From The Wildwood Independent Series:
PATRIOTS
Penn Valley, California USA
So Brave...
So Quiet...
So Long!
An Anthology of Heroes
By Larry T. Bailey
P
ine
Tree Arts
Penn Valley, CA USA
Copyright ©2011 by Larry T. Bailey
With Permission of The Wildwood Independent
Penn Valley, California, USA
Smashwords Edition
This book is licensed for your personal use only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thanks for respecting the hard work of this author.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means, whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic, without permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts used in articles and reviews.
Pine Tree Arts, P.O. Box 129
Penn Valley, California 95946
pinetreearts@gmail.com
First Edition: July 4, 2011
Pine Tree Arts is the creative division of
Pine Tree Press of Penn Valley, California, USA.
Cover photo: National Archives
Other photos are personal property
of the persons depicted and their families.
‘So Brave...’ Dedication
Diana, my loving and beautiful spouse
Steven and Kirk, my sons
Wyatt and Kalle, Kirk’s progeny and our grandchildren
Bobbi, Steve’s wife - our lovely daughter-in-law
July 4, 2011
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 01: Peter Leopold—USMC
Chapter02: Holger Rasmussen—Army
Chapter05: George Leipzig—Army
Chapter07: John Griffith—AAF-NACA
Chapter 11: Jerry Seawright—USMC
Chapter 20: Jim Manfrin—USN-Pilot
Chapter 21: Woodie Humburg—AAF
Chapter 22: Maurice Emanuel—USN
Chapter 27: Joe Feld – Bob Katen—USN
Chapter 29: Richard J “George” Washington—USN
Chapter 31: Bill Bacheler—USMC
Chapter 32: Norm Traverso—AAF-USAF
By Mike Dobbins
Owner, Publisher, and Editor
The Wildwood Independent
Owner-Publisher, Penn Valley Courier
EVER HAVE THE EXPERIENCE of meeting someone for the first time and knowing in that instant your life will never be the same? Only happens on rare occasions, but when it does, it becomes an instant memory.
It’s occurred a couple times in my life (other than the obvious ones, wife, children, etc.), but I’ll never forget the day about a decade ago, Larry Bailey walked into my office and said, “I have an idea for the paper you might find interesting.”
Interesting? Bailey, master of the understatement!
Thus was born a friendship few are lucky to experience once in a lifetime. That encounter was the “birth-moment” of the PATRIOTS series. That “interesting idea” turned into the most successful endeavor ever undertaken by The Wildwood Independent.
To this day PATRIOTS remains the most talked about, complimented, and popular series in the paper’s 30-year history – bar none.
Likewise, the ten years I’ve been honored in Larry’s orbit of influence has been life-altering on several levels.
The uniformed PATRIOTS Larry introduced to us experienced the horrors of the 20th Century’s most horrific wars.
None ever called themselves “heroes” and yet… ALL are HEROES!
They answered the call and put themselves in harm’s way for a belief in their family, home and country – a belief each and every one holds in their hearts today.
But it was Larry’s incredible skill in telling their stories up close and personal which brought them to life on our pages.
History tells us who the generals were. How the battles unfolded – all the stuff we think we need to know about the events of the time. Larry tells us the story of the everyday guy (or gal) and how the individual copes suddenly finding oneself in a world gone completely mad.
It began with Peter Leopold, the former general manager of the community served by The Wildwood Independent, and the first PATRIOT introduced in the series.
Then there was Dick Landis, flying his P-38 or P-51 in some of the fiercest fighting over Europe. Simultaneously on the ground, his then unmet and later lifelong friend, Holger Rasmussen, a very young infantryman, toiled in freezing snow and mud fighting in the nightmare known as the “The Bulge”.
Then to my favorite, the young sailor – who would later become my all-time super hero – getting ready for church on an early December Sunday morning when seven Japanese torpedoes suddenly slammed into the side of his ship – USS West Virginia – peacefully moored next to Ford Island in Pearl Harbor.
Of all the lives Larry emblazoned on the pages of PATRIOTS this one is my favorite. That 21-year-old-just-out-of Kansas farm boy is my Dad. He survived that war and two others and to this day tears up when talking about the experience.
I like to kid Larry on his “gift,” at times, to use too many words when fewer will do. When I say this, he mostly smiles. But each word in this series is a sparkling gem in the necklace of a life lived to the fullest by these warriors during unfathomable hardships.
His prose and heart-felt poetry brings these stories out of the darkness in which real history is usually hidden and into the light of today for each of us to cherish.
Thanks, Larry; your friendship, guidance and counsel have enriched my life both professionally and personally on so many levels.
You, my friend, are truly a hero!
— Mike Dobbins
“Quietly Living in Our Midst...
Contributing to Our Well-being...”
“So Brave…So Quiet…So Long!” is a superb memoir on human behavior and the emotions felt by that generation of young Americans who answered the call when the wolves came knocking at our nations’ door in the early 1940s. Implicit in the telling is a personal portrait of unsurpassed courage, sacrifice, steadfastness and a sense for the mutual affection that these men and women felt for one another when they served in harm’s way and in some instances, under intense enemy fire.
A unique feature of this book is the telling of how these same courageous Americans went on in their post-war years to raise their families, lead productive lives and continued to enrich and strengthen American society. Larry Bailey has written a must-read tribute to thirty-four of our neighbors who without any fanfare continue to quietly live in our midst and contribute to the well-being of Nevada County, California, and our country.
By Major General O. K. Steele
U.S. Marine Corps (Ret.)
“Get Busy Living, or Get Busy Dying.”
As a newspaper publisher and editor, I’ve always appreciated a good story and a great story teller. In his book, Larry Bailey shares the fascinating life journeys of 34 hometown heroes and he does so with the skill and sensitivity of a veteran journalist. It’s not easy to do justice to lives that have been lived to their fullest and Larry has managed to take his readers around the world and back to a time when young Americans were asked to grow up far too soon.
In his book, Larry Bailey introduces us to Mydell “Myke” Pfanmiller, a Wisconsin girl who would find herself caring for wounded Chinese and American soldiers as a 22-year-old Army nurse in Burma during World War II. She would go on to marry the man who encouraged her to embrace life and to never mix anything but water with good bourbon.
Then there is Al Carver, who logged more than 5,000 hours in the air, starting as a cadet at the controls of a P-38 trainer in 1942 and ending as commander at Beale Air Force Base in Northern California.
One of my all-time favorite movie lines came in the Shawshank Redemption, where the main character reminds his friend to “get busy living, or get busy dying.” These thirty-four Americans took those words to heart and Larry Bailey has managed to show us how well they lived.
Their stories should serve as an inspiration to us all.
By Jeff Ackerman, Publisher and Editor
The Union Newspaper and Publishing Co.,
Grass Valley, CA (A Swift Communications Company)
“Memories Preserved in Time”
“As I read the fascinating and historic stories these honorable men tell Larry Bailey, I can’t help thinking of my own father. How I wish I would have taken the time to document his life experiences to share with future generations in the same colorful, compassionate, and conversational style.
Rotary’s motto Service Above Self is never more evident than in this book where men don’t think of the sacrifices they made in their youth, but only know the pride of service to their God, their family, and their country.
I have known Larry Bailey for nearly 40 years. We share many memories – I only hope he doesn’t write a book about me! I can describe Larry as a successful business manager, a dedicated Rotarian, tender-hearted humanitarian, a loving husband and father, a talented artist, a world traveler, history buff, animal lover, and a dear friend.
Thanks to Larry Bailey’s gifted writing, the memories of these patriots are preserved in time.”
By Jerry J. Barden
Rotary International Director, 1995-1997
“A Big Impression On Me, Personally”
I wish to first congratulate Larry on his compelling record of the 34 people who served our nation in combat roles primarily during WWII. They were more than just veterans and representatives of our fine country; but in many cases “heroes among us.”
This record of the war experiences of such a group of men and women living in the Lake Wildwood area of Penn Valley, California, gives us a better appreciation of their love for our nation and the jobs they did on our behalf.
It goes without saying, in my judgment, service to our nation when necessary is a responsible action on the part of all American citizens.
As I’ve told Larry before, I’ve always thought of him as an individual who has been an inspiration to many people who personally know him. I’ve regarded him as one of the most generous and eloquent in expressing his personal opinion and setting a pattern for life for the many people fortunate to be on familiar terms with him.
Larry is one of the select few I think of who have made a big impression on me personally and affected my individual thinking on many issues.
Once again I thank Larry for the work he has done for the benefit of people in our area who served in the military and those who served all around our wonderful country.
By Richard G. Landis
CEO and Chairman of the Board, Del Monte Corp., and
President, Pacific Region, R.J. Reynolds Co. (Ret.)
“Extraordinary Behavior and Sacrifice
Of Ordinary Men and Women”
As an Air Force officer whose career took me from combat flying in Vietnam to staff Assignments in The White House and The Pentagon and later service as a member of the USAA Board of Directors, I have met and served with many American heroes as well as learned of many more throughout our history.
In capturing the lives and emotions of thirty-four of these heroes, Larry Bailey has done a great service to them in bringing their stories to light and to us in making us aware of the extraordinary behavior and sacrifice of ordinary men and women called to the service of their country. Each personality as engaging as the previous, it is a wonderful read that keeps on giving.
By Leslie G. Denend
Colonel, USAF (Ret.)
USAA Board of Directors (Ret.)
Author’s Introduction
By Larry T. Bailey —- July 1, 2011
AS AN OCCASIONAL writer for The Wildwood Independent newspaper (for Lake Wildwood) in Penn Valley, California, I had an idea for articles primarily about WWII combat veterans (the PATRIOTS) living in our community. I approached Mike Dobbins, publisher, owner and editor of the paper (and also owner and publisher of the Penn Valley Courier), with modest expectations.
At the time, I played a monthly game of poker with a few pals. One of them was former USMC aviator Peter Leopold, who flew in the rear-facing seat of the SBD 3 Douglas Dauntless Dive Bomber during WWII air battles in the South Pacific. He was the catalyst for my idea.
Peter regularly fleeced me and others at cards. I asked him where he had learned to play. He had honed his skills in the Marine barracks and a troop ship to the combat zones in the South Pacific. He had learned well. One question led to another and to a fifteen hundred word article, which prompted another story about a pair of PATRIOTS who had fought the enemy December 7, 1941 and attended the sixtieth anniversary of the Pearl Harbor attack.
Ultimately more than 83,000 words were written about 34 heroes surrounding my home in a tight geographic circle and cocoon of personal assurance and security. Thirty-two of the folks in this book are WWII combat vets. Of the two who are not, one performed acts of extraordinary bravery hovering above a Korean hilltop. The other non-WWII inclusion was an SR-71 warrior who helped push the cause of freedom in the fastest plane the world has ever known.
Two don’t live in Lake Wildwood, but were close neighbors of the development and had strong family ties to the community.
Some of the heroes I wrote about became dear friends. All have enriched my life in so many ways.
The series segments were often continued to subsequent editions. As a kid I was a fan of the Saturday morning matinees and their serials – Flash Gordon, Batman, Dick Tracy, Sky King, Buck Rogers, Hoppy and Roy. They always ended with a cliffhanger so you’d return to the theater next week. I, of course, wanted folks to be sure to read the next issue of the paper and focus on the continuing tale of our selected PATRIOT. I was just doing my small part to keep the newspaper industry alive and well in America.
If the title PATRIOTS was good enough for the newspaper series, why not keep it for the book? There are a couple of reasons for change: The words “patriots/heroes” have been used in book titles, and I’m guessing a million times, maybe more, since the Revolutionary War.
I chose “So Brave… So Quiet… So Long!” for several reasons.
The first two words of the title, “So Brave…” need no explanation. “So Silent…” epitomizes men and women who served in WWII and Korea. For the most part they let their actions speak for them. Think John Wayne, Gary Cooper, Randolph Scott, Humphrey Bogart – strong and silent. Veterans, men and women, worked extraordinarily hard after WWII to build our nation to what it is today. They didn’t, and still don’t, complain much, sometimes to their detriment. I might add vets from other conflicts, including those in today’s headlines, don’t do a lot of complaining either. Maybe more squeaky wheel is sometimes called for.
The “So Long…” is what we’re saying with alarming frequency, especially to WWII and Korean vets. Too many leave us – too many die – every day. “So long” can be a “good-bye, see you later.” Or it can be a sign-off for eternity.
“So Long…” the final two words of the book’s title are what I feel compelled to dawdle on.
For many vets, especially in our later conflicts, there are issues like housing, education, intervention treatments and aftercare, job training, other services and items as simple as a hot meal, haircut, basic health checks, dental work and access to benefit services and “needs” counseling. Most vets are fully integrated into society and productive and facing no more or less than any of the rest of us – the non-veterans.
It seems clear to me that for those who served and sacrificed so much we shouldn’t be saying “So long…” to their needs, regardless of their war.
This book is definitely not an expose. Rather it tries to accurately reflect the stories of thirty-four brave Americans and my neighbors who laid their lives on the line for our freedom. They did a magnificent job of fighting and serving on our behalf. We can and should do no less for them.
A reminder I want to leave – brave men and women who served in our military in many wars and conflicts surround us regardless of where we live. They are nearly as ubiquitous as the pods in the various movie renditions of “Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” They’re all around us. They’re in line at almost every store. They coach our kids or grandkids in individual and team sports. They sit near us at the theater. Maybe they live next door, across the street, behind us. They are our attorney, EMT, tax person, any job we name, and maybe even standing on a corner with a sign and a hand out. They are very close. They can be any age eighteen and above – Veterans!
I repeat: They did a magnificent job of fighting and serving on behalf of our country and us. We can and should do no less for them.
And now...
SO BRAVE...
SO QUIET...
SO LONG!
For without belittling the courage with which men have died, we
Should not forget those acts of courage with which men have lived.
John F. Kennedy
Profiles in Courage
Sis and Peter - 62nd Anniversary
Chapter 01. Peter Leopold - USMC
“He did not give much thought to getting killed. It was always the other guy… the unlucky one.”
BY MID-MORNING December 7, 1941, Peter Leopold had finished reading the Chicago Tribune – a quick scrutiny of the news with special attention to the Sunday comics and the sports section. Around eleven a.m. he was comfortably seated in his future father-in-law’s living room anticipating the pending game between his favorite team, the hapless 3-6-1 Chicago Cardinals, and the rival Chicago Bears who had lost but one game mid-season to the Packers.
He was a junior at Northwestern University studying business and getting decent grades. He was in love with Sis, a strikingly beautiful woman. His only sibling, older brother Jim, was doing well at the Army’s Officer Training School in Fort Benning, Georgia. Just that summer Peter and his family had taken a vacation that took him farther than he had ever been from Chicago – to Yellowstone Park. It had been a rare treat for a family that had struggled with dignity through the depression. At age nineteen and 160 pounds he, and his life, were in great shape. He was as happy as a young man could be… until about 11:55 a.m. Chicago time.
He listened incredulously to the early radio bulletins. The discussion in that cozy living room ultimately climaxed with anger and outrage at the deliberateness, violence and enormity of the attack.
While Franklin Roosevelt was formulating his memorable, “Yesterday, Dec. 7, 1941 – a date which will live in infamy…” remarks to the Congress of the United States, Peter Leopold was formulating his own plan.
He did not hear President Roosevelt’s live address to America Dec. 8. He was taking a streetcar to enlist in the Marine Corp. The ride was smooth, and he read the Trib’s front page. The banner screamed in bold print, “HAWAII, PHILIPPINES, GUAM, SINGAPORE BOMBED.”
The editorial cartoon on the front page showed a giant red, white, and blue American flag flying in the breeze with a man standing proudly below – saluting. The cartoon’s title read, “Every American”. On that day at that moment the drawing of the man saluting looked very much like young Mr. Leopold.
He was ordered to report for duty effective January 13, 1942, at age twenty years and one day. That afternoon he began a trip that would take him far distant from Chicago, far beyond Yellowstone Park.
First stop, San Diego’s Marine Recruit Depot and boot camp.
By May of 1942 he was promoted to PFC, learning the basics of becoming an aviation radioman/gunner. Sis and her mom had traveled to San Diego to see Peter during a brief liberty. He proposed to her. It was agreed that marriage would wait until he was back in civilian clothes. They stood together at the Pacific’s edge that proposal day watching the red-orange sunset to the west. Beyond the horizon, beyond the sinking sun, beyond that glorious moment with his bride-to-be, he stared westward across the ocean to…
MAG 14 consisted of several dive bomber squadrons, each flying 6-8 planes out of Henderson Field, Guadalcanal, in the Solomon Islands. Peter had found a home with Headquarter Squadron VMSB 141, as the partner with Naval Aviation Pilot Mickey Jones, the only NCO pilot in the squadron.
The SBD 3 Douglas Dauntless was a two-seat carrier or land-based dive-bomber first delivered to the military in 1940. The pilot faced forward while the radioman/gunner sat facing the tail and scanned where they had been -- 20/20 hindsight – two bookends without the books. The Dauntless had a 9 cylinder Wright R1820, 1200 horsepower cyclone engine and a maximum speed of 252 mph.
It could carry one 500 or 1,000 pound bomb under the fuselage and two 100 or 250 pound bombs under the wings. There were two fixed, forward-firing 0.5-inch Browning machine-guns in the nose. Some said SBD stood for “Slow but Deadly”.
Peter’s domain included twin manually aimed 30 caliber Browning machine-guns in his rear cockpit. While he had been thoroughly trained on radio operations in San Diego, the machine gun training was strictly OJT. On his first mission he had to ask the enlisted man securing the bombs and ammo how to load the Browning.
“You got to be kidding?”
“No.”
“By the way,” the armorer concluded, “you got a full 180 degree arc you can swing this thing. Try to remember not to shoot your tail off.” Later in the war stops were put in the middle of the arc to preclude shooting one’s self down. To his credit, and his pilot partner’s gratitude, he managed to remember the armorer’s admonition.
Peter had joined the Marines because he wanted to be something special in a special branch of the military. He did not give much thought to getting killed. It was always the other guy… the unlucky one. That’s the way it was…that’s the way he thought about it. When a man is young, he is almost… almost immortal. In a two-seat airplane you hoped your partner, on those days when you flew together astride 1200 fiery horses, would also share your luck.
Immortality for two, while in the air, seemed a modest favor to ask.
For two months on Guadalcanal, flying missions every day, and sometimes twice a day, they were invincible. From 10,000 feet diving, leveling off at 1000 feet, releasing their bombs and soaring as one, unfriendly enemy fire like sparklers on the fourth of July coming their way – colorful, close and harmless. There was confusion, excitement, and exhilaration those days in the air. Peter remembers a lack of fear and “a strange detachment,” in his words, “from the action.” He and his partner were doing their job. Aloft there was no time to be afraid. Fear dissipated like wind over the wings.
They were working very hard to even the score with the enemy, a 500-pound bomb flung like a bullet pass from a seasoned quarterback, exploding into the heart of a Japanese warship. Like tossing a football through a tire, shooting a fish in a barrel, falling off a log. That season he and his pilot quarterback, Mickey, did what his Chicago Cardinals could not do… the scoreboard was always in their favor.
By 1943 Pilot Mickey Jones was no longer partnered with Pete. That is the year he died in a non-combat plane crash off the California coast. Go figure.
In the air the fear could not reach Pete.
On the ground… in the dark… some nights in a foxhole on Guadalcanal dug in around the perimeter of camp… flares dropped from enemy planes, punctuated and magnified by catcalls and whistles from unseen enemies who seemed ubiquitous… the fear crept in. It hung like the smell of death and decay. There was no whirling propeller to dispel it, no blue sky to dissipate the anxiety, no rushing wind, no diving plane to leave the trepidation far behind.
With dawn, the red rising sun, came the limitless horizon waiting to be met by the roar of the Dauntless radial engine – the Yin, the Yang. It evened out.
In the air the fear could not reach Peter.
January 1943, new enemies did find and successfully attack him – malaria and jaundice. The hospital in New Zealand was comfortable and safe and the enemy within him was eventually vanquished. He rejoined his squadron, repositioned to Auckland, to train a New Zealand dive-bomber squadron. His unit also knocked around other areas of the Pacific, including Efate in the New Hebrides.
Just before Christmas 1943, after a month at sea on a Liberty ship, he sailed beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. On February 21, 1944, Marine Staff Sergeant Peter Leopold married Sis. The promise to stay single until he was in civilian clothes was not kept. That promise begged to be broken. The promises of marriage vows, however, remain intact – still.
And all the promises he made to himself, the Marine Corps and America that day he enlisted so very long ago Dec.8, 1941, when he was a young man of nineteen, were met with honor and dignity.
The only other combat he saw was as a football player with the Marines. His base, Oak Grove, was playing against the team from the Cherry Point Marine Air Station. He was lined up directly opposite now deceased ex-49er, and Hall-of-Famer, Leo “The Lion” Nomellini.
“Look, kid,” growled “The Lion” at Peter , “don’t do anything stupid or you might get hurt.”
Peter said nothing, but once again he was in the air… soaring, diving, fearless, indestructible, almost immortal.
He is still that way.
Peter passed away a few years ago and is now soaring in a better place.
Holger then... and now
Chapter 02: Holger Rasmussen – Army
“I entered the Battle of the Bulge with thirty six men. When it was over only twelve remained.”
HOLGER RASMUSSEN was born in Harrisburg, PA in 1925. He was the third of three boys. About five minutes later his twin, Howard, also became an official Pennsylvania resident. Over the next several years two more boys would join the Rasmussen household.
“My Dad had emigrated from Denmark to America when he was 19 or 20,” Holger states, “and he eventually became a professor of agriculture at Penn State, then Secretary of Agriculture for Pennsylvania. At the time of his death, when I was eight years old, he was the Executive Secretary of the International Association of Ice Cream Manufacturers.”
His death devastated the family. His mother took what money they had and bought a 160-acre farm near Hummels-town, some twelve miles east of Harrisburg and six miles west of Hershey. Holger’s aunt and uncle also moved to the farm and coordinated its day-to-day operations. Additionally, his grandmother joined the family at their new home. Farming, during the height of the Depression, was a difficult way to make a living. There were times when the prices they were paid for their milk, eggs and produce were less than the costs incurred to bring them to market.
“We ate very well.” He smiles, “We boys didn’t know we were poor.” He describes the routine on the farm: “My brothers and I would get up around 5:30 to milk the twenty-five or so cows we had. Sometimes we’d help take the milk to the local dairy, then feed the chickens and pigs, eat breakfast and head to school. After school we’d feed hay to the cows and do other chores, have supper, milk the cows again, spend time as a family, do our school studies and go to bed around ten o’clock.” He adds, “We also played sports around the farm and learned how to hunt game.”
He describes how his mother worked during the week as secretary to her late husband’s successor, some sixty plus miles away, and was home mostly on weekends – much less than he and his brothers would have liked. He credits his grandmother with helping him acquire a passion for learning. “We were also taught the valuable life’s lesson that play came after work,” he adds.
“My grandmother had been a school teacher and would read to us hour after hour – historical novels and English authors – Byron, Wordsworth, Burns, Keats, Shelley, Scott, Tennyson, Shakespeare and other great writers, as well as works about world and United States history.” He laughs and continues, “When I was a freshman in high school in nearby Hershey we were all given a state-mandated history test. I was called into the principal’s office. He asked me, ‘Where did you get the answers to the test?’ I didn’t know what he was talking about. He told me I had an almost perfect score, the second highest in the state. Finally he realized I was telling the truth and everything was fine.”
Holger had paid keen attention while his grandmother read to him and the other boys.
He spent his senior year at Gettysburg High School. The family had purchased another farm so the boys could go to Gettysburg College, a liberal arts school in southern PA with an excellent curriculum and reputation.
He was in his first year of college and joined the Army Reserve, February 28, 1943. His twin brother Howard also enlisted and both were called to active duty that May. They both completed Medical Corpsman training, but in September 1943 were assigned to the Army Specialized Training Program (ASTP) designed to accelerate the college education process for high potential candidates. They were sent to Virginia Polytechnic Institute in Blacksburg.
“My brother and I were assigned to a group of sixty men to help design specialized cams of different types. We spent some months doing that, then the ASTP program for us was terminated.” In fact, the motto of the program, run by a highly respected West Point colonel and professor, was, “Soldiers first, students second”. As the war continued, the need for men at the front escalated, and the ASTP program was disbanded.
“We were sent to Camp Claibourne, LA and assigned to the 84th Infantry Division as foot soldiers. We trained as infantrymen for a number of months.” During that time the brothers were split up due to the public outcry and new military policy developed after the five Sullivan Brothers had been killed in 1942 when their ship was destroyed.
“I went to my captain to see what might be done to keep us together. An army psychiatrist said in the case of twins, due to their closeness, it was a good idea to keep them together. We were reunited in the same unit.” The 84th traveled by train to New Jersey, and September 20, 1944 the 334th Infantry Regiment sailed for Europe. They arrived in South Hampton October 1, and left for the Continent a month later, landing on Omaha Beach. They traversed Northern France and by November 12 were in the vicinity of Gulpen, Holland.
“We saw a lot of conflict in the vicinity of the Siegfried Line. My brother and I were in 1st Battalion, Company B, 1st Platoon.” During his second day of combat he was promoted to platoon sergeant. Several days later his platoon leader, a lieutenant, was killed in action. He was not replaced until the middle of the Battle of the Bulge when a new platoon leader was finally assigned. After about a week, that leader went on sick call and never returned to the platoon.
“The killed, wounded and captured at times exceeded our ability to replace them,” Holger offers. “On the Company organization chart I filled the slot of platoon leader for the majority of my time as a combat soldier. I recall that during this period the average time for an infantryman on the front line for the 84th Infantry Division was thirteen days.” His time in command was longer.
The name Holger is ancient Norse in origin and was the name of one of Charlemagne’s successful generals, a Danish nobleman. More than 600 years after Charlemagne and his warriors helped unite and pave the way for a modern Europe, another Holger – albeit not a general – was fighting in similar territory for a similar goal.
He recounts one episode that took place the third week of November. “Combat engineers had cleared a pathway through a German minefield. The next morning I took off at 4 a.m. with my men and another platoon toward a big anti-tank ditch about 100 yards past the minefield. Our job was to take three pillboxes not too far away. The Germans heard us and began heavy mortar fire.” Thick tule fog had settled over the area. The scene was chaos. Holger and nine men – some from his platoon and some from another – crept forward, along with a British tank, to escape the mortars and advance. As the sun began to climb so, too, did the fog.
“The pillboxes were not in front of us… they were to our right and behind us. We had gone beyond them in the thick fog.” He pauses, then continues, “We made our way toward the enemy pillboxes and surprisingly encountered no fire. I ordered one of my men to drop a phosphorous smoke grenade down a ventilator pipe. Germans came running out gasping for air.” The scenario of phosphorous grenade and subsequent surrender was successfully repeated for the remaining two pillboxes.
He reflects back on that victory, “The German field of fire was to the front of the pillboxes, not behind. They could not defend themselves from a rear attack.” He adds, “Reinforcements arrived and took our seventy prisoners off our hands.”
Near the end of November Holger was rewarded with several three-day passes for a little “R and R” in Paris. One of the men he invited to join him was one of his squad leaders – twin brother Sgt. Howard Rasmussen. When they returned all but three of the men in his platoon had been captured by the Germans. He received new men, most of them rookie replacements sprinkled with some experienced men from other platoons.
“It was painful to lose men who had been friends.” His voice is soft as he continues, “The new guys… the replacements… you never make a real attachment to them. It’s a defense mechanism, I think.”
By mid-December it was bitter cold in Western Europe. Men wisecracked that both the weather and the enemy could kill a man. The morning of December 16 the Germans launched their all-out counterattack against the American-controlled lines in the Ardennes – The Battle of the Bulge.
Ironically, the worst American battle casualties up until the Battle of the Bulge had occurred at Gettysburg, Holger’s hometown at the time. Casualties during that Civil War battle exceeded 50,000. Casualties for American forces during the Battle of the Bulge would be fifty percent higher. The third highest number of casualties of any outfit were incurred by the 84th Infantry Division. Holger’s regiment, the 334th, was at the heart of major battles all along their portion of the line.
The Battle of the Bulge occurred over an 80-mile front running from the middle of Luxembourg to southern Belgium and encompassing the Ardennes forest. Simply, the German Army hoped to drive through and divide the British and American forces and capture the port of Antwerp. December 20, General Eisenhower assigned command by giving General Bradley responsibility for operations in the southern part of the battle area. British Field Marshal Montgomery was given command in the northern area, including the 84th Infantry Division.
The period, December 16 to the effective conclusion of the battle in Mid-January, was hellish. Holger states, “I entered the Battle of the Bulge with 36 men. When it was over only twelve remained. The other 24 had been killed, wounded or captured.”
The bulge was hit on three sides. From the north, four divisions, including the 84th and 83rd Infantry and 2nd and 3rd Armored, led an offensive. From the west there was the British Corps, and from the south the 3rd Army. The 84th and 2nd were teamed, as were the 83rd and 3rd. The 84th/2nd team had a front more than eight miles wide. Their objective, the Belgium town of Houffalize, was nearly twenty miles to the south and east.
Initially, American airpower was not a significant factor as bad weather made flying virtually impossible from just after the start of the German offensive, December 16, until skies partially cleared December 23. In this period the German bulge had expanded to its maximum depth of 50 miles. Over the next five days, more than 16,000 flights lifted off.
“When the fighter planes started flying again,” Holger states, “we were very happy to see them.” On flying days the planes were in the air from dawn to dusk.
(In Holger and Linda’s living room there is a framed print of the P-51 and P-38 flown by Dick Landis – former Chairman of the Board of Del Monte – in Europe during his 2½ tours of duty. He flew a number of missions during the Battle of the Bulge, including five in one day. He was a featured PATRIOT in an issue of The Wildwood Independent and later in this book. The picture has a personal inscription to Holger from Dick. Holger hangs it so the two planes are flying upside down. He smiles impishly as he explains, “It is that way so the pilot, Lt. Landis, can better see the troops on the ground.” They are good friends with good humor – each respectful and appreciative of the other’s significant contributions and bravery.)
As the month-long battle wore on, the snow deepened, the cold increased, the ice intensified. It took 2-3 hours to dig a foxhole a few feet deep. Frostbite was an issue, and the possibility of a man freezing to death in his sleep was real.
All vehicles, including tanks, had to stay on the roads. At times roads were so icy any vehicle would slide off. Even so, the infantry soldier could always move forward – could always make at least a little progress and hope the armored units would keep up.
By January 15, 1945 Houffalize was captured and the forces from the north had hooked up with Patton’s 3rd Army. For all intents and purposes the Battle of the Bulge was over. The 84th was given a five-day breather, then sent back into action. For Holger and his brother the war continued.
“Also in January we were headed across some mountains to take a town. My Captain found me and said a lieutenant from another platoon had gotten lost. He wanted me to take a few men and try to find him. We were moving forward for 30 minutes, meeting no resistance and not finding the missing officer. I saw a man walking along the edge of the forest toward us in a sheepskin jacket. He was carrying an oilskin map bag that looked like the ones used by our tank commanders. I motioned the men to stay out of sight, and as he approached I could see he was a German officer.”
Holger yelled at the officer to halt. He did.
“‘I’m amazed,’ the German said in near-perfect English, ‘I didn’t think there were any Americans within 20-25 miles.’
“As we walked back to our lines he told me he had been educated in England at Cambridge.” Holger continues, “He was relieved he had been captured. He said to me, ‘You know you’ve done me a favor. The war is over for me, and I have lived!’”
By late February Holger, his Brother Howard, and Sgt. Youngblood, a squad leader, were all that remained from the original 36 members of his platoon. On the 26th a runner approached Holger and told him his brother had been wounded.
“I rushed to the aide station. It was a German aide station we had captured. A German doctor who was treating men from both sides manned it. My brother had shrapnel in his upper body and face and was temporarily on the sidelines.”
The next day, the 27th, Holger was asked by the Captain to lead a scouting mission. At the last minute the officer changed his mind and sent Sgt. Youngblood instead. Sgt. Youngblood was killed by enemy fire while on the patrol.
“The day after Youngblood died I was hit by machine- gun fire in the mid-section at about 4:00 in the afternoon near Homburg, Germany. Part of the bullet shattered the butt of my pistol and drove pieces into my abdomen. I was twenty-plus miles behind enemy lines. Two German prisoners were ordered at gunpoint to carry me to an aide station where I was given morphine.” It wasn’t until midnight that an ambulance was able to get him to a field hospital in Belgium. The bullet was laid against his spinal column. Two or three units of blood were required for the operation to remove the slug. There are still tiny remnants of the pistol butt embedded in his mid-section.
Slightly less than four months after his platoon had landed on the European continent in early November each of the original 36 warriors of Holger’s platoon and many of their replacements had been captured, killed or wounded.
“I spent a few days in a Paris hospital, then was sent to a hospital in Winchester, England. I was there until July. I came down with hepatitis from the blood I had received and also developed jaundice, so there were a number of medical issues to confront. From England I was sent by hospital ship to a medical treatment facility in Wainsborough, Virginia.” He continues, “I was released from that hospital in October, and sent to Newport News, Virginia to help process discharges.”
His own discharge was Dec. 7, 1945. The next month he returned as a student to Gettysburg College, as did his twin, Howard. Upon graduation from Gettysburg College he took a turn teaching chemistry at the college, then applied to the prestigious Temple University School of Medicine in Philadelphia. He was accepted and began his study in 1948. His twin also went to medical school, but up the road a bit to Harvard.
Five of the Rasmussen brothers served in WWII – two in the Army in Europe, one in the Army in New Guinea, another in the Navy in the South Pacific, and the fifth in the Navy in the U.S. The sixth brother was too young to serve during WWII but did fly B-29’s during the Korean War. All came home alive, and all went on to higher education.
Holger explains that his education benefits went beyond the G.I. Bill. All of his medical school tuition was covered under Public Law 16, enacted in 1943 to pay for the rehabilitation of disabled veterans.
“I finished medical school in 1952 during the Korean War and went back in the Army for a year as an officer and physician. I was assigned to Fitzsimmons Hospital in Denver. We were the chest center for the entire armed services. As an intern I did 50-60 Broncoscophies, and with Lowry Air Force Base nearby I delivered some 80 babies.”
He was also Battalion Surgeon at two other bases – Fort Carson, CO; and Camp Attebury in Indiana. In 1954 he went into private practice opening an office in Fremont, CA.
“I was in practice in that area for 38 years primarily as a family physician.”
He found time to become Chief of Staff at Fremont’s Washington Hospital, Head of OBGYN at the same institution, President of the California Academy of Family Physicians, on the Board of Directors of the American Academy of Family Physicians and a number of other prestigious positions.
For nine years he also was President of the Fremont Unified School Board and helped start Ohlone College. He was instrumental in founding the Washington Outpatient Surgery Center in the Fremont area, and he served on its board for nine years. During the initial professional liability crisis in California, he helped develop and was on the Board of Governors of “The Doctors Company”, a physician- owned-and-operated medical-professional liability insurance company.
Holger and wife Linda were married in 1975. They moved to Lake Wildwood in 1991, with Holger commuting to the Fremont area for a part of each week. He then spent eight years as a consultant with Milliman and Robertson, Inc., a health care management company, with emphasis on promoting the efficiency and quality of healthcare both in the hospital and the outpatient setting.
He has not yet retired and is currently working in the area of hormone therapy for aging adults. During life on the family Pennsylvania farm during the 1930’s he learned the valuable lesson that work came before play. Based on Holger Rasmussen’s attitude and enthusiasm, he has melded the concepts of work and play into one harmonious way of life.
Chapter 03: Bill Dobbins – USN
In the whaleboat, “We had to work very fast as men can’t last long in near freezing water.”
BILL DOBBINS was born Oct. 10, 1920 in the small town of Marion, KS, dead center in the state some 165 miles SE of Kansas City. “I spent my first twelve years in Marion, and learned good Midwestern values.” His words: “Hard work, pragmatic, frugal, austere, perseverance,” and more are not unlike Carl Sandburg’s, who wrote about these same heartland values while Bill was growing up.
During his teens he lived in Omaha and Kansas City, and after high school went to work in a steel mill in the latter city. “I knew I wanted to join the Navy, and I enlisted in 1937.” His laugh is nearer a throaty growl. “I went to three different cities to sign up – Kansas City, Omaha and St. Louis. I thought I’d triple my chances of getting in, but they were all in the same naval district so two of the three were a waste of time.” He was called up in 1940 and did his basic at Great Lakes Naval Training Center in Illinois.
“After graduation I was assigned to the Battleship USS West Virginia, and I headed by train to Bremerton, WA where it was getting refitted.” He pauses, and again there is the laugh. “I’d spent a few years in the steel mill and knew...” – he is emphatic – “I knew steel didn’t float – especially that much steel.” After refitting, the ship steamed to Long Beach and then on to its’ new home port in Pearl Harbor.
“December 7, 1941, I was below decks getting ready to go to church services in Honolulu. At first I thought we had been accidentally rammed by another ship. Then general quarters was sounded. I got topside and saw we were under attack.” The West Virginia was an easy target for the Japanese attackers. The enemy planes swept down a channel that dead-ended at Ford Island and battleship row. Seven of the nine American battleships were moored alongside Ford Island. Tied directly to the quay was the Tennessee, and next to it the West Virginia. Behind those two was the USS Arizona and beyond it the USS Nevada. Directly in front of the West Virginia was the Oklahoma, with the Maryland at its side and tied to the shore. Forward of these two was the USS California. More than a half-mile wide string of battleships was directly exposed to enemy torpedo planes and bombers. They were almost impossible targets to miss and the enemy was relentless.
“We were hit again and again. Topside the Japanese planes were so close, guys were shooting .45 pistols and throwing potatoes at them. The ship was on fire and it was going down.” By counter-flooding the hull, the ship sank directly to the bottom, some forty feet below, unlike the Oklahoma which capsized. “The Arizona had exploded and the sea was aflame to our stern. We were ordered to abandon ship over the bow and swim to shore past the heavily damaged Tennessee tied up between Ford Island and us.” About 100 men did not make it off the West Virginia alive, including her captain. He was posthumously awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor.
“Because our ship had sunk I was immediately reassigned to the USS Honolulu, a light destroyer. A Japanese bomb came between the ship and dock and the concussion blew a hole in the Honolulu’s side.” He went back to the assembly center on Ford Island for another reassignment. “Early the next morning, around 3 a.m., I volunteered for assignment to the USS Dewey.” The Dewey was a Farragut class destroyer built in 1934. The Dewey got underway immediately to patrol the area around Hawaii, then joined a task force sailing to help the Marine garrison on Wake Island and then to another task force in February. She screened the carrier Lexington in the attacks on Lae and Salamaua, New Guinea; then on to the Battle of the Coral Sea. May 8, the carrier Lexington came under heavy attack. The Dewey provided antiaircraft fire, and five of her men were wounded by enemy fire.
When the Lexington went down, Bill helped in the rescue effort of 112 of her crew. She screened Yorktown into a safe harbor a few days later and returned to Pearl Harbor at the end of May, protecting the carrier Enterprise. She sailed three days later and joined the Battle of Midway. During the battle of Guadalcanal in August, the Dewey engaged Japanese dive-bombers and brought down several planes. She also rescued 40 men from a sinking ship.
“We were in virtually every major Pacific engagement during 1942, including the Battle of the Eastern Solomons late August and the Japanese campaign to reinforce Tulagi and Guadalcanal. We escorted the damaged Saratoga to Pearl, then headed to Mare Island for an overhaul.”
His mood shifts and a smile crosses his face. “Vallejo’s Mare Island is only 30 miles from San Francisco, and it was a great city to visit during liberty. A buddy and I were in a restaurant in the city. I’d asked for a bushel of fresh salad and a gallon of ice cream, but had to settle for a standard meal. A few tables away I noticed this woman and said to my pal, ‘Hey, isn’t that beautiful?’
“I asked the waitress, ‘How could a guy get to meet a looker like that?’ She said, ‘Why don’t you ask her?’ So I did, and a few days later we went on a date to the Golden Gate Theater on Market Street. She was absolutely perfect in every way.” Bill and Mary had a whirlwind romance and were married a few weeks after their initial date. “November 15, 1942 we eloped to Reno. For a while we were stuck in a blizzard going over the summit on old Highway 40. I shipped out in December aboard the Dewey for Alaskan waters, and ‘Honey’ settled into her job as bookkeeper for an exclusive local retailer.”
The Bering Sea in the winter can be very rough, fueled by arctic gales. “We were supporting the Amchitka Campaign. On January 12, 1943, another Farragut class destroyer, the USS Worden, moved toward a harbor to provide cover for an Army security detachment. The weather was bad with waves 20-30 feet high and a fierce wind.” His pace quickens. “The Worden rode the waves and came down on an uncharted rock formation. Her hull was ripped wide open near the engine room. She had no power, and we tried to tow her off, but she was filling very quickly with water. She began to break up.
“I was in charge of the whaleboat for our ship. We dropped it into the sea from the lee side of the Dewey. There were three of us on board – the coxswain, engineer and me. I had a boat hook, and we were able to rescue most of the crew.” Fourteen of the Worden’s crew perished out of a total of 251 men on board. “The water was like black jello – a semi-frozen slick of oil three or four inches thick. We’d get men into the whaleboat, pull up alongside our ship and time it so that a wave would carry us up to deck level. Then the survivors would scramble or be pulled onto the Dewey. We had to work very fast as a man can’t last long in near-freezing water.” Bill’s pace slows. “We were exhausted by the time we had finished, and very proud of what we’d accomplished.”
Late December 1943 Bill was ordered to a newly launched ship, the jeep carrier USS Savo Island. “The navy wanted a few experienced men to help train the new guys on shipboard duties. I was on her for six or eight months, then transferred to another jeep carrier, the USS Windham Bay.” His tour on this ship was also about six months.
“Typically the jeep carriers were hundreds of feet shorter than regular carriers. One day we were in fairly rough seas and pilots were having problems landing on the big carriers. We didn’t have any planes up at the time because of the weather. One of our officers radioed the big carrier and said, “If you’ll turn your carrier a bit so the headwind is blowing toward your side we’ll take off and show you how to land all your planes simultaneously using the deck width, not length, as the landing area.”
Bill laughs, “There was a moment of silence, then this voice booms in reply, ‘This is Admiral Halsey. I’d be very interested in speaking with the wiseass who made that suggestion.’ Needless to say, there was radio silence.
“My next ship was a new destroyer commissioned mid-March, 1945, the USS Bristol, the last of the Sumner class. I was the ship’s fire control director. I was on her until the Japanese surrender. We helped lead the Missouri into Tokyo Bay for the formal surrender ceremony September 2, 1945. From the Bristol I was able to watch this moment of history through binoculars.” For the next few months his ship patrolled Japanese waters, including Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
“When the Bristol headed home, I got off in Honolulu and was assigned to a new ship.” The USS Mugford was a Bagley class destroyer. “We were headed to the Marshall Islands and the Bikini Atoll. I would be helping to set up the target ships for atomic bomb testing.” The ship he came on, the Mugford, was one of the ships that would ride at anchor during a bomb burst. “My job was to help set up the target vessels and examine ship components after the blast for damage.”
He recounts the second test in the program, an underwater blast. “One of the target ships was the battleship Pennsylvania. She had steamed under her own power to Bikini and was put at anchor. After the detonation, eight of us were to go on board. We each had a specific task that was supposed to take 30 seconds to a minute. After we climbed aboard the Pennsylvania the shuttle boat operator left. He later said he thought we were supposed to be there 30 minutes, not 30 seconds.
“Immediately when we got back we were put in a lead- lined room and completely shaved. For three weeks we took a shower every hour, 24 hours a day, and had doctors checking us with Geiger counters. For years I had to undergo testing.”
He pauses. “It’s been about ten years since my last radiological medical exam, and I never did suffer any ill effects. I really didn’t know the other men on the ship with me that day and have no idea if any of them eventually developed radiation related illnesses.”
In 1947 a tiny bundle with the energy of several atom bombs entered Bill and Mary’s life in San Francisco – their son Michael. “He was so cute,” Mary says, “and a very good little boy.”
Bill made a career of the Navy, including participating in the 1954 hydrogen bomb test also conducted at the Bikini Atoll. “We were aboard ship about ten miles from ground zero. The fireball was three miles wide, and within minutes the mushroom cloud had reached a height of 135,000 feet and was eight miles wide.” The blast was equivalent to 100,000,000 tons of TNT.
Bill served his nation with distinction in WWII, Korea and Vietnam. “I retired with almost 28 years of service to my country. We have a fine son, Mike; two grandchildren, Kim and Seana, and three great-grandchildren. Mary and I moved to this area in 1978.” The whirlwind engagement turned into a marathon marriage of more than 60 years – until her 2005 passing.
C
hapter
04: Ben West -- AAF
“It was a steep and terrifying front-row ride for 17,000 vertical feet.”
THE DAY Ben West was born in 1921, his dad and crew whooped and hollered in a field near his drilling rig, shouting, “Here it comes,” as oil shot to and through the earth’s surface. A few miles away, in Sapulpa, OK, the doctor – no less enthusiastically – was reassuring Ben’s mother with, “Here he is,” as he presented her new son.