends and admirers. (Daughter Torry is on the left in the photo, Cindy on the right.) "And the government pays for all my pills," he says, with a laugh, showing a pillbox full of medications.

"God has been taking good care of me all these years," he says. Remembering his experience during World War II, he shakes his head and adds, "I should have been killed."

***

His parents were poor, and as a child Vito worked as a pinsetter in bowling alleys. He played football at East Rutherford High School (now Becton High School), but dropped out, and before he could return was drafted. He trained at Fort Dix and Fort McClellan, then was sent to Africa for mountain training.

He went to Naples with the 34th Infantry, then up the Italian coast to Bologna. Working as a scout, he and his detail were caught in a crossfire. He remembers: "We were cut off, and the guys behind us were killed. All day long, there was mortar and artillery fire. We were trapped. Twenty-seven were killed, and the rest were captured.

"We were interned in a farmhouse in Italy, and three guys with guns took us out into the road. We thought they would shoot us, but they sent us to Munich in boxcars. They treated us bad. American and English planes strafed the boxcars, and a lot of guys inside were killed. We had only a little water and a potato to eat, that was it."

The prisoners worked in Munich, fixing cable lines, taking out bodies. During air raids, they went to makeshift shelters — not the safer ones the Germans used, unless a German guard had pity on them.

"I was sorry for the kids who were killed in the bombings," Vito says. "Some of them had children. Thirty or 40 of them never came back out of 200. When we had roll call, they never answered.

"At Christmas time, you could see grown men crying — it was hard to describe.

"I prayed a lot. Everyone prayed.

"There was a detail of German Jews. They wore striped clothing, like you see in old movies. They were treated very badly. My feet were frozen, and one Jew gave me Russian shoes to wear — he saved my life." (Today, because of his frost-bitten feet, Vito is on total disability. The Jewish prisoners may have been Mishling — German soldiers later classified as part Jewish.)

"It was so long ago, but I have a lot of memories," he goes on. "I should have died a long time ago, but everything worked out for me."

After they were liberated, Vito and some pals went to Paris, where they had a wild, wild time. They took Red Cross food packages they received, and sold them to the French. Some soldiers even stole French cars off the streets — and sold them to other Frenchmen.

Back in the states, Vito worked at two jobs, one of them with Magnavox, one with East Rutherford Syringe. For years he worked from 7 a.m. to 12 midnight, and was finally able to retire.

Magnavox had owned a luxurious booth at Yankee Stadium, behind home plate, and Vito's job at one time was to serve refreshments to the celebrities watching the ballgame. He remembers introducing Barbara Eden ("I Dream of Jeannie") to Henry Kissinger. And to Cary Grant. "She was more beautiful in person than on television," he says. Once he rode up an elevator with Phil Rizzuto, and treated him like the elevator operator — until Rizzuto realized that his leg was being pulled.

***

The book "Cigarettes for Bread" was self-published, but it's a good read, horrifying and funny at the same time. (Prisoners who didn't smoke could trade their cigarettes — from home, from the Red Cross — for food and thus help ensure their survival.)

Vito is mentioned prominently in another part of the book.

Once while they were in prison barracks, a pretty young German girl offered to play the piano for them. There were numerous requests, and she played everything from "Lili Marlene" to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. "But boogie-woogie stumped her. Al Trause made a wholehearted attempt to teach her and even illustrated with terpsichorean moves that wowed the local gentry back in Jersey in '43, but his efforts were unproductive. The maiden simply hadn't the soul for it. Finally, he gave up the attempt...."

Vito is proud of his frequent appearances in the book — just as he is proud that a mayor of Washington Township (who works mostly at night) once referred to him as Washington Township's daytime mayor. And that local schools ask him to speak on Memorial Day. He was the grand marshal in this year's Memorial Day parade, and mentioned the names of the five Carlstadt servicemen who had been killed.

An old friend says, "For years Vito has belonged to a large private pool association — it attracted young kids like a Pied Piper — and he played with them in the pool and made them feel good about themselves.

"He attends all types of kids' amateur sporting events — has officiated at many — gave encouragement to many kids when it was required — and this had a lasting effect on many. The Westwood High School football team awarded him a varsity jacket at a home game presentation — as its No. 1 Fan.

"Vito drives many needy people shopping and to medical appointments. He visits VA hospitals on good-will errands without fanfare. He is a unique individual."

***

What did he learn, I asked Vito, from his experience in a prison camp during wartime?

He becomes serious for a moment, then says, "I learned you should try to help everyone. You need friends. I try to help anyone who needs help.

"You got to have a buddy system. A lot of people don't want to be helped, but you've got to offer anyway. There were guys who helped me when I was in trouble. So don't forget your friends."