When Montie Broadwell went to the roller derby, she never realized she was going to roll into her first love.
It was December 1941, and Montie was a teen living in Chattanooga, Tenn. Her cousins invited her to go to the auditorium to see the roller derby. They were boy-watching from the bleachers, and the boys were girl-watching. One fair-headed fellow came up with two friends to say hello.
Asked what she was wearing that day, Montie can only remember it was a dress. Asked what Alvin Vanzant was wearing, and she can recreate every detail.
"He wasn't like the other young men his age who wore casual pants and a pullover T-shirt," she says. "He always wore a pressed, button-down shirt with slacks. Not the casual slacks, but dress slacks. And he had on a brown and white checkered sportcoat.
"I thought he was the most handsome man I had ever seen in my life."
A month later, they were courting. Alvin had to quit school and get a job at the Chattanooga Stamping and Enameling Co. to support his mom. He didn't have a car, so whenever Alvin and Montie went out, they took the streetcar or walked.
Sometimes, they would go to the movies, but mostly they would just go for long walks. Their favorite place was Jackson Park, next to the Chattanooga National Cemetery, where soldiers have been buried since the Civil War. They would explore the hills and rock formations, including one where a footprint had seemingly melted into a boulder.
All the while, Montie was melting into Alvin's arms.
"Oh, those eyes of his. He had the most beautiful eyes you ever saw in your life," Montie says. "It's still a mystery to me. He had dark blond hair but he had light streaks in it, the kind women pay a fortune to get put in their hair today."
By December of '42, Montie Webster had become Montie Vanzant, but the honeymoon was interrupted by a notice from the War Department. The Army needed Alvin to help with World War II. He reported in July. Because of his drafting skills, he was placed in the engineering corps.
When Alvin came home on leave that December, Montie was eight months pregnant. Alvin talked about all the plans he had for his new family when he got out of the Army: a job, a white house, a white picket fence.
Alvin Vanzant Jr. was born in January 1944. Montie had no idea where Alvin was based, so she sent a message through the Red Cross. Alvin finally called home but he couldn't tell her where he was. Montie squeezed the baby so Alvin could hear his son's voice. But he would never get to see him.
What Alvin couldn't tell his wife was that he was preparing to be a part of the Allied invasion of western Europe. On this day 59 years ago, Alvin died on the shores of Normandy. Seventeen days later, Montie got a telegram with two red stars on it.
The Secretary of War desires me to express his deep regret that your husband, Private Alvin Wade Vanzant, was killed in action June 6 in France.
"I just ignored it," Montie explains. "I said, "I'm not going to pay any attention to it.' I was just in denial. I didn't cry because I just didn't believe it."
It wasn't until months later when she was living with her parents that reality caught up with her. One day, she just collapsed into tears. She couldn't stop crying. Her mother and father called the doctor, who declared she was having a nervous breakdown.
"At that time, they didn't put you in the hospital."
It would be another two weeks before she began to function again.
"I don't remember when the war ended, but I know when it did end it didn't mean a thing to me," she says.
Four years after Alvin was killed, his body was brought home and placed in that cemetery where he once had walked with Montie.
For the past 27 years, Montie has been married to Barney Broadwell, a fine gentleman, and they have spent most of that time living in Tampa. For many years, she worked at the Tampa International Airport Post Office but now enjoys her retirement.
Every June 6, she awakes to see how the newspapers have commemorated D-Day. Sometimes she finds barely a mention.
For once, I thought she should find her own personal D-Day story.
