Danny Colombo was an Army machine gunner during the decisive Battle of the Bulge, which helped the Allied forces bring Nazi Germany to its knees toward the end of World War II. Hanging with the 28th Infantry, Colombo saw his share of war. “I thought I was going to be dead,” said Colombo, who looks nowhere near his 75 years, of the battle that pierced the German front lines in Western Europe. “There were tanks all around you and we never thought we would survive. Oh, what a fight that was. I don’t know how we survived it.” Columbo saw enough blood and felt enough pain for two lifetimes. But next month, the state of New Jersey and the U.S. Army will recognize the soldier and former lounge singer for his decorated tour of duty with the New Jersey Distinguished Service Medal, awarded to hero veterans of war. According to Danny, it will be the 11th medal that he received for courage in the battlefield. But for as many medals as Colombo has proudly displayed in his Kennedy Boulevard apartment, he’s got a hundred more stories. “I never said nothing about it,” Colombo said of his many wartime exploits, “and all of a sudden, I’m getting all these medals.” His stories come one after the other like bullets from a machine gun, as he talks excitedly about the time 25 German officers waved a white flag at him. After pinning them down with his carbine rifle, Colombo said he saw a white flag waving from a German bunker. Though he was alone, as the rest of his unit was spread out over the forest, Colombo lined the enemy up and stripped each man of his weapons and supplies. “I must have looked like a Boy Scout,” the five-foot tall Colombo said. His war tales range in tone and seriousness, as Danny tells the story of when he was frying eggs in an occupied residence behind enemy lines. After he thought he cleared the house of any Germans, it turns out Colombo missed one. As the enemy soldier sneaked up on him from behind, Danny remembers the now-humorous scene that saw him defend himself with the hot skillet, the eggs still frying inside. But Danny is quick to point out that war is just that. In Europe during the 1940s, Danny lost many friends and comrades. He somberly told a quick story of a boat mission he was pulled off of just before the rest of his unit deployed. “I don’t know why God saved me,” Danny said. The entire company perished that day. “They were all wiped out.” “I was young then,” Colombo said. “I would never [go off to war] again.” Even got to sing But without joining the Army, Danny said, he may have never lived quite the extraordinary life that he has. When Danny first enlisted in the Army, despite his mother’s attempts to keep him too skinny to be taken, he was interested in singing and entertainment. On one of his first days in uniform, Colombo strolled into a lounge on the Georgia base he was stationed at. Inside, playing the piano, was an old friend of his. Knowing his affinity for making music, Danny started to sing as his friend played. “I sounded like Sinatra then,” Danny said. His singing voice quickly got picked up on by his fellow soldiers and Danny was recruited to sing with the Army orchestra. He was also granted his own radio program that aired on Armed Forces Radio. “It was unbelievable,” Danny said of what turned out to be the birth of his life on stage and behind the microphone. In 1945, Colombo returned from the war and began a career that he said saw him “sing in every night club in New York City.” During the height of the nightclub revolution in the city, Danny said that he was the hottest act in the hottest clubs in town. The pictures in Danny’s apartment show him with his arm wrapped around stars like Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Barry White. In each picture, Colombo is capped in a white fedora or with trademark sunglasses. Taking the identity of Russ Colombo, a singing star of the 1930s, Danny rose to fame with an act that he said could make you laugh or cry. Almost like the war stories he tells. Russ Colombo was a famous singer that died at the early age of 36. Toying with a friend’s antique gun, the star was shot in the head when a bullet was accidentally discharged from the weapon. “He was sort of like Bing Crosby,” Danny said. “They were sort of rivals.” Years later, supermarket tabloids picked up on Danny’s act and pronounced him as the reincarnation of Russ Colombo. Danny has clippings of stories that mistake him for the real deal, laughing at the spreads of Colombo’s ex-lovers that the papers rumor to have him in bed with. Danny said that his impression of Russ was so authentic that Frank Sinatra was floored, literally, when he came to see him perform for the first time. “What a voice I had,” Danny said. “Oh, my God.” Though his days of playing the nightclub circuit in Las Vegas and New York are a bit behind him, Danny is hoping to get on stage again for the re-opening of the Loew’s Theater in Journal Square. He said that personalities such as New York Mayor Rudy Guiliani and Donald Trump could easily be in attendance for a show that begins with a monologue on the life of Russ Colombo, for which he is awaiting approval from Mayor Bret Schundler. “It’s a show,” Colombo said. “Not like these singers that line up one after the other.” Old songs, such as “Danny Boy” and “Song of My Heart” are a part of the program that Danny promises will be the same as it was when he played in Union City’s Park Theater recently. No date has been scheduled for the Loew’s performance yet.
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