VET'S DEATH ONLY AN EXAGGERATION.

Byline: DENNIS McCARTHY 

The luau next week at Mary and Dan Tangalakis' house in Woodland Hills will be attended by 25 surviving members of an old World War II amphibious-tank unit, plus one guy they thought hadn't made it back.

That would be Dan, the host.

For the last 53 years, the guys in this unit hoisted a cold one at their reunions to toast their fallen comrade, young Danny Tangalakis, who'd fought bravely with them in retaking many Pacific islands from the Japanese.

The last time the guys saw him, Danny lay on a gurney in the throes of death with a ruptured appendix. He was being dropped off as a medical emergency at a small hospital on a Pacific atoll, while his unit continued on its way to escort the Marines on the landing at Okinawa.

``I remember the last thing he said to me as they were lowering him over the side was, 'If this damn cable breaks, promise you'll jump in and save me,' '' said Paul Lingenfelter, Dan's best buddy in the service.

``It didn't break, but that was the last any of us ever saw of him,'' Paul said. ``We lost track but heard later Danny hadn't made it off that atoll.''

But Dan had. After a few months holed up in the same hospital with Marine casualties from the Iwo Jima campaign, Dan was sent to a military hospital in Honolulu, then to the hospital at the Presidio in San Francisco.

``I finally wound up at Birmingham High, which was a military hospital during the war,'' Dan said Friday. ``By the time I was well enough to be discharged, the war was over.''

Young Danny Tangalakis, 24 at the time, went home like the rest of the men in his unit to start a new life. He became an attorney, married and had five children.

``You know, you have these close bonds with the guys you fought with when you were young, then you go on with life and forget about them,'' said Dan, now 77.

``But as you get older you start thinking about them, wondering what ever happened to them and wishing you could renew that contact again.''

Last year Paul Lingenfelter said the same thing to his grandson in Boulder, Colo., where he now lives.

``I was telling him about the guys in my outfit and what had happened to Danny,'' Paul said. ``He asked me if I ever tried to find him, and I told him no, I thought he had died.

``Damn if the kid doesn't go on the Internet and find him,'' Paul said, laughing.

It's been more than 50 years since anyone's called him Danny, so when the caller on the other end of the line asked if this was Danny Tangalakis, he froze, Dan said.

The guy calling him Danny sure sounded like his old Army buddy, Paul Lingenfelter.

``Danny, where the hell you been?'' Paul asked.

``Been busy living life,'' Danny said, laughing.

When word spread throughout the unit that Danny hadn't died on that atoll after all, the rest of the guys figured it was only fair their ex-dead buddy should host the next reunion, since he'd gotten out of hosting one in his town for more than 50 years.

So, that's what Dan and his wife, Mary, are doing next week - gladly.

Dan's got some great stories to tell the guys, especially about his hospital stay at Birmingham where the medical orderly was a guy named Desi Arnaz.

``He was a bedpan commando,'' Dan says, laughing. ``He wasn't even known then, and his wife, Lucille Ball, was just up and coming.

``She used to come by and visit. She was the loudest woman I ever heard.''

And, of course, there was the time Charles Laughton and Bob Hope stopped by Birmingham to cheer up the troops.

Yeah, for a dead guy, Dan Tangalakis has got some great stories to tell his old Army buddies when he sees them next week.