The few surviving members of the Greatest Generation from
Wyoming who fought in World War II are now nearing 100 years old or even older.
A few weeks
ago would have marked my dad’s 100th birthday. He died 19 years ago and was
proud of his service in World War II. He has been on my mind a lot lately.
He was an
Irish Catholic businessman in a little town in Northeast Iowa most of his life.
But he always
said he spent 13 of the most fun years of his life here in Wyoming. He moved my
mom and three youngest siblings to Lander in 1978.
My three youngest brothers, Jerry,
Ron, and Don graduated from Lander Valley High School and also the University
of Wyoming. Ron works in Cheyenne as
executive director of the Wyoming Education Association. Although she did not
go to high school here, my sister Susan Kinneman is a teacher in Fort Washakie
and lives in Riverton.
Our mother
will celebrate her 95th birthday in Broomfield, CO.
But back to my
dad.
He was a member
of the Greatest Generation that served during World War II. He served in the
363rd Engineers Co, which was charged with building camps and bases. “Seems
like we always built the Officers’ Clubs first,” he used to joke.
He spent most of his time in
Tehran, Iran, and I can remember marveling at a dagger and a sword he brought
home along with various dishes, plates, plaques, and rugs. Many of them had “Persian Gulf Command”
inscribed on them.
As a young
Iowa kid he got to see a lot of the world.
He sailed across the Pacific on a voyage that lasted 57 days. He visited Egypt twice and among the family
heirlooms are photos of him in front of the pyramids.
Perhaps the
most exciting part of the war for him, after four years, was getting out. The
guys in his unit were afraid they would fight with Japan. But each day, a
certain number of guys would be given their discharge slips and would head
home.
Finally, he
got his.
He boarded a
plane and flew with stops at Cairo, Tripoli, and Casablanca before boarding a
C-54 for a flight back to the states.
Once in Miami, he got on trains that took him back to his home in
Wadena, Iowa. He arrived there on July 6, 1945.
(I might point out that I was born eight and half months later – the
first real baby boomer!)
Dad described
his service in WW II as, “A million
dollar experience that I wouldn’t give 10 cents to experience again.”
I remember dad
as a very honest person. He always
emphasized that we must never lie. When I was growing up at home, he emphasized
to me that I had never lied to him.
On one
occasion when I was about l2, one of my brothers had pulled some stunt. I
don`t remember what it was, but I remember the aftermath like it was yesterday.
Dad called me
aside and firmly told me, "Bill, I know you`d never lie to me. Now, look me in the eye and tell me what you
boys have been up to."
I don`t
remember what I told him, but I do remember I looked him in the eye and I
lied!
So what kind
of man was dad? I would say he measured
up pretty well if you note the unconditional love given him by his wife Betty
for nearly 60 years.
Dad was an Irishman. He had freckles and always a twinkle in his
eye and a great sense of humor.
In his old
age, he had become the perfect grandfather figure. He could tell you exactly
which of the kids or grandkids were travelling and he would monitor the weather
and say prayers to get them safely where they were going.
One of my forever visions of him is
seeing him asleep in his favorite chair with a little baby also asleep on his
chest.
My dad was a man of high principle,
lofty ambitions, and passionate political beliefs. He stressed education to his children and
pushed them to achieve their highest potential.
It is interesting that at the time of his death in 2000, his 11 kids had
accumulated 44 years of college education – an average of four years per child.
Finally in 1978 with the Iowa
economy crumbling, dad left that pretty Iowa valley and moved west to Wyoming. We
were sure glad.
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