WEIRTON — Of the 16.4 million Americans who served in World War II, only 66,143 — or fewer than 1 percent — were still living as of 2024, according to the National WW II Museum in New Orleans.
Of that remaining population, only 196 were recorded by the museum as living in West Virginia. One of those veterans is Dr. Leonard Pensis, who’s been a resident of Weirton’s Wyngate Senior Living Community for about 15 months.
Now 98 years old, Pensis remains active and enjoys walking around the living facility every day, without the use of a cane. Pensis’ mind has begun to fail him, but when asked, he can still recall fragments of the brief yet emotionally impactful time he spent serving his country.
Pensis was born Aug. 4, 1926, in Belle Vernon, Pa., a borough along the Monongahela River to the south of Pittsburgh. His family was often moving for work opportunities — all of the extended family together, relocating as a unit. Pensis found himself living all throughout the Monongahela Valley and even as far away as Weirton.
He attended the former Marion High School, where he captained the football and baseball teams. Pensis’ love for the latter sport led him to play some semi-pro baseball, though he’d soon put those hopes aside in favor of another path.
At the age of 17, having just begun his senior year, Pensis volunteered to join the military in September 1943. World War II was raging on overseas, and Pensis recognized: “They needed help over there.”
Contributing to the war effort was a “thrilling” prospect, Pensis recalled, but not everyone shared the same opinion.
“My mom was just frightened. She thought I was going to get shot,” Pensis said, adding later: “She was afraid I’d never come back home.”
Nevertheless, Pensis entered the Army Air Forces — the Air Force’s predecessor — in May of 1944, as soon as he graduated from high school. He was sent to Scott Air Force Base in Illinois, near St. Louis.
Trained as a radio operator for B-26 and B-17 bomber aircraft, Pensis began active duty in October 1944. In May 1945, he had embarked on a ship bound for England, when the Allies accepted Germany’s unconditional surrender.
Pensis’ squad was then charged with commanding Fürstenfeldbruck Air Base, a former German Luftwaffe training base near Munich.
As a radio operator, Pensis was often in the back of planes, photos of which still remain in the family. Pensis recalled one instance where a main gear in a B-26 collapsed, breaking his nose and a few ribs.
“We had a job to do … to protect our country,” Pensis said.
In August 1946, the military released Pensis, a sergeant at the time. After coming home, Pensis attended mortuary school in Pittsburgh with the intent of becoming a mortician in the Monongahela Valley. Employers wouldn’t give him a job, claiming he knew so many people in the area that the role would be too difficult to handle.
So, Pensis secured a job at Clarke Funeral Home in Toronto through an uncle who worked at Weirton Steel. He ended up meeting his future wife, Gatha Pensis of Toronto, at the funeral for her sister.
Pensis — who always wanted his own business but felt there were too many funeral homes — attended the Ohio State University College of Veterinary Medicine in Columbus to become a veterinarian. That education was made possible by the GI Bill, and Pensis would donate to the veterinary college each year as a way of paying back the gift.
Pensis established Hilltop Animal Hospital in Paris, Pa., in a home remodeled to feature a kennel. He would remain in the veterinary business for 41 years.
Pensis and his wife, who died in 2003, had four children together and now have six grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren.
The two’s youngest son, J.B. Pensis, said his father is “physically remarkable” given his age. At 95, Leonard Pensis was still doing maintenance around his Paris home, which he would leave a year later.
What Pensis’ family knows about his service largely comes from what he said while in his late 80s. Even then, Pensis wasn’t keen on divulging, and he never had been.
“Any of the service talk, you had to draw it out of him,” J.B. Pensis said. “He would never talk about the service. Even accolades from organizations because he was in World War II, he wouldn’t accept it because he just didn’t feel like he did anything. He always felt that the heroes were the guys who either gave their life or were injured. He just never thought of himself as a military vet, really.”
J.B. Pensis said he’s traveled to the Fürstenfeldbruck area, attempting to learn more from locals. From what he’s gathered, the area was “completely destroyed” during the war, leaving nothing but devastation behind.
“He really couldn’t tell us what it was like over there,” J.B. Pensis said of his father. “He would break down on a couple of occasions, crying. He said what hurt him most was seeing the young children and what they were living in over there then. … I’m sure it was horrific to see, all the women and children and the families.”
Whenever Leonard Pensis did speak about the service, it never focused on himself, his son said. Rather, he always reiterated: “I did nothing. I did what I had to do. I came home and lived my life.”
That disregard for self is characteristic of the Greatest Generation, J.B. Pensis said, adding that what the young American men did during the war is something he doubts anyone could accomplish nowadays.
“The thing I think about all the time is, here’s a guy who’s 98 years old, just barely got into World War II,” J.B. Pensis said. “He barely got in the boat, and, on his way over, the war ended. He volunteered at 17. So, everybody who got into the war is either older than him or already gone. There aren’t many of them left, that’s for sure”
Indeed, Leonard Pensis is a treasure — part of a small contingent of living history that’s perhaps no more than a decade away from vanishing forever, once the final WW II veteran passes away. Pensis himself recognized the importance of individuals telling their stories and keeping history alive.
“We ourselves can’t do it,” he said. “We depend on other people.”