A World War II veteran who stormed the beaches of Normandy on D-Day and went on to survive five gunshots from a German machine-gunner was shot in the back and killed in the basement of his Holladay home Saturday.
    A retired car dealer and cousin to the late Utah auto magnate Gus Paulos [the cousins' Greek surname is spelled differently], Steven Poulos recently had placed a classified advertisement for a 1997 Subaru Legacy in The Salt Lake Tribune and Deseret Morning News.
    His family fears that whoever showed up to look at the car Saturday robbed the 80-year-old Poulos, forced him into his basement and shot him. One neighbor, the family said, reported seeing a man drive away in the car.
    When Stephanie Poulos swung by her parents' house at 2526 E. 4810 South about 12:45 p.m. Saturday, something seemed out of place, she said. The Subaru Legacy was gone. The front door,

which was usually open, was locked.
    Using a spare key to get into the house, Stephanie Poulos noticed her parents' jewelry box was open, its contents strewn about on their bed. Her father was absent. She left and called her sister, who later came by and discovered Poulos in the basement.
    The Salt Lake County Sheriff's Office, however, would neither confirm Steven Poulos had been robbed nor say where on his body they found his fatal wound. They were, however, looking for the car, a 1997 maroon-colored four-door Subaru Legacy, with California license plate 4KOB631.
    "We're not quite sure what the connection is here, but we want to find that vehicle," said sheriff's spokesman Paul Jaroscak.
    At 7:30 p.m. Saturday, as the moon began to rise above the Wasatch mountains, investigators stood huddled in the chilly night, blocked off by their own yellow crime scene tape as they waited for a search warrant.
    The sheriff's office had yet to track down a judge to sign the warrant, allowing them to enter the house and scour the crime scene for clues, Jaroscak said.
    Even Steven Poulos' wife of nearly 47 years, Billie Poulos, was not allowed to go back in the home, she said. Standing near sheriff's office's patrol cars, Billie Poulos was in disbelief that her husband - who narrowly escaped death in 1944 when the cross dangling around his neck deflected the bullet of a German machine-gunner - would take a sixth bullet, in his back, in his own home.
    "This is not the way I expected [he would go]," she said tearfully.
    Proud of his country and his service in the war, Steven Poulos displayed an American flag outside of his home. He was recently interviewed by World War II historian Geoffrey Panos as part of a KUED documentary scheduled to air in March.
    Panos, who edited his two-hour interview with Steven Poulos just Friday night, said the World War II veteran was "really quite a remarkable war hero." He characterized him as "marvelous and warm and animated and delightful."
    In a 2000 interview, Steven Poulos told The Salt Lake Tribune about his experience being shot at in World War II.
    On June 19, 1944, his squad was hiding in a foxhole in Germany. The Germans soon discovered their position and began zeroing in with mortars and machine-gun fire.
    Afraid to remain, Steven Poulos and his comrades retreated but were ordered by their commander to turn around and advance.
    As he and others from his squad leaped over a hedgerow, they spotted a machine-gunner in a tree.
    "My sergeant said, 'There he is. Get him!' and then I bounced back from the hedgerow and felt electricity go through me. I was stunned. It felt like lightning. I didn't know what hit me."
    What hit him were the bullets of the machine gun. One grazed his leg, two pierced his right side, one struck him in the back and another ricocheted off a gold cross he wore on a chain around his neck.
    Steven Poulos' neighbors are outraged that a man who dutifully served his country would die at the hands of another.
    Ralph Love, Poulos neighbor for 21 years, said the 80-year-old was crippled by a stroke in 1991, and often had to hold the right side of his face up so he could speak clearly.
    "Why would someone take advantage of an individual who was so caring of others?" he said.
    His wife, Sherrie Love, who has multiple sclerosis, said Poulos could intuitively sense when she was down. He would give encouraging boosts by complimenting the way she looked, or would simply tell her, "You're doing good."
    "It was a loss for the neighborhood - a loss for society," she said.
    lrosetta@sltrib.com