Manuel 'Manny' Perez, who rode a Sherman tank into battle in World War II, dead at 99 - Chicago Sun-Times

Nov 13, 2024

Manuel “Manny” Perez (bottom right) with his tank unit comrades.

Provided

Share

Manuel “Manny” Perez saw World War II through the periscope of a Sherman tank. It rumbled onto the beaches of Normandy a few days after D-Day as part of the 737th tank battalion.

“They were known as ‘Patton’s Spearheaders’ for leading the way into battle,” in a unit led by Gen. George S Patton, said Mr. Perez’s son Andy Perez.

“They entered certain areas and regions and crossing certain rivers before any other American units and really were part of some of the fiercest fighting of the entire war,” said Sean Scanlon, a World War II military historian at the Jenny Craig Institute for the Study of War and Democracy.

The battallion was attached to the 35th infantry division, which was part of Patton’s famed third army.

“Patton was certainly known as an incredibly aggressive and effective commander,” Scanlon said.

Mr. Perez told stories of being spared from the some of the worst fighting his battalion encountered — in one case when a landmine blew the tracks off his tank heading into battle near Mortain, France, and also when enemy fire damaged the gun atop his tank as he entered the fray in the Battle of the Bulge, forcing him to turn around to seek repairs.

“The man above was looking out for me,” he told his family.

“He always said he was amazed he survived,” said Frank Perez, another son.

Mr. Perez died Oct. 13 after suffering an aneurysm. He was 99.

There were roughly 750 men in the battalion, mostly from Southern states. Battalion reunions were held for years. Mr. Perez made it to a few. In 2015, only three members of the battalion, all men all in their 90s, attended a reunion in North Carolina, according to the Salisbury (N.C.) Post, which covered the event.

“It’s unclear if anyone else is left,” Frank Perez said. “Dad may have been the last one.”

According to U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, 66,143 of the 16.4 million Americans who served in World War II were alive as of 2024 — less than 1%.

Illinois was home to 2,531 of them.

Mr. Perez grew up in Strawn, Texas. In high school, he played football and played in the band.

At 17, he stood 5-feet-6-inches and weighed 120 pounds when he tried to enlist but was turned away because he was too young. Once he was 18, he joined the Army. He wanted to become a pilot but failed a test.

As a teenager in Patton’s tank unit, “Like every 18-year-old, he did like he was told and was scared,” Andy Perez said. “But, when he got into battle, he did what he was trained for. He was a kid from Texas, but he knew he had to get rid of Hitler.”

Mr. Perez never interacted with Patton, he told his sons, but caught glimpses of the famed military leader and the ivory-handled pistols he carried.

Mr. Perez was born in Aug. 3, 1925, the oldest of nine children. His father was a coal miner. His mother was a homemaker.

While Mr. Perez was in the military, his father, in search of steady work, moved the family first to Michigan and then Chicago, where he found work as a butcher at the old Union Stockyards.

After the end of WWII, Mr. Perez left the Army and lived in Chicago for a time before reenlisting, according to his sons, who said he served as a military police officer in South Korea, as well as in a unit that delivered mail.

Later, Mr. Perez returned to Chicago, married his sweetheart Lupe — they’d met at a church social — and began a career working at a company that sent advertisements through the mail.

Mr. Perez raised his family in Little Italy, a short distance from Al’s #1 Italian Beef on Taylor Street, before moving to Elmwood Park in 1972.

Mr. Perez and his wife were married for 66 years, until her death after a long struggle with dementia, according to his sons.

In recent years, he was an active member of American Legion Post 974 in Franklin Park and loved to play golf.

At 97, Mr. Perez made a trip back to Europe with a group that celebrates veterans.

“It was like he was a freakin’ rock star,” said Andy Perez, who accompanied his father. “I didn’t understand the impact of being a liberator. I never appreciated that, but those people remember. Young men in their 20s and 30s were eager to speak to him. It’s in their history. But we’re insulated from that. Maybe you see it in history books and movies, but it’s ingrained in them.”

In addition to his two sons, Mr. Perez is survived by five grandchildren and 10 great-grandchildren. Services have been held.

Share