Dem
47
GOP
53
Once again, a collection of short accounts of wartime service:
J.A. in Austin, TX: Both of my grandfathers served during World War II—my maternal grandfather in the Army, my paternal grandfather in the Navy—and while neither saw combat, both were deployed away from their families during their service. My maternal grandfather's deployment was while my grandmother was pregnant with my mom. He was on guard duty when a telegram arrived, announcing the birth of my mother. Unfortunately, though, the telegram was garbled. It read: "Congratulations! Wou are the father of 7 8 oz. baby girls!" As it turns out, my mother was just ONE 7 lb. 8 oz. baby girl.
J.W. in North Canton, OH: My grandfather had a decidedly different role in World War II. Due to a medical condition (and lack of treatment options at the time), his spine was fused from the base of his skull to his tail bone. His mobility was severely limited. This disqualified him from a combat role, but he was determined to serve. He was stationed stateside during the war and served as a guard at Fort Knox protecting the majority of our country's gold reserves. During this time, Fort Knox also protected some of our country's most important symbols including the U.S. Constitution and Declaration of Independence.
After the war, he started a company distributing industrial products, but eventually morphed the company into a small, but world-class manufacturer. I was so lucky to have the privilege to work with him for almost 15 years prior to his death, and am honored to continue his legacy as the third-generation owner of the business. In his later years, he marveled at how the business had grown and the type of work we took on. He toiled day and night for his family as did so many of the greatest generation. Family, country, business and kindness are his legacy.
As a side note, readers may be interested to know that they can request the military service records of their loved ones here.
J.G. in Star Prairie, WI: My father was the youngest of four brothers, three of whom served in World War II. My uncle Larry served stateside, while my Uncle Howie served on the USS Ward, a World War I-era destroyer. The Ward was on routine patrol outside Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, when a miniature submarine was spotted at 5:00 a.m. The Ward sank the sub and radioed in a report, but the general alarm was not raised. He was on deck later in the war when the Ward was sunk by a kamikaze, jumping into the sea from the rail. He told me they had just offloaded some Marines onto a Pacific island. He was an amateur boxer and fought many organized bouts on the deck of the Ward with other sailors.
My father attended Officer Training School in World War II and became a 1st Lieutenant. He was a drummer in a swing band in high school, so the Army offered to send him through the South to play at bond-drive dances. He told the Army he wanted to stay in the infantry. While in Texas, he was in a "mock up training town" when a young soldier mistook him for a life size mannequin and shot him through the forearm—so ended his drumming career. He left the Army, but in 1950 while in his last year of law school, was called back into the Army under the "inactive officer reserve program." He was sent to Korea and assigned a platoon of Black soldiers. He would talk about the war very rarely. One story he told me was when he lost two soldiers when the enemy crawled into their foxhole at night. His face revealed profound sadness when he recalled that day. He received the Bronze Star for leading a fighting retreat while bringing back wounded. That war affected him greatly. He practiced law in St. Paul, MN, for over 40 years and died in 2013.
J.A. in Forest, VA: I never met my cousin Roy Nilsen. He and his twin brother Walter and their older sisters were half second cousins to my mother. The families were from Norway; Roy and Walter were the first in their family to be born in the United States. My mother's family lived near the Nilsens in Brooklyn, NY, so they saw a lot of each other; Mom was about 5 years younger than the twins.
Roy and Walter were 18 years old when they enlisted in the Coast Guard in 1942. Originally they served aboard the same ship, but one of them (I don't remember if I ever knew which) contracted appendicitis and was moved to a hospital on shore for treatment, so the twins were split up (this happened to brothers throughout the services after the five Sullivan brothers were lost on the light cruiser Juneau in late 1942). By 1943, Roy was serving on the Coast Guard cutter Escanaba, escorting convoys along the east coast to Greenland.
The Escanaba had been built in the early 1930s for service on the Great Lakes, then was shifted from its home port of Grand Haven, MI, to the North Atlantic when the war began. In February 1943, the Escanaba rescued passengers from the torpedoed troop ship SS Dorchester; if you're familiar with the story of the four chaplins who gave their lifejackets to other men, that happened on the Dorchester. Most on the Dorchester died, but the crew of the Escanaba pulled 133 men from the freezing water; for the first time ever, rescue divers wearing survival suits went into the sea to rescue men too far gone to reach for lifelines.
The Escanaba was escorting a convoy of ships through the Labrador Sea from Greenland to St. John's, Newfoundland, when it exploded at 0510 on June 13, 1943. No torpedoes were seen and no U-boats claimed a sinking; the most likely cause was that the ship struck a floating mine. Of 105 officers and men, there were only two survivors, both thought dead when they were pulled from the icy sea. Most of the crew, including 19-year-old Seaman First Class Roy Nilsen, went to the bottom with their ship. His name can be found on the East Coast Memorial at Battery Park, New York City. The city of Grand Haven still holds an annual memorial service for the crew of their lost ship. Walter Nilsen outlived his brother by 60 years and I knew him quite well.
I seem to remember that when the Never Forget items ran last year, one writer mentioned that people really aren't gone so long as there's someone who remembers them. My mother passed away about 3 years ago, outliving her cousin Roy by more than 80 years. She was the last living person who could remember Roy Nilsen, knew what he looked like, the sound of his voice, the subtle differences between the twins. With her passing, the living memory of Roy Nilsen passed as well.
E.S. in Arlington, MA: My dad left his working-class home in San Francisco at 14, and by the time he was 19, he had traveled across the country and back, but he didn't have any idea of what to do next. So he enlisted in the army and got sent to Korea.
My dad was a wonderful man but he was disorganized, clumsy and absent-minded. Even the Army could figure out that giving him a gun was a bad idea. So he spent the war in a freight train, bringing urine samples from hundreds of soldiers back from the front to a laboratory where they could be tested for sexually transmitted diseases (called "VD" at that time). I don't know why the urine samples needed a soldier to escort them to the laboratory but perhaps there was a reason.
My dad eventually got transferred to Japan, where my mom (whom he had married the night before shipping out) joined him. And by the time he was discharged, he had figured out what he wanted to do with his life. He used the G.I. Bill to get his Bachelors at San Francisco State, then again to get his Masters and Doctorate in Political Science at Claremont. He went on to become a full professor at American University, and when he died in 2008, he had just finished another stint in school, getting his Masters in Social Work.
He did a very small but essential job for the country and then the country, through the G.I. Bill, did a great deal for him!
K.P. in Salem, OR: This perhaps is a bit different than the type of story you are looking for. It doesn't directly describe an act of heroism or death, but it does serve as a reminder to me of how lucky I am to even exist.
My father turned 18 in February of 1945. He was classified as 4F due to being legally blind without eyeglasses, yet was convinced he would be drafted anyway. So, he decided to enlist. The Navy turned him down but the Army didn't, so he signed up with them and was trained as a radioman who would be working behind the front lines. After basic training and Army radio operator school he found himself on a troop transport ship in San Diego Harbor. While they were waiting to shove off there was a smattering of small talk, which abruptly turned to silence as the ship's engines revved up moving the ship out into the harbor. As he looked around, the fact that half the guys would likely never make it back to the States became absolutely real.
A few hundred yards out, the ship's engines cut and the captain announced they had been ordered back to shore, where they would await further orders. Nobody thought much about it and assumed the move was an attempt to relieve some of the ship congestion in the harbor. After an hour or so, the captain made another announcement. Something along the lines of "Gentlemen, I have been asked to inform you that the Japanese have surren..." Nobody heard the rest of the announcement, and nobody really cared, since at this point, even if they ended up in Japan, they very likely would return and have the opportunity to get on with their lives.
Thanks to all of you. (Z)