HAPPY NEW YEAR

By DELL ARTHUR

            As it so swiftly passed the year 2015 will soon be history. During the past 12 months so much has happened that it seems almost impossible to focus on one event that could be considered the most important news maker. As the result the memory of all of the past year’s events that changed our lives one way or another merely lingers on.

This time last year everyone was buoyant about the future and wishing each other “Happy New Year.” But as it turned out, like preceding years, it seemed almost daily another news story was reporting a shooting somewhere in our nation taking the life of an undefended victim, or another terrorist attack—the last one at San Bernardino, California, where a ISIS affiliated Muslim wife and husband teamed together to kill 15 innocent people, or some natural disaster. Nothing too different it seemed, from what happened from the preceding year.

Just a few weeks before San Bernardino there was the attack on Paris, France where another group of ISIS killers murdered some 115 people. While this senseless war in the name of “Allah “continues to rage throughout the Middle East there seems no end in sight. Now with the dawn of another New Year the possibility of another attack seems almost certain. It’s only a question of where and when.

            The old adage “…Those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it,” seems to be a fulfillment of prophesy.

            Looking back a 100 years ago the United States was on the verge of entering the First World War. President Woodrow Wilson, who promised that America would not participate in the European conflict, nevertheless sent troops to France to die and bleed in the mud saturated poppy fields. This was to be the war to end all wars.

            It was scarcely 25 years later that the world was again in a war that would prove to be the most horrific conflict in the history of mankind. In Europe country after country fell into the hands of Germany’s tyrant Adolph Hitler who saw to it that millions of civilians—primarily Jews—would find themselves enslaved in death camps and end their lives in ovens.

            But it mattered little. Everyone who opposed this madman was subject to elimination. Hitler promised his Third Reich would last 1000 years. As it turned out it lasted less than 15. Millions upon millions died in the few years the war lasted. Not only members of armies—German, Italian and Japanese, but the allies of all nations fighting for their freedom and future also entered eternity. This did not count the numbers of innocent civilians, men women and children who also brutally died as a result of this insane folly.

            And the beautiful cities that had come down through the magnificent days of history and architecture once at the end of the fighting were left nothing but rubble. Buildings that were considered works of art appeared as lonely standing walls, windowless, broken, and demolished beyond repair. It took months of excavation following the signing of surrender to recover bodies buried under the pile of bricks and mortar.

            But the most horrific result of World War II was the opening of Pandora’s Box when a lone B-29 flew over Hiroshima, Japan and unleased the first atomic bomb in history on an unsuspecting population. Shortly after the first bomb exploded killing over 70,000 people a second atomic bomb was unleashed over the town of Nagasaki. The morality of such an action is debated even to present time.

            But this was war and that is what war is all about.

            Not five years passed when again an unwanted conflict started when North Korea attacked their neighbor South Korea and American soldiers and airmen and navy were nearly pushed back to the sea. This war, or better known as a United Nations “police action,” lasted nearly three years after the Chinese became involved and an armistice was agreed to. As far as the “war” is concerned, it never ended and only a fragile “peace” accord keeps both sides on their own side of the border. How long it will last is anyone’s guess.

            And then there was Vietnam. This was a politician’s war.

            Men who served in all branches of the military were greeted home by the “hippy” generation who spat on them and called them “baby killers,” and much more wherever these brave men wore their uniforms in public. It mattered little to those who did not serve or ran to Canada to avoid the draft that the misery of battle left so many of those who did serve with scars that would never heal. Some came home without legs or arms or paralyzed or burned or in a casket. None of them wanted to leave their homes and families to fight “an Asian war,” but they went when called and paid the price.

            At the end of this conflict there was hope of peace in the world. Yet even during this interlude small wars continued to break out throughout the world. And then the Middle East erupted when Saddam Hussein decided to take over his small neighbor Kuwait for their oil fields. This ignited a brief battle when American forces were called in and ran over Iraq in less than three days.

 This “victory” lasted only a short time when a second “Desert Storm” erupted and the politicians decided that a change of the government of Iraq was needed. The result was the occupation of Iraq and the execution of Saddam.

            But that wasn’t to be the end of it.

            When the current President of the United States, Barack Obama ascended to the presidency of the United States he implemented policies that started a spiral downward for America and its security. He pulled troops out of Iraq that has left a vacuum of power which opened the door to the fanatics. Today we see the results of his foolish foreign policy decisions.

            All that can be said is “so much for a community organizer.”

            With 2016 only hours away the world can only hope. What is in store for the next 12 months is anyone’s guess. Only He who is the creator of all knows the answer.

HAPPY NEW YEAR.

IN HONOR OF HIM WHO REDEEMED THE WORLD

By DELL ARTHUR

            It was 2,000 years ago a babe transformed the world by His birth. And on this December 25, the world will celebrate Him who came into this world to redeem mankind and open the gates of heaven by his death and resurrection.

            But you wouldn’t know it by watching television or listening to the radio.

            It seems the world is too wrapped up in its secular lifestyle. Neighborhoods and stores glisten with brilliant colored lights and there are trees decorated with ornaments and lots of packaged gifts scattered around the base. Also to be seen are beautiful windows and doors and porches with wreaths and other decorations in keeping with the pagan idea of Christmas. Here and there someone displays a manger scene but for the most part businesses and homes are decorated with stuffed Santa Clause figurines and reindeers' and Frosty the Snowman.

            If you do watch programs advertised as “Christmas” themes you will most likely be disappointed. Movies usually show how a couple finally find romance or some unfortunate single mother and child are adopted just in time by some friendly people who take pity on her circumstances. This altruistic benevolent gesture insures that the family will indeed have plenty of presents to offset their dismal situation. It’s enough to make you shed a tear. There is usually an “angel” who appears to make the “holiday” a happy event for some unfortunate or homeless person. All this is to encourage a sense of joy—at least for one day.

            Both on the radio and television music pours out celebrating what is commonly termed “the Christmas season.” Songs as “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” or “Jingle Bells,” or “Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer,” fill the airways. Only occasionally—and usually on conservative stations—will you hear the songs of memory as “Silent Night,” or “Noel, Noel.” What the term “Happy holidays” has to do with the birth of Jesus Christ is a puzzle. Christmas has nothing to do with New Year’s or any other celebration that others may observe. Christmas is reserved only for CHRIST and none other.

            Memory takes me back to the times of how Christmas was celebrated in our home by my parents. Sure we had a decorated tree with presents carefully wrapped and put around the bottom. But there was something else that permeated through our home. It was a sense of gratitude to Him who made it all happen. On Christmas morning our family would attend Mass and then return home to open our gifts.

            These were the times of the 1940’s. It was a much different world than today.

  

            Today it seems such homage to the Savior of the World is politically incorrect.

            Yet it seems okay for places as Oklahoma City, to allow a permit to a Satanist group to put up a counter display of a Christmas manger scene erected in front of a Catholic Cathedral and allow them to desecrate a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary with false blood and ash—all part of their heathen services.

            For those who profess a belief in the Virgin birth or who believe that a Savior was born explicitly to redeem mankind they are mocked by a world that believes that only man can solve the world by their own creation. As a result the true meaning of Christmas has been transformed into an economic holiday. Some stores will even remain open for package exchanges on this hollowed day. Few will bother to attend a church service unless some sort of entertainment is performed. Homage from the soul to Him who loves all is replaced by a false joy.

            The true meaning of Christmas should be the exchange of love for one another. That is what Christ brought to the world. It is a gift that is, for the most part, unappreciated. But it is only one gift.

            The other gifts Jesus gave to the world with his birth were redemption and forgiveness. And this gift he gave was on a cross. Yes, Christmas is special in many ways but for us humans—the creation by God the Father—it is necessary to express our love and appreciation to Him that we honor on Christmas Day.

            So in closing allow me to be politically incorrect and wish all of you a very, very Merry Christmas in the name of Him who made it all possible.

            

YOU GET WHAT YOU GET

            Census records reflect that only about 50 per cent of Americans vote. And that may be good for the country if a recent “on the street” interview conducted by Jessie Watters who appears on the Fox News Channel is any indication of how informed most people think. Hopefully the people he questioned will skip their right to vote and stay at home!

Unfortunately most of the “enlightened” people he interviewed last week will most likely do so. And if they do it is a good bet that they will resort to subjective rather objective reasons for picking a candidate—especially for President. But if applying any smarts after watching this particular interview by Watters exemplifies the wisdom and intelligence of the average “man on the street” then all that can be said is “Lord help us!”

Americans brag about their public schools. The teacher unions tout how grand they accomplish their task in educating the children entrusted to their care and what a marvelous education these youngsters benefit. Yet the answers of those interviewed by Watters may reflect the true product of such education.

And this is the reason why.

With the Presidential election heading towards the final months of November 2016, you would think that folks would be seriously pondering who to vote for. I must admit that I am a bit prejudiced since I favor conservatives so if this column seems to favor the right you have fair warning. What caught my attention of Watters interview actually staggered me. I have for years thought that there wasn’t anyone more obtuse than the average American voter but Watters questions to the “man on the street” proved it—at least for me. Here are a few questions he asked.

“Who is buried in “Grant’s Tomb” he randomly asked a few people. Their answers varied. One person about 30 paused and then answered, “George Washington?” He then asked another lady—I won’t guess her age, replied “Ronald Reagan?” Then Watters showed a map of the world and asked “Where are we?” Some people pointed to Canada, some South America. One person even picked out Africa! Not one person identified the United States!

But the one question that really stuck out for me was when people were asked, “Where was Jesus Christ born?” A young women simply responded, “…I’m not religious.” Another said Asia. One man who put a great deal of thought into the question answered “…In a hospital?”

Some time back I ran across a test on the internet that asked if a person could pass a simple eighth grade test that was required in 1910. I doubt that most average public school students could pass it. If your memory serves you then you will recall that in those days government had no involvement or control over public education!

In those days local school districts were the ones who hired quality teachers and saw to it that students received education in subjects as geography, math, English, curser writing, civil civics (and its responsibilities), reading and spelling. Teachers were hired on their ability and if they didn’t produce they were out the door. There were no teacher unions to protect the most incompetent.

But times have changed. Students are no longer taught the basics as illustrated above. Instead political correctness it now the vogue and anyone deviating from it is immediately punished. The simple basics of education is replaced with computers, altruistic concerns and unproven science.

I recall one school district administrator who objected to a calendar that merchants in town were selling as a school fund raiser that illustrated the birth dates of people who played a historical part in American history. What she objected to was a picture of General Robert E. Lee on his birth date. I must admit that after spending a great deal of time in the south and visiting many of the battle fields including Gettysburg, I can sympathize with both sides of the “War Between the States” commonly, and erroneously termed “the Civil War.” Again propaganda plays a part in distorting history. The old adage of “the spoils go to the victor” justifies such a slant of truth as professed by this administrator. And in schools today it’s the students who pay the price.

As a result of this abysmal situation there has been a push for charter schools, home schooling and private schools. But again “government” finds it necessary to shut down the majority of these forms of education. They are too much competition for bureaucratic domination.

Where will all of this lead?

For the more fortunate who can enroll in schools that DO teach they have the advantage. It is from this crop that the doctors, engineers, architects, and others will raise to the top. For those who have vocations in services as carpenters, plumbers, auto mechanics and every other such industry, they also will be providing a needed service.

But what about lawyers, politicians and community organizers—don’t we also need them? All I can say is look at the results of what we have today.

You get what you get.

ANOTHER HERO LOST TO TIME

By DELL ARTHUR

America has lost another hero this past week with the death of Joe Moser who died at the age of 94. Moser may not be a household name but his experiences during World War II earned him one of the highest decorations awarded to an airman—the Distinguished Flying Cross, second only to the Congressional Medal of Honor. His exploits and endurance's during combat can only be remembered as incredible.

As a 22-year old First Lieutenant he flew the famed twin-engine Lockheed P-38 fighter-bomber in Europe and as a member of the 429^th Fighter Squadron his mission was to destroy German convoy troops and equipment moving up to counter attack the Allied troops following the Normandy invasion.

But on his 44^th mission his luck ran out and he was shot down over France. He had dropped down to about 200 feet and lined up with a road where there appeared several enemy trucks parked in a row. It was a trap! The Germans had hid anti-aircraft guns in the woods waiting for some unsuspecting fighter to take the bait. And sure enough Moser fell for it. The German fire riddled his airplane and set afire one engine. With the remaining “good” engine running at full power he managed to climb to about 3000 feet, rolled the airplane on its back and safely ejected. This was no simple feat since the twin-boom fighter was noted for snagging pilots trying to bail out. Usually the unfortunate airman’s parachute caught on the horizontal stabilizer so using his head Moser elected to flip the plane over, eject the canopy, push with all his might with his feet against the seat and safely get out.

When he landed he managed to elude the enemy soldiers but only for a short time. Finally he was caught and taken to a local French jail where he languished for a few days before being taken along with about 170 other American airmen to a rail yard where they were to be transferred to Germany. All of the men thought they were going to be held in a prison of war camp but what they faced was more dramatic and repulsive than they could have ever imagined. Rather than being detained by the German Luftwaffe the prisoners were turned over to the Gestapo.

Forced into cattle cars the men had little or nothing to eat or room to maneuver. If lucky a person could find room to sit down but that was about it. The doors of the cars were bolted shut and German sentries rode atop to make sure no one could escape. Anyone trying would immediately be shot.

After arriving at their destination the men were shocked to learn that this was no POW camp—it was the famous death concentration camp Buchenwald!

Herded inside the electric wires surrounding the camp Moser was shocked at what he saw. Corpses lying outside buildings and inmates in rags, with little flesh on their bones staring at the new arrivals, he wondered what kind of a place this was. None of the inmates appeared to be military men.

For the next eight months and two weeks Moser would be in the hands of these vicious killers and there appeared no hope.

Moser recalled one incident when he and a group of other American airmen were being marched across the compound escorted by an armed German soldier. The guard who spoke English, offhandedly pointed to the crematory chimney and commented that the only way he and his fellow captives would ever leave the camp would be as ashes!

Buchenwald was designed as a “work camp.” However, working in the camp usually meant that the prisoners would be underfed, overworked and usually died in a short time from illness or starvation. When Moser entered the camp he weighed a little over 180 pounds. During the time he was held captive he lost 40 pounds. Records later recovered indicated that he and his companions were scheduled to be executed. He was only days from facing a firing squad.

But then a miracle happened.

The area surrounding the concentration camp had been heavily bombed by the Americans. As it happened two German Air Force Luftwaffe officers visited the camp and surrounding town to examine the bomb damage. Receiving permission to visit the camp they ran into the American airmen. Taking a chance which could have resulted in instant death one of the American pilots who spoke fluent German broke ranks and approached the German airmen. He told them that he was an American flyer and he and the others were being held as prisoners. He told them that they were not allowed to be treated as prisoners of war but as criminals—all against the Geneva Convention.

Since they were held as prisoners there was no record forwarded to the Allies. The men were simply considered by the Americans as “missing in action.” Their fate would never be known.

Even though they were enemies there was a certain degree of chivalry between them. Airmen were airmen and even in combat there remained a certain respect for each other. The German officers said that they couldn’t promise anything but they would do all they could to help the captured men.

The Gestapo was adamant that Moser and his comrades would never leave their control but a few days later orders came down and Moser and the others were taken to a barracks where the clothes they had been captured in was returned. Then they were released to the Luftwaffe where they were transported to a prison of war camp. The camp they were taken to was no picnic but at least they were given food, Red Cross packages and the Americans notified that they were alive.

Finally the camp was freed by the advancing American infantry. When questioned by Army military intelligence Moser said they couldn’t believe the experience he had endured. Since there was no official record his account of captivity his account was ignored. It wasn’t until sometime after the war when German records were examined that proof of Moser’s account was verified. But by that time people lost interest.

Like so many military men who fought in World War II, Moser was reluctant to talk about his experiences. Even the award of the Distinguish Flying Cross was delayed 63 years before being officially certified. Yet this mild-mannered American was grateful to return home and resume a normal life.

But one thing for sure—he never forgot the horrors of the Buchenwald concentration camp nor the comradeship of the two Luftwaffe officers who saved his and his friends lives.

A FLOPPY EAR BALL OF FUR

By DELL ARTHUR

            Everyone who has a pet knows the joy they bring into your life. The time spent with these special friends is priceless and the bond that connects can’t help but pull at your heart strings. But over time our special friend’s age and their health declines to the point that they begin to suffer. Finally you are confronted to make the awful decision if it is time to make a final visit to the vet. This is probably one of the most excruciatingly painful experiences anyone can face.

            Toby was my “better half’s” constant companion for 15 years. He was always by her side and gave nothing but unconditional loyalty and love. When walking him people would stop and pet him and say how cute he was. Then, invariably, they would ask his breed. Our stock answer was “… he’s Corgi on the bottom and handsome stranger on top.” And it was the truth. He was the sweetest little guy who never once in his life barked! But then the final day came and an incredible emptiness and sorrow entered into our lives.

            We swore we would never own another dog—Toby was it! The pain of separation was too much to ever endure again.

            About two months passed when I got a call on my cel phone. It was my “better half.” “Hey,” she greeted me, “…I’m on the computer and looking at some little pups and they are adorable,” she said. So the hook was set! But before making a decision we called our son who is a breeder of standard poodles, groomer, trainer, dog show judge and author of a published dog book, “How Much is That Doggie in the Window.”

“Heck, if you and mom want a pup I can get you anything you want,” he said. We thought about it and decided we wanted a “pure bred” alright but the breed we wanted was a “pure bred mutt.” And that is how Jake came into our lives.

            He was only about five months old when he was running wild around San Diego, California fields. Trying to catch him was an adventure in itself we were told, but finally he was caught and placed in a “kill” shelter awaiting the inevitable. But a small miracle occurred. Someone from a rescue shelter came across him and took him to a safe home operated by Maria Brunetto for placement.

Jake and his favorite squeaker toy.
You will never win a tug-of-war!

Soon after my “better half” was again on the computer and contacted the shelter. She saw one little pup that might fill the bill, she thought, but after talking with Maria she was advised to take this little floppy ear ball of fur who now runs our lives and house. It turned out that this little guy was the worse of two breeds Havanese and poodle and weighed in at 18 pounds. The reason I say he is the “worse of two breeds” is because the Havanese is noted for stubbornness and strong will. The poodle is noted for high intelligence so when you match the two together-- well, you know what I mean!

            It took four days to ship him by van to our home. Those four days were spent cooped in a cage along with other dogs being delivered to their new “forever homes.” As a consequence whenever we drive Jake finds it necessary to stand between my “better half” and myself as we drive. He doesn’t just stand there however; he places his two front legs on my right arm to look out the front window. I am sure passerby’s wonder which one of us is driving!

            The first three days in his new home was one of exploration. He was terrified when we first got him and when Kathleen held him in her arms for the first time he was shivering and frightened not knowing what to expect. Yet he never whimpered a bit. But after a few days—and exploring his new surroundings he settled in. After a month he was becoming a “mom and dad’s boy.” But even after a few months later he remained shy of people. Anyone trying to pet him he would back away and cower behind us. The reason, our son thinks, is because of his experience running wild and people trying to catch him. But now a year has passed and he is slowly letting strangers come near but he still won’t let them pet him.

            Watching him sleep is hilarious. He will be in his bed or sleeping at our feet or on the sofa and he will begin to softly bark and growl. Whatever puppy dreams he is having are surely something only a dog psychiatrist could explain. When awake he never barks but if he wants your attention—especially for a taste of dinner or to play—he will sit at our feet and let out a soft growl and stare you down until you respond.

            So now after the passage of over a year he is more than part of the family. After losing Toby we thought the hole that was left in our hearts could never be filled. And it is true; Toby can never be replaced but the hurt is replaced by the love and joy that this little floppy ear ball of fur has brought. He is not a replacement but rather a new happiness that only Jake can fill.

DOGS THAT MAKE A DIFFERENCE

            They are known as “Olympians” but these highly trained athletics don’t compete in high jumps, pole vaulting or running a mile race—even though they have four legs! But their training is just as demanding as their two-legged counterparts according to Alice Collingwood who heads up Summit Assistance Dogs located at Anacortes, Washington State.

            These dogs are specially trained to aid folks with disabilities. Some are victims of spinal injuries and confined to a wheelchair or by an accident that leaves them unable to function without aid or perhaps they may suffer from a genetic handicap. Regardless of the affliction a service dog can provide immeasurable help, and Collingwood’s pups help fill the need.

            The non-profit company was founded in 2000 by Sue Meinzinger who just loved dogs. She had a friend who was disabled and this inspired her to look into specialized dog training and that is how “Summit Assistance Dogs” came into being. Since that time the company has grown and now has several volunteers helping. Also included on staff are two professional trainers who specialize in this type of dog training. In the past 15 years since its inception the company has trained and provided 81 dogs to grateful clients. But it hasn’t all been easy.

“Not all dogs make it through training,” Collingwood said. “For those that don’t work out we find a ‘forever home’—none are ever returned to a shelter.”

The process in acquiring and training these special animals is extensive. Collingwood said that their chief dog sources are from shelters or donated and others from their own breeding pool. One would think of “Lassie” as a perfect candidate but ironically collies don’t make good service dogs, she said. “We find that Golden Retrievers and Labradors make the best dog for training,” she explained. The natural instincts of these breeds fit in well with training.

This arduous training can take up to two years. The company works with both pups and older dogs for service. During the final part of training the dog lives with the trainer 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Only about three out of 10 dogs make it completely through the program. But for those who don’t meet the training needs some family will have the delight of getting the perfect “family” dog.

Many dogs are acquired within the limits of Washington State but there are others that come from as far as California. Regardless, if a dog shows any inclination of meeting the demands of a service dog Collingwood is willing to make the trip to check out the pup.

The most important part of the training is matching the right dog with the right client. “We do an assessment of the person and match the dog specifically to meet a person’s need,” she said. Sometimes there is a problem with placement. One hitch can be the prospective client may be allergic to the dog. Consequently no match can be made. What Collingwood wants to make sure is both the animal and new owner is compatible and happy with each other.

And what can a service dog do? Just about everything. They can open doors, pick up articles—including change, retrieve a telephone-- you name it. In fact, Collingwood recalled, she knew one disabled person who had his dog trained to go the refrigerator and get him a beer!

Now that’s training!

To prepare a dog for service work is long and demanding. They must be taught do disregard interference by other animals or people and concentrate only on their charge. That’s why it takes so long to prepare a dog for their special job. Once placed the client and dog are also provided follow-up care.

Taking a year or two to train a dog is also expensive. Adding in veterinarian bills, shots, food, housing and a trainer’s salary the cost can reach up to $25,000 Collingwood said. Trainers aren’t free. As professionals they have to be paid and what they receive in salary doesn’t even come close to what an average person makes at a steady job. All of this is a based on altruistic love. As for the person selected to get a dog they aren’t charged a dime. All income is derived from donors or fund raising activity.

Over the years Summit Assistance Dogs has grown beyond imagination. The company is now looking for property to set up a larger facility. As Collingwood explains, “We’re currently looking for a home of our own.” And with the help of donors it will be a dream come true. For those who wish to help they can reach her at www.summitdogs,org. or mail Summit Assistance Dogs, P.O. Box 699, Anacortes, WA 98221. All help is more than welcome.

JUST WHEN YOU THINK THINGS ARE GOING WELL

            Following World War II a lot of returning servicemen put to work new vocations they learned during their military experience. Many of these were those who learned how to fly. One such airman was Wayne Clevenger who started a crop dusting business at Salinas, CA.

            During the war Clevenger was a fighter pilot flying the famed North American P-51 Mustang. He saw a lot of action in Europe and at the end of the conflict he returned back to the United States, was discharged and with cash in his pocket he decided that the nearest thing to being a fighter pilot was becoming a crop duster. Buzzing across the ground at breath taking speed and only a few feet off the ground he put his “strafing” experience to good use.

            Settling near Salinas, he took advantage of the surplus airplanes that were on the market. Most newly formed crop duster operations settled on the bi-wing Stearman trainers what were sold at ridiculously low prices. At that time you could by a beautiful low time airplane for as little as $500. Other planes sold for even lower prices. Often times the gas in the airplane was worth more than the airplane.

            But for Clevenger he had a different plan. Rather than buy the famed Stearman he decided to buy used Stinson L-5’s. Why no one could figure out. If there was any airplane not adapted to the spraying industry it was the L-5!

            The airplane was a single inline engine high win, tandem two place aircraft that was used chiefly by the Army for observation, ferrying personnel and general use. It was not designed for combat fighting. None of this interfered with Clevenger’s plans however.  For what he would have had to pay for the more valued Stearman he could buy two of the Stinson’s.

            He bought 16 of them and started his spraying company.

            How he was going to utilize such an airplane as he had bought defied the imagination. But he had ideas of his own. The first thing he did was removing the inline six cylinder engines and replacing them with 220 horsepower Continental radial engines. Next he fitted Aeronca wing panels below the high wings making the airplane a “bi-wing.” Following this he took out the rear seats and put in spray tanks. But the final touch was the installation of air driven fans on each lower wing which broke up the material into a fine spray.

            Of the 16 remodeled airplanes no two flew alike. Some handled gently and others were a work in progress! One particular plane had the nasty habit of when you pulled off the power to land the nose would drop and no amount of back pressure on the elevator helped. You quickly learned that to land this “new and improved” gem it was necessary to lead with power until the wheels had touched the ground. An unwary pilot would quickly be initiated.

            The military pilots of that era were probably the best in the world. And many of them adapted to the crop dusting industry with ease. One such pilot Clevenger hired fit the bill with extraordinary talent. His name was Charlie King.

            Charlie could fly anything that had wings. Added to this he had no fear. Flying one of Clevenger’s planes for him wasn’t a test it was an adventure and he made the most of it. But he did have one flaw—he loved hard boiled eggs!

            It wasn’t unusual for Charlie to pack a few eggs in his coverall pockets when he flew.

           

When he had finished spraying a field he would climb to the dizzying altitude of maybe 50 feet and ferry back to the field satisfied and good humor. It was then he would take out one of his hard boiled eggs, crack it on the top of the control stick, peel it and take a bite. Unfortunately it was on one of these occasions that things didn’t go as planned.

Work usually started early in the morning with the sun just breaking from the east. The pilots would have their loaders service their planes, fill them with the required spray material and then take off for their assigned fields. Some of these fields were several miles from home base and by the time they arrived at their destination the fields would be aglow with morning sunshine.

On this particular morning everything seemed perfect. The temperature was comfortable and only a mild gentle breeze added to the beauty of the day. According to the law any wind over five miles per hour would shut down the application of an herbicide. But this morning Charlie was putting out an insecticide compatible with the surrounding crops.

Reaching the field he took the precaution to make a turn around the field to locate any hazards as telephone lines, irrigation stand pipes or power lines. Satisfied he gently lined up his first pass and dropped into the field. After putting out the load he pulled out of the field and headed back to home base. This is where the adventure began.

Sitting in the cockpit with the dependable engine humming, he climbed to an altitude of about 50 feet. Using his knees to steady the control stick he reached into his shirt pocket and took out an egg and gently cracked it with the aid of the stick. Looking down he peeled the delicacy and just as he looked up to put it in his mouth he flew into a tree! This was somewhat disconcerting. He managed however to swallow the egg so not too much was lost in the incident.

It was sometime in the morning that Clevenger started to get a bit nervous. His prize pilot should have been back at least two hours earlier but no word had arrived about his lateness. Then a California State Patrolman showed up in his police cruiser, stopped and Charlie stepped out. Going to the back of the patrol car the officer opened the trunk and Charlie took out an airplane battery. Rushing over to the two Clevenger asked what had happened.

Then the story came out. The patrolman said he spotted Charlie hitchhiking down the road with the battery on his shoulder and asked if he could help. Charlie said, with little embarrassment, that he was a crop duster and had hit a tree—he prudently didn’t mention the egg incident to the officer!

What baffled Clevenger most was the battery he brought back. The airplane was totally demolished, Charlie’s coveralls were tattered, and yet he took the airplane battery, hoisted on his shoulder and started walking down the road looking for a ride back the airfield when the patrolman came along. So when Clevenger asked “why” Charlie had the perfect answer.

“…Hell,” he said, “you know how those damn field workers are—they’ll steal anything!” and with that Clevenger shook his head and walked off. There was nothing else to say.

A SOLDIERS STORY, CONCLUSION

Conclusion

By DELL ARTHUR

            Now it was time for a final push into Germany itself. Gitts now assigned to the 17^th Glider Squadron, along with his outfit pushed towards the Rhine River dividing France with German. The fighting had been intense and American, English and Canadian forces were seeking a bridge that would allow them to cross into the Rhineland. The Germans successfully managed to blow up the major bridges denying Allied forces access to the homeland.

            Then at Ramagen an unforeseen opportunity happened. The bridge that had been mined with explosives failed to go off allowing American soldiers to make it across. Now holding the bridge the 17^th Division poured across before German artillery fire finally caused the bridge to collapse. But it was too little and too late.

            Gitts was assigned as a Jeep driver and the chief objective was a push to Berlin. He recalled that one of the “tricks” the Germans used was to stretch piano wire across a road. The result was an unknowing driver would easily be decapitated.

            But as a paratrooper Gitts would also fight as a regular infantryman. This nearly caused him his life. He recalled a town his outfit had just entered still contained enemy fighters. He recalled working his way along a sidewalk and when he stepped out into the open space a German sniper took aim and hit him in the back of his head. If he hadn’t been for his steel helmet he would have been dead. Falling to the ground unconscious he was bleeding copiously from the wound.  Quickly a medic came to his aid and pulled him to safety and treated him as best he could. He was then transferred to a medical aid station where doctors were able to stem the flow of blood and stabilize him. Still unconscious Gitts was loaded into an ambulance and sent off to a major hospital at Paris.

            The wound was so severe that doctors had to insert a metal plate in his skull which remained for the rest of his life. He was confined in the hospital for a month. Just before being discharged from the hospital and returned to duty, Gitts was visited by a Captain who said that he needed a Russian speaking interpreter. His knowledge of the language made him perfectly suitable for the job. He was ready to go back to work and was switched permanently to the 82^nd Airborne and put on light duty.

            And then the big disappointment; General Eisenhower made the decision to let the Russian army capture the German capital.

            By now the war in Europe was quickly nearing the end but there was still Japan to be reckoned with. On April 30, 1945 Hitler put a gun to his head and along with his new bride Eva Braun who he had just married, the two committed suicide. Shortly after surrender document was signed by the last of Germany’s high command and the war was officially over. But now the occupation forces had to divvy up what was left of Berlin.

            Berlin was divided between the American, English, Russian and French forces. Gitts recalled that the American headquarters was located only a block away from the Russian command. The Russians made it very clear that their territory was “off limits” to the
Americans. The “cold war” had just begun.

            Berlin was devastated. Gitts said that over three-fourths of the city was rubble. Allied bombers had leveled many historic buildings but the damage was necessary to war. But now it was a time for rebuilding. Assigned to the 325^th Glider Infantry office, Gitts was able to get a pass to roam throughout the western section of the city.

            By now his European duty was winding down. As a consequence of his head wound he was sent to Bremmer, Germany to await shipment back to the United States. Waiting orders he and some friends took the opportunity “to do nothing” but relax. The danger and sound of gunfire was now in the past. Not having to wake up after sleeping on the cold wet ground, hearing the whistling of shells overhead, not having to dodge being shot at and seeing close friends die in front of your eyes, the change was welcomed.

           

But the wound to his head plagued him with severe migraine headaches. The rifle and bayonet that the German soldier had stabbed him with was recovered and successfully sent home where it remained a life-long souvenir. The rifle was a German  Mouser Karabinger 98K. When he finally got home he had it converted into a hunting rifle and he used it for years hunting deer and elk.

Finally the day came when he was put aboard an Army hospital ship, the John S. Meany for shipment back to New York. So, on October 31, 1945, the ship left for America and Gitts left the horror of memories behind him. Because of a storm the trip took 16 days to make the crossing. Finally on November 15, the ship docked at Boston and he was transferred to an Army hospital. After five days Gitts was aboard a train for Washington State and a stay at Madigan Army hospital at Fort Lewis. Here he was evaluated to determine if he would receive a medical or honorable discharge from service. Because of his head injury and the migraine headaches he went under observation of 60 days before being allowed to take a furlough and go home.

After arriving home to the joy the family his mother and father was hit with hard news. His brother Victor, who had enlisted in the Coast Guard, had fallen ill with lobar pneumonia. His parents were advised that he most likely would be okay but four days later a Coast Guard officer and chaplain came to the front door to inform the family that Victor had died. Because of his brother’s death Gitts was immediately discharged.

In all Gitts served two years, fifteen days in the service of his country. He underwent horrific battles and was wounded three times. His record showed that he received three Purple Hearts, the Belgium Fourrangere, the Netherlands Orange Lanyard, a Good Conduct Medal, American European Middle Service Eastern Service Medal, Marksman Pin, Infantry Combat Badge, the Bronze Service Arrowhead, Paratroop Wings and certificate of Merit for outstanding bravery in enemy fire—all of this before his 23^rd birthday.

And now with Veteran’s Day ahead the accomplishments of men like Gitts who were once boys, have indeed proved to be our “greatest generation.”

A SOLDIERS STORY, PART 2

                                                     By DELL ARTHUR

Now that the end of fall was at hand the weather was turning miserable. By the middle of December the Germans were preparing for a last ditch assault with everything on the line.  This battle would earn the famous name as “the Battle of the Bulge,” and Getts and his 17^th Division comrades would be exposed unimaginable horror and danger.

When the Germans invaded Holland the unprepared American forces were pushed back along the entire front and nearly collapsed. One town, Bastogne was a major target since it had seven roads leading out from it. Holding this town was of most importance—losing it to the enemy would give Hitler a vital victory.

Moving up on the line the paratroopers found streams of American soldiers in full retreat. All, including his outfit were completely unprepared to take up battle. They didn’t have sufficient clothing, weapons, ammunition or food. Yet they were expected to defend the town. But being paratroopers Gitts and his buddies didn’t hesitate. Once entrenched they quickly found themselves completely surrounded. Adding to the danger and misery was the weather. Temperatures usually fell well below zero. The fighting raged for eight days before the skies cleared and American transports were able to fly in much needed supplies. In addition General George Patton and his armored division were finally able to reach the embattled town and help drive the Germans out.

Once the town was secured Gitts and his outfit continued to push on taking one town after another. The bitter fighting took the lives of many of his friends but there was no letup to the advance.

In the wintertime he recalled, the dead froze quickly just as they died. Consequently there was no odor to foul the air. But when the weather started to warm it was a different situation. The stench was overwhelming and it was an odor that never left your nostrils he said.

And it was at this time Gitts nearly gave his own life.

He and a partner were dozing in their foxhole one night when a German soldier managed to sneak up. With a bayonet attached to his rifle he spotted Getts’ foxhole and as he raised his weapon he made a thrust at Gitts. Alarmed by his partner, Gitts started to roll out of the way but the bayonet pierced his side. The only thing that saved him was the blade was deflected by an ammunition clip attached to his belt. His partner quickly killed the German but the damage had been done.

Seriously wounded Gitts was taken to a field hospital where he received emergency treatment. Following this treatment he was transferred to a major military hospital at Brussels where he remained for four days. Following that brief stay he was moved to a hospital in Paris where he continued to recuperate from the wound. Finally after a few weeks rest he was sent to Cannes, France for a week of “rest and recuperation” and then back to England.

After Gitts returned from “R and R,” he was given an extraordinary opportunity. The colonel in charge of this facilitity called him to his office and told him he qualified for reclassification as a result of his disability. He was told that there was the possibility that he could receive a medical discharge or sent back to the United States for evaluation if he was fit for combat duty. Gitts said he preferred to remain with his outfit. But since his injury prohibited his “jumping” again because of the shock of a parachute opening and reinjuring his stab wound, he was assigned to the 17^th Glider Division.

In comparison to the battle of the Ardennes Gitts recalled that combat in the Huertgen forest was worse. He cited that the constant snow, aided by the cold damp air, accounted for the misery and depression. The goal he said was to keep the Germans from securing a stronghold. Fighting in the forest was hampered by the inability of the American’s to use their armored forces. The roads were too narrow for tanks to operate and in addition the Germans had trained their artillery to selected spots where they knew the paratroopers were dug in.

Following the battle corpses of American soldiers littered the area—frozen, mutilated by German cannons, lying in grotesque positions, many missing arms, legs or heads. There were also soldiers lying dead on stretchers who were left when the Germans over ran them. According to one General who surveyed the fight, the battle should have been fought around the forest rather than through it. The result was thousands of Americans died needlessly.

(To be continued)

A SOLDERS STORY

By DELL ARTHUR

They were known as the greatest generation. This benevolent title was attributed to those men who were once boys who fought in World War II. With the passage of time accounts of those men whose exploits saved the world from the vicious dictatorships of Europe and Japan, slowly fall from memory. Some of these soldiers, sailors, marines and airmen who were engaged in this conflict were awarded the United States highest honor—the Congressional Medal of Honor. Yet the heroics of thousands of combat fighters whose heroic exploits were never recorded shared an equal place of honor. For others simply living daily under the threat of death was enough to demonstrate their valor.

But as time passes the memory of this most horrific war in the history of mankind slowly fades. New wars have continued since then to the present day but none can match the horrific death toll of the Second World War. Nor can the experiences of those who battled at that time be excelled.

The accounts of those times by the men who suffered the horror of battle are usually unrecorded. Most that fought those battles were reluctant to recount them and it was only at the insistence of the wife of one of these heroes that recorded the exploits her husband experienced and she published in a small book titled, “Private First Class—A Paratrooper’s Story,” the account of PFC Paul Gitts.

 In the prelude she states, “…The worst thing that can happen is for all of us to just gloss over World War II, as it was a long time ago, and to tell ourselves that this could never happen again. It can happen and each time it becomes more deadly. We should never become indifferent and pretend that it can’t and won’t happen again…”

In 1944 Paul Gitts was working on the family farm. His older brother just received his draft notice and being married, he wasn’t anxious to go. There was a provision however, that men working on farms were needed for the production of food and an exemption from service would be granted. Since the younger Gitts wasn’t interested in farming he went to the draft board and volunteered to take his older brothers place provided the board would allow his brother to take his place on the farm. The board agreed and Gitts soon found himself a member of the United States Army.

Following basic training he was assigned to England and a glider training school. The Allied forces had earlier on June 6, breached Hitler’s “Atlantic Wall” landing at Normandy, France. The training was accelerated and intense. Gitts, who was trained as an infantry combat soldier discovered that an Airborne Division was established in England and men who qualified would be jumping out of Douglas C47’s. Also there was an increase in pay of $25 over their regular pay for hazardous duty. Attracted to the idea he quickly volunteered. To be a paratrooper a man was selected for his toughness and endurance. Gitts displayed both. Following graduation he was assigned to the 17^th Airborne Glider Division. This was one of the most hazardous assignments a soldier could experience. It was noted that as high as 50 per cent casualties (deaths) could be expected in landing. Yet, like others, Gitts willingly accepted the risk. But when he had the opportunity to transfer to the paratroopers he did. Finally after accelerated training his outfit was ready for the real thing; combat.

Transferred to mainland Europe Gitts outfit was selected to take the town of Nijmegen, Holland and its bridge. This turned out to be one of the bitterest battles of the war and causalities were high. This particular engagement was designed and led by England’s leading general, Bernard “Monty” Montgomery. It was at Arnmen, the last bridge to be taken, that the British suffered a humiliating defeat resulting in losing more than 5,000 men. The Germans retained control of the town and bridge ending Montgomery’s plan to end the end the war quickly.

When Gitts jumped from the C47 airplane he was shot in his right hand on his way down. In his book he recounted hearing the cries and screams of those wounded and dying and bodies of soldiers hanging limply under their chutes.

On the ground the fighting was bitter. The town traded between the Germans and Gitts outfit several times before the 82^nd finally secured the assigned bridge. The battle took six days before English tanks arrived to relieve the paratroopers and Gitts and his outfit was flown back to England where he received medical treatment for his hand and to regroup and transfer to France. It was in France he learned about hedgerow fighting. Hedgerows were used instead of fences and proved an ideal cover for German machine guns. If a soldier tried to walk directly across a field he most likely was killed in an instant. Gitts learned to be savvy in a hurry. This shrewdness would turn out to save his life a second time.

(To be continued)