Daniel Rubin: On a mission to sweeten war veterans' lives

"Want to see why I started this?" Joe Schachter asked while driving to the veterans hospital in Coatesville with 150 pounds of cookies.

He handed me a photograph of four Marines in Afghanistan, explosive-ordnance-device techs, meaning those hard cases in padded suits who blow up bombs.

His son, Joe Jr., was second from the left, 26 years old, same grin as his dad. "They're all buddies, all staff sergeants," Joe Sr. said. "May 1, 2009, the one on the right pulled two of the others out of the truck. My son was in the turret that day. They were switching places when they hit an IED."

The blast shot the armored truck 20 feet into the air. Everyone rocketed around inside, but no one died.

"Joe's arm was broken in half. He got a concussion, needed stitches in his head. He's fine."

Joe Jr. always sends trinkets back to his folks. This time he sent a Purple Heart, which his father had brought along for our ride. "Ever seen one before?"

The retired electrician from Feasterville has a new, full-time job: sending food to those who have been in harm's way. The mission started small, six years ago, when Joe Jr. shipped off to Iraq. Most of the Northeast High grad's time was spent on patrol, and he quickly got sick of MREs, those space-age packets of sloppy joes and cheese tortellini.

The Marine missed his Tastykakes.

In letters home he asked for Chef Boyardee and Hormel's chili and spam. For dessert he wanted butterscotch Krimpets.

Joe Jr. shared his care packages with his pals, and the group's appreciation sent his parents to the post office every two weeks for another 20- or 30-pound shipment. This routine has gone on for six years, through two tours in Iraq and one of Afghanistan.

"Whatever we have to do to keep him going," Joe Sr. says.

The mom-and-pop mission became a full-fledged operation once Gene Epstein stepped up. Epstein is a Bucks County philanthropist who made his money in cars and real estate. Red tape had frustrated his urge to help troops who were suffering financially. Then he heard what the Schachters were doing.

Joe Sr. recalls his first conversation with Epstein last fall.

"I want to send some cookies to the troops," Epstein told him.

"Fine. We're getting ready to mail again. We'll put yours in a box."

"Yeah, but I want to send 200 pounds' worth."

Epstein had a particular cookie in mind, a sentimental sweet. During World War II, his older brother Wes fought his way to Germany, and their mother used to send him a family treat called schnecken, mouthfuls of rolled dough stuffed with walnuts, orange zest, and prunes.

After Thanksgiving, Epstein contracted with Colonial Bakery in Washington Crossing to follow the recipe of his late mother, Matilda.

Since then, he's helped the Schachters create a nonprofit, Food4Troops.org, that has shipped about 5,000 pounds of cookies and other tastes of home to Iraq and Afghanistan.

That was how 2,000 pieces of schnecken wound up in the back of the Schachters' Toyota SUV last week, bound for Coatesville.

Joe Sr. talked of how every parent worries about harm coming to his children, but now he and his wife, Cheryl, have a son whose job is to go looking for trouble.

"Some people sell hot dogs. Some people defuse bombs. He tells my wife, 'No crying. No being upset.' "

At 17, Joe Jr., brought a Marine recruiter to their home, then in Rhawnhurst. Joe Sr., who'd served in the Navy during the Vietnam era, showed the man the door.

But when the boy turned 18, he signed papers to enlist upon graduation. He was in camp the summer of 2002. "9/11 pissed him off," his father said.

Joe Jr. started off as a mechanic, then worked security for convoys in Iraq. "He lost a couple good friends to IEDS," his father said. "When he came back, he decided to be an explosive ordnance detector. He wasn't going to let any of his friends get hurt again. That's how he said it.

"I said, 'You're going to kill your parents.' "

The Schachters have found support from a group called Semper Fi of Central Bucks. The parents bake, buy, and pack food, too. So do old friends like Paul Zavorski, who came along for the ride Thursday.

Inside the VA hospital, they unloaded 20 bakery boxes of schnecken. Earl Johnson, the hospital's volunteer coordinator, said the sweets would go over well on movie nights.

Schachter said he'd see everyone again sometime soon. "I'm going to do it until no guy's in a war anymore."

That's going to take a lot of schnecken.