Salute to Veterans - limaohio.com · here, including World War II, Korea, Vietnam, the Cold War and those currently or recently serving. Stories from veterans, told in their own

Salute to Veterans

Veterans Day 2017

The Lima NewsFriday, Nov. 10, 2017Section E

SALUTE TO VETERANS The Lima News2E Friday, November 10, 2017

The Lima News feels strong-ly that the service of veterans living in this area should be recognized.

This is why this Salute to Veterans section was created and it continues yet today.

This special section honors the many men and women who have served our country in the past or who are cur-rently serving our country.

Stories from all eras are here, including World War II, Korea, Vietnam, the Cold War and those currently or

recently serving. Stories from veterans, told in their own words, are published here along with the photos that they shared. Some stores are serious and tell of horrors of war, and some stories are lighthearted.

For this year’s publication, The Lima News asked veter-ans to share their thoughts on what people are most con-fused or mistaken about con-cerning their time of service.

Visit www.limaohio.com for details.

About this section From Beverly J. Amstutz, of Bluffton

I am the wife of a USAF veteran.

I’ll Take the Old GuysWhite fringed brows holding pre-

cious thoughts of yesterdays.Delicate, tenacious white pillars

foregoing pain, regrets, sorrow, loss.White heads like eagles rising

high above the rest.You old guys have give us the best.

RememberingSome of you still march in the

Legion parades, remembering.Some of you sit reverently near

the speaker, remembering.Some of you remember at the

tombstone of your friend — the camaraderie,

the boyish hopes, the scourge of battle, the fear, the longing.

All of you salute our great flag, remembering.

And we will remember you.

Thank you for your service

From Ralph Ellis

Sometime back, this article was sent to me by an unknown author. I thought this message would be appropriate on Veterans Day.

“It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us freedom of the press.

“It is the soldier, not the poet, who

has given us freedom of speech.“It is the solder, not the campus

organizer, who has given us free-dom to demonstrate.

“It is the soldier who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protester to burn the flag.”

Who protects our freedom?

Thank you

Thank you for serving

Our country and protecting our freedom

Your friends at

HONORING VETERAN’S DAY

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Friday, November 10, 2017 3EThe Lima News SALUTE TO VETERANS

From Terry Baggs, of Lima

My name is Terry Baggs and I am a Vietnam veteran. I served active duty in the U.S. Army from 1967-1969 and spent one year in Vietnam.

I arrived in country on Jan. 12, 1968, just in time for the TET Offensive. During the Tet Offen-sive, Viet Cong military forces con-ducted a series of attacks on cities, towns, government buildings and military bases throughout South Vietnam.

Tet, which is a shortened term for Tet Nyguyen Dan and means the Feast of the First Morning of the First Day, is the Vietnamese New Year. The North Vietnamese began planning the attack in the summer of 1967. Their goal was to force the collapse of the South Vietnamese government, thus end-ing the war. A ceasefire was gener-ally observed during Tet but this year the North Vietnamese military commander, General Vo Nguyen Giap, decided to launch a series of surprise attacks instead.

I had just turned 20 when I arrived in Bien Hoa, Vietnam. After a few days of processing I was trucked off to Chu Lai for jungle warfare training. My base camp had the usual mess hall, ammo dump, latrines and tents. There was a Marine outpost on a hill behind the camp and on one side was the South China Sea. My in-country training consisted mostly of learning about booby traps, jungle conditions and how to survive the next 12 months.

Everyone has his or her own stories and experiences but most of the veterans I know choose to remember some of the more light-hearted moments.

Tet started for me in the very early morning hours while I was asleep in my tent. A fierce barrage of rocket fire began to hit the base camp. Unfortunately none of the newly arrived soldiers had been issued any sort of weapon or gear other than a steel pot (a helmet). The trainers were the only sol-

diers who had weapons. The only thing we had for cover was a 30 foot long row of sand bags. As the rockets and mortar rounds came in, we had to hop like frogs back and forth over the row of sand bags depending on which side the last round landed on. We were so scared that we would be over-run by Viet Cong at any minute. Fortunately, the helicopter crew and mortar company were able to stop the assault, but not before the enemy had rocketed both of the ammunition dumps.

I remember shrapnel raining down all night long. So much so that I picked pieces of shrapnel from my hair and clothes for hours. Needless to say, as soon as it was light I was with my fellow soldiers out on the beach filling sand bags like there was no tomorrow and building some mighty fine bunkers, if I say so myself.

This certainly was not funny at the time but time has a way of mellowing memories and allows me to look back at things like this through a different perspective.

Unlike other wars, when I returned home from Vietnam I

never had anyone other than fam-ily greet me at the airport. The vastly negative view people had of the Vietnam-era soldier was due largely to the fact that there were not the same restrictions on the press in Vietnam as had been in place during other wars. The Viet-nam War was the first televised war which brought the horrors of war and death into every living room every night of the week. The same horrors occur in every war and conflict but until Vietnam, people only knew the Hollywood version of war.

Throughout the past several years, the Vietnam-era veterans have fought to have their service recognized. Fortunately things are changing and the veteran of today is afforded the respect and honor they deserve. I have had the oppor-tunity to speak on Veterans Day at schools and other events and the response from the children is very gratifying. It makes me very hum-ble whenever anyone comes up to me and thanks me for my service.

One event that I had the pleasure of experiencing was the Honor Flight program. I was very fortu-

nate to have been chosen to go on the first Honor Flight for Vietnam veterans who have received the Purple Heart Medal that flew from Columbus last October. This wonderful program allowed me to experience the homecoming I never had and I encourage every veteran to go on one of these flights.

As I age I may forget what I ate for breakfast but my vivid memo-ries of Vietnam remain with me today and will remain forever. I will never forget my friends who served with me and those whose names are engraved on the Viet-nam wall. As a country, we must never allow a veteran to be treated with nothing less than respect and honor ever again.

Memories of Vietnam will always remain

Terry Baggs, in Vietnam.

Terry Baggs, from a Honor Flight he participated in.


From Henry M. “Bud” Amrine, of Lima

Henry M. “Bud” Amrine is now 93. He served with the 262nd Infantry, 66th Black Panther Divi-sion, Intelligence and Recon Pla-toon, rank T-5.

I graduated from high school in 1942 from Milford Center. Then moved to Marysville and was draft-ed in March 1943. I was sent to Camp Blanding in Florida for basic training. They formed a new divi-sion, the 66th Black Panther Divi-sion. I was sent to Fort Benning, Georgia, for radio school and from there we received more training in various camps in the states.

I shipped out from Camp Shanks, New York, in November 1944. I was nine decks below on the USAT George Washington in very cramped conditions. We woke up early morning to see ships as far as the horizon in all directions. We had joined a huge convoy dur-ing the night.

On Nov. 26, 1944, about 3 p.m., we docked at Southampton, England. From there, we took a train to Dorchester, England. We stayed in Dorset barracks. The Battle of the Bulge had begun and we were going to be sent there. We left on two ships. Our sister ship, the Leopoldville, was sunk off Cherbourg, France. We

lost 750 men on Christmas Eve 1944. Badly undermanned, our regiment was sent to Chateau Chalon, headquarters for the Saint-Nazaire sector. Our divi-sion of 15,000 troops were hold-ing back 50,000 German forces. It was a continuous artillery

duel and I was hit in the feet and legs. I spent two weeks in hospitals in France and England and then I was flown back to New York. I spent 10 months in a hospital in Nashville, Ten-nessee. I received a medical dis-charge in October 1945.

From a World War II veteran

This photo was taken Sept. 16, 2017, at the World War II memorial. I was asked by a guard to place this wreath on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

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From Robert “Bob” Bohyer, of Lima

I served 2 1/2 years in the 8th and 15th Air Force during World War II. Shortly after graduating from South High School in Lima, I entered the Air Force at age 18. I never got a furlough. It was a long and lonely time. I had never been away from home more than two or three days.

But I became close to my crew members — 10 of us like a close-knit family. I was the tail gunner on a famous B-17 Bomber named Five Grand. It was covered with auto-graphs over the entire plane because it was the 5,000th B-17 built.

You asked what I think of myths I faced about my service time. I believe sometimes that a few persons may relate it to service time like it is today when service men come home after a tour. In my time, we were fighting a war until the enemy surrendered. My brother was gone for four years. But most people form their own opinions and they have that right. So be it.

And then I believe some feel that the Air Force got all the glory. And we did get our share. So be it. I know when flying a mission I would sometimes look down as the infantry on D Day was hitting the beaches and I thanked God I was not on the ground or in the water.

I flew a tour of 35 missions in the tail of this great B-17 bomber all over Europe. Almost shot down on my third mission over Mannheim, Germany. Two engines shot out and one on fire. Lost about 20,000 feet. My pilot finally pulled our plane out of a dive at 1,000 feet and extin-guished the fire in Nov. 2 engine. All the other planes left us and we had to limp back to England. Kept losing altitude but made it across the Eng-lish Channel and was able to land at our base. Thank God no German fighter finished us off. Found a large hole in the tail where a piece of flak had gone through the tail about a foot about my head. I thought I had heard a loud noise. Ha!

All of our crew came back safely but five of my buddies that lived in our tent were killed when their plane was blown to pieces with flak. It was very hard to gather their belongings together and ship them to their dear ones. Their ages were 18 to 20 years.

For the past seven or eight years Tony, our ball turret operator, and I were the only ones still alive. Tony lived in New York and we saw each other several times over the years. We phoned each other almost every month. Tony just passed away Aug. 22, 2017. I am the only one left out of our 10-man crew. I am 92 yeras old and in good health. I live with my three-pound teacup Yorkie named Ginny.

I’ve said this before but I will say it again. I flew a tour of 35 missions earning the Air Medal with three oak leaf clusters. Seven battle stars, Presidental Unit Cita-tion and attained the rank of staff sergeant. But I still was not old enough to vote. Ha!

The cold stat for bombers in World War II is that the average bombing run suffered 1.5 percent losses. This doesn’t sound so bad until one runs the numbers: 1.5 percent per run means that in 66 missions, the entire air force would be shot down. Every two months, the entire force had to be replaced! The men knew this, but they still climbed into those planes!

Against the odds, we flew

Bohyer, today

This photo shows the tail gunner position on a B-17.

Bohyer, 1945

From Emmie Jo Stimmel

My father, Perry Lillian, was in the Seabees at Pearl Harbor 1943-1944. God bless him and all veterans and active military. Our freedom isn’t free.

Thanks, Dad, for serving

From Mary Squires, of Lima

I myself was never in the military but a lot of my family and friends were and are.

I had an uncle and cousin and brother-in-law who all served in World War II. My husband was in the Korean war. My brother was in Vietnam and my ex son-in-law was in Desert Storm. My daughter served in the Navy and my grandson in law served in Iraq and Afghani-stan. I also have two grandsons who served in the Navy. One of which is currently out to sea on an eight-month deployment.

All of them helped to give us freedom. All took time out of their lives and away from fami-lies to give us our freedom. I am so proud of all of our mili-tary and very thankful for them and their families.

As Americans, we all need to support and appreciate them every day by telling our military “Thank you for your service.”

Thank you. Proud to be an American.

Be sure to say thank you


From Ed Friedrich, of Delphos

I served from May 1955 to May 1957. I am now 82 years old. I was stationed for eight months in Colorado for basic training then sta-tioned in Korea for the remainder of the time. Being at the age of 20 years old, this was quite the experience for me. Living in Korea was so different from the life I had in America. I saw many interesting things while over there.

I feel I am so fortunate to be able to live in America, and I was very proud to serve my country. I am the father of five children, four girls and a boy, and a retired farmer and truck driver.

I’m not sure many people really understand what it is like to be in the service and away from family. It is hard and you live one day at a time and pray you go back home. I just know I am glad that I came home to my family and proud that I served our country.

Proud to serve

Ed Friedrich, during war time. Ed Friedrich with his old uniform.

Ed Friedrich, during war time.

From Wanda Newland, of Elida

During World War II, four of my grandma Coolidge’s sons were called to serve in the United States Army. A fifth son was not sent, as he was married with children. George Emerson Coolidge was the oldest son.

We think Charles Raymond “Ray” Coolidge was probably the first son to be drafted into the United States Army. He served from 1940 to 1944. Serving in Anchorage and Fairbanks, Alaska,

working on the railroad.William Everette “Bill”

Coolidge was drafted into the Army in November 1942. He was earning a total of $57 a month. Bill served with the 11th Armored Division, 63rd Armored Infantry Battalion in the Battle of the Bulge and the Rhineland and Ardennes campaigns. He was awarded the Purple Heart for injuries he received Jan. 1, 1945, at the Battle of the Bulge.

Westminster Coolidge boys served proudly

See COOLIDGE | 9E

From Jennifer M. McGue

A Veterans Day tribute to Craig McGue, a 41 year old Army first sergeant, currently serving. He is

deployed to Kuwait with the 371st sus-tainment brigade, based out of Spring-field, Ohio. Craig has been serving his country for 25 years as of December 2017. Craig McGue

is the son of Scott McGue, a Lima native, brother of April Buck, Lorrie McGue, Summer McGue, Scott Gross and Melissa Hesser all of whom reside close

to the Lima area. Craig McGue is married to his wife Jennifer McGue of 20 years, has sup-ported and embraced his military career, and has been by his side every step of the way. Together Craig and Jennifer have three beautiful children, Brooklyn, 19, Ava, 12, and Colton, 6.

Ronald Reagan once said, “Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a differ-ence in the world.” First sergeant McGue has never had that prob-lem. From the time McGue was a little boy, joining the Army was the only thing he ever wanted to do.

Serving for nearly 25 years

Craig McGue

See SERVING | 8E

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From Becky Dershem

This article is written to share the very special friendship that happened by chance when a teacher assigned her students a project to support our troops in an unpopular war. The soldier’s wife recounts how the relationship unfolded.

Looking back, all you can say is: “Who would have thought it?” That is how a very special group of people defined the extraordinary friendship they developed that all started with one elementary teacher telling her students they could make a difference and one “Mail Call.”

During the Vietnam conflict, an eighth grade English teacher, Anna Margaret Ruland from Coshocton, encouraged her class to write let-ters to soldiers who were stationed far away from home. Ruland began forwarding those letters to a group of soldiers stationed in Vietnam by way of local military support organizations. That group of letters landed in the hands of the Army’s 1st Cavalry, B2 5 group stationed in the Vietnam countyside.

While a number of soldiers received a letter from one of Ruland’s students, only a sparse few replied and only ONE devel-oped into a long-term friendship. It was 1967 and the whole idea of America’s involvement in Viet-nam was not being well received back home. Anti-war protests were very commonplace, and the soldiers were well aware of it. A daily radio show, “The Adrian Cronauer Show” began each and every morning with the infamous sign-on: “Gooood Morning, VIET-NAAAM!!!!!!” and featured a very irreverent and non-conformist deejay who was very consistent in blasting out the old “sterile” environment on the air waves for some quick humor and a dig or two at the brass in charge. The GI’s loved him. His show and the letters from home were the saving grace for the young men being forced to fight in an unpopular

war. Being so unpopular, it was a challenge to write about what you were doing every day, knowing those very efforts would be inter-preted as voluntary participation in that unpopular conflict …. as if they had a choice!

That one soldier who found a way to write back time after time was Staff Sgt. Donald E. Dershem. Dershem recalled walking past the mail processing area and was asked if he wanted a few kids in Ohio to write to. At first, he said no, because he had enough people to write to as it was. After walking about four or five steps, he turned around and said, “Okay, give me a couple.” The kids’ teacher, Ruland, wrote an introductory letter to Dershem. In that letter, the teacher thanked him for writing to her students and also thanked him for serving his country.

She was a school teacher and an English teacher, of all people. Dershem never considered himself the greatest student and thought of English as one of his worst subjects. What was he going to do now?, he recalled thinking. He knew his mother would expect him to send a reply. He recalled saying to himself: “But Mom, this is an ‘English’ teacher, I did mention that, didn’t I?” Dershem recalled writing her back and began by telling her that English was one of his weakest points, but if she

would overlook all his mistakes, then he would continue writing the students. He laughed when he thought about the number of cards and letters the two shared over the 46 years they knew each other, “but bless her heart, she never graded any of my papers, and I’ll be doggone, she kept writing me,” he said.

While a crowd of soldiers would gather around the Jeep for Mail Call, it was a regular occurrence that Staff Sgt. Dershem would be receiving not one but several let-ters from home. You see, Dershem joined the Army after losing his father when he was 7 years old and his mother when he was 22 years old. He had one brother and truly thought he would not return from this conflict alive.

While his parents were gone, he had garnered a wide swath of emo-tional support from a number of family and friends who were also very committed to letter writing and the “as often as possible” ship-ment of homemade cookies. So, if it was a bundle of letters or a box of homemade goodies, Dershem was always the envy of many long-ing eyes at mail call.

He recalled telling other soldiers over and over, “Come on, people … you have to write letters to get letters

back!” He related that Anna Ruland, like a number of others, became a mother to him also. Even when writ-ing became difficult for her in the later years, she never missed a birth-day card or a holiday note. These messages were a priority.

Many of Dershem’s fellow sol-diers would verify that pen and paper were always a part of his gear. He could be seen almost anywhere writing another letter in response to one he had received. His reputa-tion for writing thank-you notes was well known as well. The grati-tude that poured from his pen only enticed the recipient to write more or get another care package ready for him. And so it began.

The student pen pal, Helen Sayre, began to receive letters from far away, which she really never thought would happen. Her teacher, Ruland, also began getting her own letters. As a teen-ager, the student maintained her communication with Dershem for over 10 years. Dershem kept the letters and his appreciation for that “home connection” while stationed so far away. Ruland had become a much more consistent connection for Dershem during his military assignment.

Military pen pal leads to lifelong friendship

The pen pal trio met years after Vietnam.

Staff Sgt. Don Dershem

See FRIENDSHIP | 8E


Once Dershem finished his Vietnam duty and returned, he continued to write Ruland, sharing birthday cards and holiday letters for the next 46 years. Dershem’s letters and notes were always fol-lowed by a written response from the teacher, who had gone on to retire and move to Columbus to be closer to family. The annual holiday cards/letters and birthday cards continued to arrive for both of them year after year. She would complain about how her penmanship had suffered over the years, and he would compliment her on being able to read his writing at all. Dershem’s penmanship was a unique blend of what family and friends came to describe as “chicken scratch printing.” Nonetheless, the notes and cards continued and became a special event with each arrival.

During her time in Columbus, Dershem decided he would travel to meet this long term friend, Ruland. He knew that it was time to really get to know this special person behind the pen. After nearly 40 years of writing they finally met, and you could tell immediately there was a bond that had been solidified by those many years of paper and ink. Dershem began to visit Ruland on a more regu-lar basis, visiting several times a year, while main-taining their pen pal exchange as well. On several occasions, Dershem would ask about the one stu-dent who had written him the longest. Ruland knew that the student had gotten married and moved from the Coshocton area. When her health required her to be placed in a nursing home, Dershem began to search more intently for the long-time student pen pal. Only now, he had a tool called the internet to help him find her. He was determined to find her now, too. Through Facebook, he was able to find his student pen pal, who was now married and living in the Akron area.

Without much hesitation, the former soldier and the student pen pals agreed to meet in Columbus and visit the teacher who had started it all. They met in the parking lot of the nursing home on a cool spring Sunday afternoon and the two of them had a lot to share. There were marriages, children and careers that they began to explore. As they walked in to see Ruland in her room, the three of them appeared almost overwhelmed with the moment they were all experiencing. Ruland’s daughter, Susan, and Don’s wife just watched as they relived and re-energized their long-standing relationship, sharing lots of smiles and laughter. It was clearly evident just how much the relationship had meant to all of them.

As the teacher’s health continued to decline, the visits required the assistance of Ruland’s daughter, Susan, to coordinate the best days and times. And the relationship continued for a couple of years with the meeting of these long term pen pals in the teacher’s nursing home.

The teacher passed away in July 2013. Meanwhile, Dershem maintained his pen and paper relationship with the student and Ruland’s daughter, Susan. Clear-ly, the friendship bonds and respect for each other were continuing on in the teacher’s honor.

In September 2016, Dershem passed away after a long illness with ties to his time in Vietnam. And yet, the holiday cards and letters continue. The Facebook connections are there as well. Today, three women who might not have had a reason to know each other continue to write each other acknowl-edging a very important friendship that all started with a teacher asking a student to write a letter to a soldier they didn’t know who was far from home serving their country.

In an email to Ruland’s daughter about one month after Anna’s passing, Dershem wrote: “Over your life time, God blesses you with some special people. I have been truly blessed and one of my special peo-ple was Anna Margaret Ruland. I hope she is still keeping an eye on me now, she knows I need it … and I hope once again she doesn’t grade my paper!”

From page 7E

Friendship

When McGue was just 17 years old, his mother Theda Gunnell, and his father Scott McGue, would make the hard decision to sign the papers to let their son join the United States Army. To date, their son has done nothing more than make them proud. McGue is very humble.

As the first sergeant, McGue is the senior enlisted person in 371st Sustainment Brigade. His job is to work closely with the company com-mander to ensure the unit is trained, proficient and motivated. McGue’s duties are endless.

America is eternally blessed for the presence of men like McGue, who believe liberty is always worth fighting for. Men who believe in duty, honor and country will always be an inspiration to our nation. Thank you so much for your service and for imparting upon us the patrio-tism so vital to being a citizen of the United States of America.

It’s a true honor and blessing to have such incredible protectors in our military. Your service makes the world a better place, keeps our nation a strong beacon of hope in freedom and democracy, and those around you inspired and forever in awe of all that you do and continue to do. Thank you.

Just a thank you does not explain the gratitude that we have for each and every man and woman that has served this nation in the Armed Forces. Thank you for all that you have done, and continue to do. We cannot fathom the amount all of the men and women have sacrificed for our great nation. Our prayers go out to you every day. Thank you for mak-ing us proud to be an American.

McGue has shown dedication to his country. By his continued service, from front lines in wartime to his vol-unteered time to the public service, his service will be forever be appreci-ated. We remember today, Veterans Day, freedom is not free, and he is willing to pay the ultimate price for his country, including being away from his family, and the endless dan-gers he faces when being deployed. He is a true hero.

From page 6E

Serving

From Dillon Staas Jr.

When Jesus Takes Us Home

When all the soldiers have gone home and all the battles won,

We find the tear-drops still must

flow. The suffering’s just begun.For in our hearts and in our

minds the memories remain,

And every time they come to mind the pain begins again

Although these many years have passed there dwells within our heart

The visions of our long lost friends. Once more the teardrops start.

A verse, a song, a photograph sometimes is all it takes,

Evoking thoughts of distant past, our hearts, so sorely ache.

Searching for a haven here, ‘til

we grow old and weak;A place divine where soldiers

find the comfort that they seek.Someday soon will come a day,

the last of us will die.The Lord will come and take

us to his mansion in the sky.And there we’ll find the peace

of mind, more than we’ve ever known.

We’ll meet again, our long lost friends when Jesus takes us home.

A veteran remembers with poetry

Dillon Staas Jr.


From Pastor Earl March

I served in the U.S. Army from August 1967 until August 1970. I will admit I didn’t want to go but I did and served proudly.

I graduated in June 1967, and August I was going into the mili-tary. I had every intention of mak-ing a career or getting into college through the military. But when I returned from Vietnam, I saw the way that we were being treated when we returned — the govern-ment as well as the military — and it just put a bad taste in my mouth. So I just distanced myself from both. We came back to an ungrate-ful country that didn’t want any-thing to do with us.

I have people now that would ask me about the war. It doesn’t bother me as much now as it used to. As a matter of fact, I will going to Cleve-land to speak at their Veterans Day program. Now keep in mind, I didn’t talk about it for years. To be exact, it was from August 1970 until February 2006 when I started to open up about it.

I give thanks for Dr. Perez at the VA Center in Florida, where I used to live. She started me on my breakthrough. Then Brenda at the Lima CBOC on Bellefontaine Avenue. She really helped me, also.

I lost some friends over there in Vietnam. To this day, I wonder why I made it back and they didn’t.

The thing that really helped me is when I got into the ministry and counseling young people. I have an objective now since I started preaching. This has really helped me to stay focused and not well on my past so much. I am dedicated to preaching and helping young people.

I tell people that I still dream about the war on an average of five to six days out of the week. One thing that I found is that you can’t tell someone such as myself who has been in a war zone that you will forget this. Number one, your past will always be there. It’s how you deal with it. That makes the difference.

I’m going to close now, but let me say this. My best friend is a white guy that flew on the same helicopter at times together. I rotated back to the states before David did. I found out that he was shot down in a helicopter and died. I still have this guilt that I wasn’t there for him. The average Vietnam veteran today doesn’t see color — we are brothers to the end. There are a few that wants to separate black and white. The only color that we saw in the war was green.

My Vietnam experience

Harry “Dean” Coolidge entered the Army at Fort Rucker and became a paratrooper. He was sent to Okinawa. At some point, his paratrooping duties caused him to break his leg. I do not know what year he entered the Army or what year he was discharged.

I believe James Coolidge Jr., “Junior,” was the last of the Coolidge boys to be drafted as he entered Fort Hayes sometime in 1945 and was discharged in France sometime in 1946. His job as a heavy duty

mechanic. He was a Tech 5. He received a World War II occupation medal and a Victory medal.

During the war, there were four flag decals displayed in the window of our Grandmother Coolidge’s Westminster home. After Bill was wounded, Grandma received a fifth flag for her win-dow. I think this was to show that someone had been wounded.

I have more information on the 11th Armored Division as I am the daughter of Bill Coolidge. I was blessed to have Ray, Dean, James and Emerson as my uncles.

The 11th Armored Division was activated on Aug. 15, 1942. The division conducted numerous

training operations stateside before deploying to England in 1944. Once in England, the division continued to train for the wear against Ger-many until December 1944. On the 17th of that month, the 11th landed in the European Theater of Opera-tions at Normandy, France.

Just six days after arriving in France, the 11th Armored Divi-sion entered combat. The German Ardennes offensive had changed their orders and the 11th was attached to General Patton’s 3rd Army. The division advanced over 400 miles in just four days in prep-aration of driving the Germans back. Their advance took them into Belgium where they fought

the Germans for the first time on Dec. 30. At the beginning of May, the 11th Armored and 3rd Army had driven the German Army into Austria and were poised to finish them off when Germany surren-dered.

The 11th Armored Division spent 96 days in combat.

My father returned home after spending many months in the mili-tary hospitals. He was discharged from the hospital on Aug. 3, 1945. He returned home from England on the Queen Elizabeth. He told us how happy he was to see the Statue of Liberty.

This is my tribute to my dad and his brothers. Our family is blessed.

From page 6E

Coolidge

THANK YOUFOr serviNg OUr cOUNTrY

40925306OH-70011730T


From Serge Ladd, of West Leipsic

Jeannie (Ladd) RohrsHomefrontOur only sister Jeannie, (like

millions of other women left behind during war, wives, sweet-hearts, mothers, etc.) was our life-line to home. Mom had a long-time health problem so Jeannie became not just a sister, but a surrogate mother. She sent cards, letters, gifts and a subscription to the hometown newspaper to the three of us.

Jeannie died of breast cancer at the age of 43 (she looked 23) leaving three young sons, 10, 11 and 13, and her husband Frank. Jeannie will always remain young in our memories. We would like to thank Jeannie and all other women who made life better for all the men and women in uniform. They did their utmost to bring the men and women’s morale to the highest level, and they succeeded. Thanks Jeannie. We love you and miss you.

Serge LaddNavyMy occupation as a signalman

on the Nickel Plate Road came to a temporary halt when I joined the Navy on Oct. 9, 1951. My basic training was in San Diego, Cali-fornia. When completed the Navy sent me to electrical school. Then I was assigned to the destroyer the USS James E. Kyes, based in Long Beach, California. This ship made

three trips to Korea.Overseas our port was Yokohama,

Japan. We would leave Japan and patrol the coast of Korea, along with other destroyers, aircraft car-riers and other types of ships. In 1952 our ship was hit by enemy fire wounding several of my shipmates.

These men were airlifted by heli-copter to a hospital ship in Japan, while we returned to Japan for repairs. When my enlistment was over in October 1955, I returned to work for the Nickel Plate Road retiring with a total of 45 years. My place of birth was in West

Leipsic, Ohio, and I still live there with my wife Doris. We raised a daughter, Becky, and son, Lance.

Donald LaddAir ForceDon enlisted in the Air Force on

Oct. 15, 1951, and re-enlisted for a total of 10 years. He took basic training at Sampson Air Force Base, N.Y. His tour of duty took him to Kessaler Air Force Base, Mississippi, Williams Air Force Base, Arizona, Hickman Air Force Base, Hawaii, and Adair Air Force Base, Oregon.

Don got out of the Air Force in

1961. He hired out to the city of Scio, Oregon, and stayed there until his retirement. Don was born in West Leipsic, Ohio. He and his wife Kathy raised two sons and a daughter. Donald is gone now.

Robert LaddArmyBob enlisted in the Army on

Nov. 27, 1951, for three years. He was working for Sylvania Electric Co. in Ottawa at the time. Bob had his basic training at Fort Jackson, S.C.

After his training he was sent to Korea. His tour of duty was for one year. While there he engaged in combat with the communist North Koreans, earning the Combat Infantryman badge, Korean Ser-vice Medal with two Bronze Ser-vice Stars, U.N. Service Medal and National Defense Service Medal. From Korea, Bob was sent to Fort Blair in Washington, D.C., with the honor guard, then to Fort Myers, Virginia, and became a driver for Army officers at the Pentagon. One of the officers was Gen. Omar Bradley.

When Bob’s enlistment was up on Nov. 26, 1954, he returned to his job at Sylvania, later hiring on as brakeman for the Nickel Plate Road and retired as a conductor. Bob was born in West Leipsic, Ohio, and lived in Paulding. He and his wife Marilyn raised a fam-ily of two daughters and a son. He was 83 when he died.

Tales of three Ladds and a lassie

World War II-era photos of the Ladd siblings.

School-era photos of the Ladd siblings.

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From Will Cook, of Wapakoneta

I served in 5th Armored Divi-sion, World War II, January 1945. After retiring, I became editor of The Victory Divi-sion News, a journal of the 5th Armored Division veterans of World War II. The following story was published in such.

The soldiers of Uncle Sam’s 5th Armored Division don’t mind knocking off Nazis, but they’re sorry, that their “dream girl” turned out to be such a heel that they finally blasted her out of their lives with machine guns.

“The war’s really getting rough,” said one hard-boiled Yank sergeant, “when you have to liq-uidate babes as beautiful as that one. I’m glad we got rid of her — if we did — but I can’t get her out of my head.”

Neither can a lot of other GIs who remember her nocturnal strolls in the German town of Wallendorf, just across the river from Luxembourg. They weren’t allowed to fraternize with Nazi civilians, but they could look — and their dream girl was an eyeful.

The first time they saw her, she came out the back door of a farm-house. She was dressed in a filmy white outfit. At a distance she looked like a ghost, but through binoculars she was solid, in the technical and colloquial sense of the word. In the moonlight her long, blond hair fell about her shoulders like spun silver.

She walked alone, and didn’t seem to be quite sure where she wanted to go. The flashes of Yank artillery and machine guns didn’t seem to bother her. She drifted through a shell-pocked field, back and forth, forward and backward. Now and then she stopped.

Before she vanished inside the farmhouse, the Heinies were dropping shells so close to the American position that the boys forgot all about the charms of their local pin-up girl.

The next night, about twilight,

she appeared again and went through the same seemingly aim-less maneuvers. This time she circled silently to the south. She seemed uncertain of where she wanted to stop.

The boys were making some salty cracks about what the girl was up to, and how charmed they’d be to meet her socially, when an officer from headquar-ters arrived at the front line “on the double.”

“Where’s that woman, now?” he shouted.

A machine gunner pointed her out to the officer, who watched her through his glasses, and seemed as interested in the Nazi gun flashes as in the dream girl.

She took a dozen steps to the left. The next bunch of Nazi shells struck further to the left — close to a bridge with a string of American tanks and trucks mov-ing over it.

Then the figure in ghostly white drifted forward a dozen paces, and the shells fell a little deeper into the Yank position.

“Damned clever, these Ger-mans,” the officer muttered — and then he tapped the man at the nearest machine gun on the shoulder.

“Al right, “ he said, “let her have it.”

“But …”

“No buts about it. That dame is spotting us for the German artillery back in the hills. Her movements, which they can see through their glasses, tell them whether to swing right or left, elevate or lower their guns. We can’t afford to have that baby around any longer. Give it to her!”

The machine gun chattered and little puffs of earth sprung up around the woman in white. For a dramatic instant she held her ground. The next burst, studded with the fiery streaks of tracer bullets. almost ripped the shoes off her feet. Then she ran for a patch of woods.

The gunner didn’t like the idea of banging away at an unarmed woman, but he had his orders and kept his sights trained on her misty figure. Just before she reached the edge of the woods she stumbled and fell, but she scrambled to her feet and, half running, half crawling, finally dis-appeared in the dark shadow cast by the trees.

A platoon of Yanks made their way cautiously across the open space and searched the woods for an hour. They found no Nazis male or female.

“Maybe,” said one infantryman with a puzzled look on his face, “she was a dream girl, at that.”

A full report of the incident was made to the American com-mander on that part of the fight-ing front. And though it is his policy to kill as few civilians as possible, he gave orders to shoot anyone — man, woman or child — who goes in for such antics as the woman in white.

“The lives of my men,” he said, “come first. If civilians are inspired or ordered, to help the Nazis, they rate as combatants in my book and they’ll be knocked off, just as though they were in uniform.,”

The boys have their orders to take no more chances with women who wander around No Man’s Land.

Will Cook

The dream ghost lady at WallendorfFrom Janet Thiesing, of Lima

I’m writing about my hus-band, Ronald Thiesing.

After graduation in 1944, he enlisted in the Navy dur-ing World War II. He was sent to University of Wisconsin to learn to be a radioman, “short wave” style.

From there to serve on the Destroyer Cadmus DD-832. They patrolled the Atlantic coast from Boston to the Panama Canal, looking for sub-marines.

From the canal to the Pacific Ocean, on to Japan. From Tokyo to Nagasaki, and sent to shore to deliver a special mes-sage in Nagasaki. While there he borrowed a Jeep and drove to where the atom bomb had been dropped. He followed a bulldozer across the devastated ground, where he saw lots of piles of white powder. The driv-er of the bulldozer said, “Those used to be people.”

After he served two years, he was discharged and came home to Lima and married his high school sweetheart — me, Janet Percy.

Three years later, he was called back during the Korean War to become a radio techni-cian. He served 15 months, then discharged to “stay.”

We’re both now 91 and been married 70 years. We have a son, Mark, and a daughter, Marcia. Wow!

To Nagasaki and back again


From DeBow Freed, of Ada

Military veteran backgrounds, experiences and results of their service vary substantially.

DeBow Freed grew up, milked and worked daily on a family farm in Tennessee. He went to West Point, where he graduated in three years at age 20. He served overseas for seven-plus years as an infantry officer in the 26th, 32nd and 35th Infantry Regiments of the 1st, 7th and 25th Army Divisions in Japan, Germany, Korea, Vietnam, Iran and the Middle East, and was aide and assistant to the commander of the 17th Airborne Division in the U.S. and to the head of the U.S. Advisory Mission to Iran and the Middle East. He graduated from the Infantry School, Army Com-mand and Staff College, Air War College, earned a masters degree from the University of Kansas and Ph.D. from the University of New Mexico. He was chief of the nuclear branch of the Defense Atomic Support Agency and later was assigned to West Point to help modernize the physics department and initiate an academic major in nuclear engineering.

He married Catherine Moore, daughter of an Army physician and Phi Beta Kappa graduate of the University of Texas. She was a highly supportive wife and also a church and community leader and teacher at nearby colleges wher-ever they lived. She essentially managed 10 family moves during their 23 years of active duty mili-tary service.

The Freeds greatly enjoyed military service but believed they could make additional contribu-tions in private church related higher education as part of their commitment to lifelong public service. They decided to leave the Army to fulfill their commitment of lifelong public service through

church related colleges and univer-sities.

Dr. Freed became Dean/Provost of Mount Union University in Ohio for five years; President of Mon-mouth College in Illinois for five years; President of Ohio Northern University in Ada for 20 years; and President of the University of Findlay for seven years, a total of five years as a college dean/provost and 32 years as college or university president. Observers note that all of the institutions the Freeds served prospered under his leadership and her prominent role in college, church and community matters.

One of the Freeds’ goals was to positively influence the lives of fac-ulty, staff and students with whom they were associated. He presented

diplomas to over 20,000 graduates of the institutions they served, may of whim would become teachers, engineers, pharmacists, physicians, attorneys and leaders in our society. He and Mrs. Freed knew many of them personally. Mrs. Freed was especially effec-tive as a role model for students; entertained 2,000-3,000 students, faculty, staff, parents and alumni, community members and univer-sity guests annually; and worked with others in campus events and campus beautification. In keeping with their student orientation and high regard for the educational process, the Freeds visited student

residence halls with exam treats for students the night before first final exam each term.

A room was dedicated to them at West Point in 2012 and they are included in the book, “West Point Leadership, Profiles of Courage,” which has an article on 180 West Point graduates since its founding who were chosen to be included. The Freeds are characterized as having made outstanding contribu-tions to our society. The text notes that the college and universities they served prospered greatly from their leadership and service.

From milking in the morning to dedicated room, honors at West Point

DeBow Freed, Army Infantry Officer, 1978.

DeBow Freed, high school graduation from Gallatin High School, Gallatin, Tennessee, 1943.

DeBow Freed, cadet at West Point, 1946.

DeBow and Catherine Freed at Ohio Northern University when he was president there.

Catherine Freed, mid-career.

DeBow Freed, late career.

See HONORS | 13E


Observers at Findlay noted that Dr. Freed was usually on campus by 7 a.m., spent much of every day with students, faculty and staff in their place of work or study. He was highly active until he left his last presidency two months before his 86th birthday. He is now 92 years old and active daily.

Dr. Freed credits his late wife, Catherine, for many of their opportunities to serve, which they cherished, and for her great contri-butions in their military and higher education service. She passed away in 2016. Their son, Dr. DeBow Freed II, an outstanding scientist, died of the effects of cancer in 2014.

Currently, Dr. Freed is President Emeritus of Ohio Northern Univer-sity and the University of Findlay, has an office on each campus, and lives in Ada.

Military taught life lessonsFrom Jeff Poling, of Cridersville

My name is Jeff Poling, and I’m a United States Army veteran. I served from 1988 to 1990 as a refueler at Camp Casey in South Korea, where my job was to make sure fuel got to the right place at the right time. Then in 1991, I was called back for another tour, this time to a Texas base during Operation Desert Storm. It wasn’t long until I was overseas where I worked again as a refueler.

I joined the military because I was young and looking for a chance to grow up and become indepen-dent. I also loved my country. Serv-ing in the Army would allow me to travel, see the world, be in charge of my own path and receive an education. It was the perfect choice for me. I learned more than I ever could have imagined, and the les-sons have carried over to my career and day-to-day life — and they’re as applicable now as ever.

In the military, my eyes were opened to different ways of doing things to achieve a common goal. I learned about working toward the same purpose while facing a lot of adversity and handling many different personalities. I learned about the importance of time management, organization and meeting strict deadlines. I learned about the world around me and how to embrace and overcome dif-ferences. And most of all, I learned about teamwork. Each of us has the potential to achieve something

great as an individual, but the mili-tary showed me that we achieve a lot more if we work together — in other words, it’s not always about the individual. It’s about how well people can come together, respect each other’s differences, and become united for one cause. The real world is just like this.

This experience has been an integral part of my post-military career. I have spent the last 20 years in the banking and finance industry because it gave me an opportunity to get to know people, hear their stories and help them make their lives better. I’ve been with Huntington Bank for almost eight years as a personal banker at our main branch in downtown Lima. This job allows me to lis-

ten, advise and ultimately help people from all backgrounds with their financial needs and make their dreams a reality, such as financing an adoption or college education. My mission is to put myself in their shoes, treat them with respect and dignity, and lend a helping hand — and I couldn’t enjoy that opportunity more. To help my customers the most, I’ve

learned it takes a lot of teamwork with my colleagues across many parts of the bank. If we work together to come up with solutions for our customers, everybody wins.

Thanks to my military service, I’ve been able to translate the skills I learned in the Army to help people improve their lives throughout my career. Nearly 30 years after my tours of duty, I remain forever grateful.

Jeff Poling, 1988-89 Seoul, Korea

Jeff Poling today

From page 12E

Honors

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VeteransDan & Noah Gallagher www.gethsemanilima.com

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From Frank Guerrero

My name is Frank Guerrero. I am a Marine and soldier that would like to share a story from my military service. My call to service began in the Marine Corps during the Vietnam War from 1969 to 1972. I then served in the Army National Guard where I would eventually retire as a staff sergeant.

As young Marines leaving for Vietnam, we rode a bus to an air base that had wired fencing on the windows. On our trip we had to drive through many protests and demonstrations against our par-ticipation in Vietnam. This part of my story you may have heard from many others like myself who served in Vietnam. How can we tell so many that we were doing our job? In the midst of the yelling from pro-testers we were just trying to tell them this with loud voices to reach

them: We are doing our job.As we were preparing for take-

off on the plane, we were handed Bibles and given a prayer. To my ears this prayer felt more like our last rites. While en route to Oki-nawa, Japan, we almost crashed. Upon our arrival we were placed on a naval ship — the USS Iwo Jima. For the duration of our mis-sion we provided support for our deployed with trips across the coast of Vietnam. When we finally left Vietnam, it was March 1971 but we would not be able to make our final trek home until July.

After everything that we saw while there, one would think we would be quite ready to come home but we were more afraid of what we were coming back to. Stories from many friends that had returned home before us had painted a pic-ture of anger, hatred and disregard; of people looking upon us like

aliens from another planet, spitting and screaming at us. Simple things like grabbing a beer to welcome each other home were being denied by people who did not like that we had been sent to do our job. Hear-ing about the reception of us return-ing home, of the treatment we would possibly receive had me sick at heart. Two of my close friends from Findlay had paid the ultimate sacrifice in Vietnam.

My journey home was a long one. The looks we received when we landed in San Franciso that

would follow us were the looks that we were warned about. After we were loaded onto the plane to head back to Ohio, our departure was delayed due to another plane about to crash land on the runway. Because of the delay, some friends and I were just anxious to get back home. We were going to get off the plane and ride a bus. Thankfully we were talked out of the potential cross-country ride.

A life of service

Michael GuerreroJesse Guerrero

See SERVICE |15E

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Coming home was an adjust-ment. It’s impossible to properly say how long it takes to get back to a normal life. There are times even now that I can talk about what I’ve seen over there and there are just some stories and horrors I will never share with an audience. I’ve had my good days and my bad.

One of those good days, with many more to follow, was meeting my wife when I returned from Viet-nam. With marriage and children leading to a gaggle of grandchil-dren, I had never reflected on other effects that could arise from my time over there. Until I was diag-nosed with cancer in 2014 from my exposure to Agent Orange.

This was a battle I had never antic-ipated. I have heard that this was a common side effect to handling the substance but never had I imaged that I would become a part of the harrowing statistic. I did not know that I had handled Agent Orange

until this point. With all the twists and turns in life I have experienced I have lived a long and fulfilling life. If it was my time to leave this world, I would go at peace. My family had some pretty strong opinions on this, leading to a string of doctors’ appointment and radiation therapy.

Weight loss, fatigue and tempo-rarily losing my voice were a few of the many challenges my body had to go through the fight this. It was a fight well fought as I got a 100 percent clean bill of health in the spring of 2016. While I may be

in remission and was just cleared again by my doctor for this year, I can say that even more I feel blessed. I have a large family who is encouraging me to continue fighting and some of that family have also heard their call to duty.

A son who served in the Marines and six grandchildren who have served and/or currently are serv-ing: Pfc. Michael Guerrero (USMC, son), Spc. Allisen Reichelderfer (Army National guard, grand-daughter), Cpl. Jesse Guerrero

(USMC, grandson), Senior Airman Melodie Giddens (USAF Reserves, granddaughter), Airman First Class Lyndsay Mulholland (USAF, grand-daughter), Petty Officer 3rd Class Angelina Mulholland (USN, grand-daughter), Recruit Justus Guerrero (Army National Guard, grandson).

I will fight to keep my good health but also to see what the future holds. More grandchildren, great-grandchil-dren, the possibilities are endless. My story has not been finished.


Lyndsay Mulholland and Angelina Mulholland

Frank Guerrero

Allisen Reichelderfer

From George H. Cox, of Spencerville

Ralph was the oldest of the three Hydaker boys who joined the Nation-al Guard in Spencerville. Ralph was 19 years old, and his brothers Walter, 17, and Vernon, 15, were activated into Company F, 2nd Infantry Divi-sion in Spencerville. All three of the Hydaker boys were sent to Dayton during the great flood there in 1913. All three of them also served in the Mexican border war.

Ralph served as first sergeant, Walter as mechanic and Vernon as supply sergeant. It was Vernon who made a career out of the military. Vern served in World War II and was highly decorated as an infantry unit commander, 148th Infantry Regiment, 37th Division, Northern and Southern Solomon Islands Cam-paign and Italian Campaign, Combat

Infantryman Badge, Silver Star, July 13, 1943; New Guinea and Solomon Island, Bronze Star Medal; Aug. 3, 1943, first oak leaf cluster, Nov. 8, 1943, second oak leaf cluster July 3, 1944, all for Guadalcanal, Bougain-ville and Solomon Islands. Asiatic-Pacific Theater Campaign Medal with two Bronze Stars. European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal with one Bronze Star, 1944. American Defense Service Medal and World War II victory medal. For his service to our great country, Col. Vernon Hydaker was inducted into the Ohio Military Hall of Fame on May 5, 2017.

Walter served as the Lima Fire Department chief for many years after his service for his country. Ralph had a car agency for a while during the Great Depression and finally settled down as a farmer in

the Kossuth area. All three of the Hydaker veterans loved to play Legion baseball in their youth and loved to fish and hunt after their service for our great country, many

times traveling to North Dakota to do so. All three of the Hydaker vet-erans are remembered with a brick in the beautiful Spencerville Area Veterans Memorial Park.

The Hydaker boys from Spencerville

Walter, Vernon and Ralph Hydaker

From page 14E

Service

LAND OF THE FREE,

home of the brave.This Veterans Day, we hold the courageous men and women who served this country in our hearts and offer our deepest gratitude. Thank you to those who have defended

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Courtesy of wife Joan M. LotisGranddaughter Kylie Archer visit with grandfather Al “Pappy” Lotis, a disabled Vietnam veteran, at Shawnee Manor. With love and appreciation on Veterans Day.

Sounds of silence Korea: Telling the storyFrom Bill Moore, of Lima

I sometimes wonder just how much is really taught in our schools today about our nation’s involvement in wars during the past 70-some years. While World War II changed the world in so many ways, the impacts of Korea and Vietnam almost seem to get shoved under the rug. A World War II veteran would have to be near 93 years old today, so that leaves Korea and Vietnam veter-ans the job of “patching in” their events and experiences to help folks understand how these wars impacted our lives in this coun-try today.

It is regrettable and somewhat strange today for me to hear and read so much in the news about Korea. How such concerns today will turn out is still at this juncture still to be determined. Hopefully we will not find grandchildren of my generation

again in conflict in the Land of the Morning Calm.

I served in Korea for a year in 1952-53. The “conflict” (war) was halfway over by the time I arrived in October 1952. I was assigned as a teletype operator to the HQ of the 5th Air Force (Rear) which was located in the city of Taegu.

The Taegu area was on the front line in 1950-51, on the north side of the Pusan Perimeter. When I arrived the North Korean and the Chinese armies had been pushed back north to around the 38th par-allel. So, I was at least 100 miles or so from the front at that time.

Our compound — the 7th Communications Squadron — in Taegu was located on a hill in a former girls school and we were a self-contained unit. We worked 24/7 at the 5th Air Force HQ (Rear) in the Communications Center which was located about

See KOREA | 19E

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From Peg Kinkley Knueve, of Wapakoneta

My dad, John W. Kinkley, lived his entire life in St. Marys. He died Dec. 30, 1998. Dad was drafted into the Army and served with Company C, 1st Battalion, 382nd Regiment, 96th Division.

In 1997, he wrote his story for my daughter, Sarah Knueve Kreider, MD, when she was in eighth grade for Veterans Day.

Excerpts:___In an Army Service Experience

Questionnaire — postwar — they asked:

World War II was a significant national experience. What, if anything, did it teach you about America or Americans?

“We can pull together regardless of Race; creed; or color for the good of all. Thank God.”

___In January 1943 a friend and I

went to Dayton’s Wright Patterson Air Force Base to take an Air Force test. … My dad drove us to Dayton, but we got there late. We lost about 15 minutes off the test but we still did okay. We were given a date to report to an Air Force base in Fort Wayne, Indiana. It was at the Fort Wayne air base that I found out that I was colorblind. That kept me out of the Air Force. Oct. 21, 1943, I registered for the draft. November 1943 I was sent to Toledo for a physical and the choice of Army, Navy or Marine. I couldn’t get into the Navy because of my inefficient ability to read color blends, so I took the Army.

My reporting time was Dec. 24, 1943. Mr. O’Royer, the school prin-cipal, was able to get me a delay till the end of January 1944. Feb. 4, 1944, I was sent to a camp in Fort Wayne, Indiana. There, I met my English teacher Mr. Steva; he was a sergeant in the Army at that camp. … Our job would be to hit the beaches to secure them and then turn them over to other forces. We would then proceed to hit another beach.

___I remember Camp Pendelton real

well. On the first night there was a huge blast at the Port of Pittsburgh. An ammunition ship blew up our barracks, which was about 15 miles north. It blew our barracks off its foundation. I was asleep in the top bunk and dropped five feet onto the floor.

___We arrived in Honolulu, Hawaii,

on July 4, 1944. President Roosevelt was there but we didn’t see him. … We could understand how the Japa-nese sank a lot of ships. Most of the ships were tied side by side three at a time. I think you could just about run all the way across the harbor without getting your feet wet. At this camp we got more advanced training for assault troops. … I was six feet tall, weighed 140 pounds and the flame-thrower weighed 65 pounds. … We left on Sept. 10 on the USS Cambria, a beautiful trip of 40 days. … We set sail again and came into the Leyte Gulf on Oct. 20, 1944, a day before my 19th birthday. We hit Leyte about 8 a.m. Oct. 20, 1944.

We left the Cambria by climbing down the side of the ship via the landing net. The first two down held the net at the bottom in the LCVP to keep it from flopping around. Each

man had all the equipment he was assigned. … I jumped off the ramp into water up to my waist, ran for 25 or 30 yards to get to dry sand and some sort of protection. I saw a few dead Japanese. We had to take hill 120 that overlooked the beach. We took it and I had to climb to the top with my flame-thrower. We were so busy that I don’t remember eating anything for dinner. Our food was little rations, a package of hard tack candy and a two-quart canteen of water. … In the morning when we got up we saw a dead American about one arms length from our foxhole. We didn’t know it till morn-ing, as his arms were crossed over his chest, his rifle and bayonet were stuck in the ground and his helmet over the stock of his rifle waiting for the people to remove him. Happy Birthday, John, Oct. 21, 1944.

___At the top of hill 120 was the only

time my clothes were dry. When we came down it was swamp, rain, swamp. I went from Oct. 20 to Jan. 3 never having dry clothes or changing them. Jan. 3, 1944, I was sent to the hospital to get my feet healed up. It was Jan. 28 before I got out. In November we sat for 32 hours in torrential rain in a foxhole with water up to our necks. It was cold to stand up and it seemed

warmer underwater. This all hap-pened while we were waiting for a Japanese attack. Thank God it didn’t happen at that time. We got a hot meal for Thanksgiving but had no canteen or other eating equip-ment. We pulled large banana leaves off and used them for a plate for mashed potatoes, meat and bread.

___We were six days on Leyte and

moving along just fine when Gen-eral MacArthur came ashore and wanted to know where our front line was. He was shown a road where we were and couldn’t believe it as that was figured to be the 12th day. The Navy had a Leyte Gulf battle with the Japanese Navy and while this was going on we were told to dig in and prepare to fight front and back if the Japanese won. Luckily for us the Navy creamed the Japanese Navy.

Grandpa’s World War II story

John W. Kinkley, Leyte 1945

John W. Kinkley, PFC 1

Kinkley

See STORY | 18E


Late in December I had to walk to our medical officer for treatment of my feet. With a bandage on my right foot, cotton and more bandages, and no shoe I started back to camp. A GI howled at me wanting to know if I was getting taken care of, I yelled back not a hell of a lot. He yelled for me to come over. I wasn’t going to but I saw this black staff sergeant with a big smile on his face. I walked over to them, and the colonel asked me how it was going. I told him I was going on patrol with one shoe as our company was down to 80 men out of 260. He asked me where I had been. I told him and he said let’s go back. I told him I couldn’t as I was expected back at my camp. He said he would take care of that and flipped up his collar, a full bird colonel. … I was in the hospital 25 days. The major who wanted to take care of me said he didn’t know what to do with my feet. He put me on hot borax soaks 24 hours a day. After about 10 days he thought to try some skin tougheners but it put my feet back in the same condition as when I came in. The meat would separate from my little toe bone.

___My feet healed up pretty well. At

least I could wear my shoes again and my feet felt okay. … We left Leyte Island, Philippines in the last week of March. It took six days of sailing to get to Oki. We hit Oki on April 1, 1945. In the early morning, we were taken to the shore on am-track which stopped about 100 yards from shore. Our platoon disem-barked and waded ashore hitting pit holes and going in over our heads. Thank God there was no offense at the beach. We all got ashore in one piece. … On the seventh day of April, I was sent out ahead to be a lookout for the Japanese trying to come in. I was in a foxhole, first in front of a small hill that a US tank was using for protection. I don’t remember how long I was there before I fell asleep. All I know is that I slept through a Japanese barage and when I woke up there were shell holes all around my foxhole (within two feet

of me). The guys back at the platoon area thought I was dead. I didn’t move all through it.

___I was asleep on the ninth of April

when Tech Sergeant McEntire got a group of seven guys to form a squad. We went to a ridge over looking a creek about thirty hun-dred yards. A company was flushing out Japanese from a wooded area. We were shooting at them with a lot of success. We heard Japanese mor-tar firing but we couldn’t see them. We moved south but only had a half a binocular. We dug in and tried to adjust the binoculars to help spot the mortar. We were lying on top of the ridge overlooking the valley below. McEntire was about four feet from me and Strickland was behind us about four feet sitting on the ground trying to fix the binoculars. We heard a round go over our heads thinking we were getting shelled. The third round we heard hit the ridge we were on. I was stretched out with my right leg pulled up and bent at the knee and my left leg was stretched out. Well the third shell went off about three inches from my foot at the ankle. I got one piece in my leg and McEntire got one piece in the left side of his butt. Marvin S. really took the full effect of the shell. We had a replacement called Lucky William from Texas that got hit also. I thought he got blown off the ridge. … When we got back to company area, Lucky William was

already there and the medics had him all bandaged up from just above his knee to his neck.

… I was carried out on a stretcher and sat in front of the tent waiting to be called in. Now the ground was wet and muddy and this being the only entrance. I was getting splashed with mud in the face. I threw the blanket over my face and went to sleep. Two sergeants came by and saw the stretcher with the blanket over my head; they pitched it up and started to carry me down to the burial area. A long trench 30 feet wide, 100 feet long full, and of dead GI and Japanese. They couldn’t agree on whether to pitch me and the blanket into the hole, so they set me down. When I woke up, surprise! Surprise! They picked me up and carried me back to the exam tent and to the people who were looking for me. They were cussing me all the way back. … I was ordered to board a hospital ship. … One morning I got up and started out to the open deck fine but I forgot the Navy usually has a clean sweep down before and after and this with water and broom. … I took about two steps when the bow hit a high swell, then dropped suddenly; I was thrown to the deck.

I lost one crutch overboard and was able to grab the life chain along the edge of the deck. This kept me from falling into the ocean. I managed to get back to my room door.

___On Saipan, I was operated on

on April 17 or 18. I got a piece of metal just above the ankle along side the shinbone. It had passed by the arteries and muscle, really lucky. It wasn’t healing right by July, proud flesh they called it. So I was sent in for a second surgery. They got out a lot of leather from my combat boat. It healed up pretty well after that. … Then I was turned out to another, as they would send me back to the 96th. We rode around and tried cleaning up the island of Saipan. I used to watch the B29 bombers take off and bomb Japan and come back.

___We were shipped back to Saipan

in late December and then the USS Independence aircraft carrier picked us up and brought us to the US. We were on the USS Independence 14 days when we landed in Washington at night. We were led to a kitchen and fed. The cooks and helpers were all Italian prisoners of war. I was discharged Feb. 20, 1946, in Fort Wayne, Indiana.

John W. Kinkley leaving for the Army

John W. Kinkley with McGary

From page 17E

Story

five miles from our compound, in the direction of K-2 Airbase. The 58th Fighter Bomber Wing was located at K-2. When I was there they flew mainly F-84 Thunderjets out of K-2. We could watch the jets leave early each morning and then

return from their daily missions. Air power, especially air support, had come into its own during the Korean War.

Our younger vets of today who have served in the Gulf wars, Iraq, Afghanistan, Arab Emirates and Syria, also have a tremendous responsibility to “tell their story” to allow all of us to better understand just how this nation fits into the world scheme today. One of these

veterans is our youngest son, Lt. Col. Bryan Moore, who currently serves in the Ohio Air National Guard. He has served numerous deployments in the Middle East including Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Iraq, Afghanistan and the United Arab Emirates. We are so proud of him for his service to this great country of ours. God bless our military and the nation they all so proudly represent.


Communications Center 5th Air Force, Taegu, Korea, 19527th Communications Squadron Compound, Taegu, 1952

Bill Moore, 1952, Taegu, Korea

From page 16E

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