by Cat Schilling | Memorial Military Museum for The Bristol Edition | April 26, 2026 |

Joe Vukelich, aged 80, living in Ironwood Michigan, never knew his father, Hedvig Jusilla. Hedvig was killed during WWII in the Netherlands while his wife was pregnant. Joe grew up without ever seeing his father’s face. His mother later remarried, and Joe was raised in a loving home by a good man, alongside two younger sisters. Still, the absence of his father remained. 

Wondering lingered for 80 years.

On Oct. 8, 2025, everything changed.

That day, Joe opened a carefully wrapped package sent from Connecticut. Inside was Hedvig’s wallet-sized military portrait as well as an 8×10 framed copy I had made. For the first time in his life, Joe looked into the face of his father. The moment was deeply emotional, captured by his sister Jessie.

What Joe didn’t know was just how extraordinary that moment truly was.

It began on Dec. 23, 2024. And I played a role.  When I was scrolling through the Facebook page of a local thrift shop in Berlin, Conn., I saw something that immediately caught my attention: a set of wallet-sized World War II soldier photographs, 93 in total, each labeled with a name, rank, and address. To a genealogist, which I am by profession and affection, it was a treasure!

I knew I couldn’t let these pieces of history slip away. Without hesitation, I emailed the shop owner and jumped in the car, even though I knew it wasn’t the right time. Five adult kids and seven grandchildren meant I had already spent enough on Christmas. 

Hedvig Jussila

Forty minutes later, I was back home, photographs in hand, already beginning the work of building a WWII family tree on Ancestry. My goal was simple–find the families of the men in the photos–and return the photos where they belonged–with the families. 

Between projects that I was obligated to finish, I kept at this, determined to find all the photos a home. I was not alone in this task, either. Carol Denehy, my co-committee member at the Memorial Military Museum helped identify that the men who all belonged to the 79th Infantry Division, and would have trained at Camp Blanding in Florida. 

Her military knowledge opened the door.

I found a Facebook group dedicated to the 79th Infantry Division and posted a list of the names, explaining how I had come across the photos. I offered any family with a connection to reach out so I could return each photo. Within hours, responses poured in. People were amazed at the find. I was amazed at their response.

One response came from George Cressman, head of collections at the Fort Blanding Museum. He asked if I could scan the photographs and send them to the museum so they would be available for families searching in the future. I obliged. I was proud and felt I had done what I set out to do. 

These men were no longer lost to time. Their faces and names were preserved and in a place where they could be found. The originals went into a box on my bookshelf and I moved on to other projects.

Months passed.

Then, on Aug. 7, 2025, it happened again–everything changed.

A message from Sue Linton, a volunteer in Michigan connected to the American Cemetery in Margraten, Netherlands, and the Fields of Honor project arrived by email. She wrote, “I have been searching for a picture of H. M. Jussila (Hedvig M.) for four years.”

That message led to a follow up phone call.

Sue shared Hedvig’s story of his service, and the son who had been born after his death. She told me that no one in the family had ever had a photograph of him. Joe, now 80 years old, had gone his entire life without knowing what his father looked like.

And there I was, sitting in Bristol, Conn., holding that very photograph.

There are no words to describe the feeling, the realization that something sitting on my bookshelf was the answer to an 80-year search.

Sue connected me with Joe’s sister, Jessie, as Joe himself is a very private man. Jessie and I exchanged text messages, both of us in disbelief. We arranged for me to send the photographs for her to present to her brother.

On Oct. 8, 2025, she made the hour-and-a-half drive to surprise him.

That evening, a photo of Joe holding his father’s picture for the very first time arrived along with a text message.

I was simply overcome. To know that I had played a part in bringing closure to a search that spanned eight decades is something I will carry with me forever–not just bringing a face to Hedvig, but to bringing a son his father’s face for the very first time in 80 years.  It stands as one of the most meaningful moments of my life.

And yet, the story didn’t end there.

Sue told me more about the Faces of Margraten project, an effort by volunteers in the Netherlands to ensure that every American service member buried there has a photo and a story. They were looking for volunteers in each state to help identify and connect with families.

I was given a list of 17 men from Connecticut buried in Margraten who had no known photos or personal histories attached to their names. As I scanned the list, one name stood out: John Victor Quinto, Bristol, Hartford County.

I couldn’t believe it.

I went straight to Ancestry and, within minutes, found his family. Like Hedvig, John had died in the war before his younger sisters were born. His father later remarried, and John’s younger siblings grew up knowing little about him. They remembered seeing a portrait but knew almost nothing of his service.

I reached out, and they shared a copy of his photograph.

I sent it to the project in the Netherlands, where it now stands alongside his name–no longer just a name, but a face, a person, a story, just as with Hedvig’s. 

Since then, I’ve helped identify three of the 17 Connecticut men on that list. Fourteen remain.

And I won’t stop, because a story changes when you can see the face behind it. It becomes real. Personal. Human. 

And there is more.

One of our committee members, Cathy Macias, recently discovered her first cousin once removed is buried in Margraten as well. She will be visiting her own son who lives in Amsterdam in early May and together they will be visiting the final resting place of her relative, along with the resting places of Hedvig Jussila and John Victor Quinto. 

The story doesn’t seem to want to end, and that’s ok with me. 

These men gave their lives. The least we can do is ensure they are remembered, not as names etched in a simple white cross, but as individuals who had lived childhoods, and young adulthood, made memories and had families.

Miracles don’t always look the way we expect. Sometimes, they begin with a simple decision like rushing to a thrift shop two days before Christmas and buying something you probably shouldn’t have.

***

The stories of these two men, along with the mission of the Faces of Margraten Project will be part of a Memorial Military Museum program, “Crossing Oceans: A Journey of Two Men Across Time, Distance and Generations,” on May 21, 7 p.m., at the Bristol Historical Society, 98 Summer St.

***

On Monday, April 27, 3:30 p.m. at the Memorial Military Museum at the Bristol Historical Society, there will be the presentation of a proclamation from Mayor Ellen Zoppo-Sassu to Cathy Macias, a museum member who will be traveling to Margraten and will visit the grave of a relative who is buried there, along with visiting the grave sites of Jusilla and Quinto. Macias will deliver greetings and the proclamation to representatives at Margraten.

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