"Old soldier memories stirred on Veteran's, Armistice Days" from the October 28, 1976 Door County Advocate
Old soldier memories stirred on Veteran’s, Armistice Days
By JOHN ENIGL
This year, in a nation at peace, Veteran’s Day passes almost unnoticed. Legally, observance of the day was Monday, Oct. 25, but some veteran’s groups prefer to hold to the original day, Nov. 11. A unique atmosphere is created by the fact that nowhere in the world are American military personnel fighting and dying. This might be the time to talk about some of our soldiering experiences not directly related to war.
Earl Staats, of rural Sturgeon Bay, certainly had an experience he'll never forget, for he was the last G.I. to talk to General George Patton before his untimely death.
"I was stationed in Germany in 1945, after the war ended, working at a motor pool," Earl says. "General Patton had just been transferred to a job of little importance, because of his attitude about the Russians. He would just as soon have kept on going west after the capture of Berlin. Patton felt the Russians were just as much of a menace to the world as Hitler. Of course, since they had been on our side, the High Command couldn't let him do that.
"Patton and his driver stopped at the motor pool one day and started to chat with us. He was an arrogant cuss, but he didn't mind talking to the G.Is. 'I'm having a little trouble right now,' Patton said. 'They've put me where I can't do any harm. But just wait a couple of weeks and I'll be back on top.'
"With that, he and his driver took off around the corner.
"Several minutes later, we heard a terrible crash. We jumped into a jeep and took off to see what had happened. Only a few blocks away, we came upon the accident scene. Patton's car had been hit by a big Army 4X4 broadside. The "meat wagon," we called the clumsy, bumpy Army ambulances, had already hauled Patton away. But they thought Patton wasn't seriously injured - the others in the car looked worse off. They didn't know he had a broken neck, so they actually killed him by the way they handled him.
"As long as I live, I will never forget that scene. To this day, if I saw Patton's grey 1942 Plymouth, I could tell you it was the same car I saw that day."
Eugene "Pete" Erskine, who grew up in Jacksonport, had a strange experience while in basic training in World War II. "I was stationed at a lonely army camp out west, miles from anywhere, amidst the mountains and desert. That suited me fine, because I was always interested in tramping around and seeing what kinds of plants, animals and rocks I could find. So, one day when I had some time off, I took off by myself and went on a hike out on the desert.
"When I got back, one of the guys said, 'A truck came this afternoon and delivered "C" rations. We're supposed to live off them for the next two weeks.' 'Where's mine?' I said. 'Over there in the truck,' he answered."
"But when I got over to the truck there was no more left. Was I mad! I had to live off what I could beg off the other guys for the next two weeks!"
So, Pete got a lesson in "living off the land," which, fortunately, he never had to use in wartime.
The late Hubert E. Siepmann was a good friend of George Hoslett and mine and was a summer visitor of Door County. He told this story:
"During World War II, I was in the Air Force, stationed at Casper, Wyoming. Since I was a radio amateur, they put me in charge of repairing radio equipment.
"One day a bomber came in that had lost its radio communications completely. I was ordered to go out and try to find out what was wrong. As I walked out to the bomber, I got close enough to see the pilot. For my part, I needed no introduction. The pilot was Capt. Jimmy Stewart, the movie actor.
"So, for about two hours, Jimmy Stewart and I checked the radio equipment over completely. We came to the conclusion that the batteries were dead. We installed a new set and everything was back to normal.
"We could hear Jimmy Stewart call into the airport at Iowa City, so I knew I had found the trouble. And I can always say I spent a couple of hours with Jimmy Stewart."
August "Milton" Fleischmann was about 34 years of age when he was called into the military service, nearly middle aged if we want to accept some definitions of middle age. He had worked for his father at various farms in Jacksonport and Nasewaupee all his life and, as all farmers must, had to learn to do many jobs, some of which were dangerous. This versatility almost led to his undoing after he entered the army in the second World War.
After basic training, Milton wound up in Special Services in Hobbs, New Mexico. This was kind of a special category, where you would never have to carry a gun or face an enemy. Special Services, among other duties, had charge of providing rest and recuperation for battle weary G.I's.
In this capacity, Milton worked with a crew whose job it was to build a swimming pool for the camp. Blasting with dynamite was required because of stubborn rock a little below the surface.
Now, Milton had often blasted stumps in Door County, and of course, had the experience of blasting our good Door County rock to plant a cherry tree or put in a basement. So, to the younger G.I's and younger officers, he looked as if he knew what he was doing.
To those of us who knew Milton (who told me this story shortly before his death), we would say that he sometimes operated with an over amount of confidence. And he must have inspired confidence in his fellow soldiers and officers as he went about placing the charges, wiring up the blasting caps, stringing the wires and detonating the charges. Remember, to them, age meant experience and knowledge.
One day Milton's lieutenant said, "I have to testify at a court martial today, Milton, so I'm placing you in charge."
This was fine with Milton. He went about as usual, placing charges, leading his group of awed young soldiers.
"Everything went fine," said Milton, "except when I set off the charges. After the smoke cleared, I found I (1) had blown a rock through the PX; (2) had blown a rock through the post office; (3) had blown a hole through a jeep and injured a lieutenant so that he had to spend six weeks in a hospital.
"That was the last blasting I did. You know, I can't understand why they discharged me from the army in 1944. The war was still going on!"
A few months ago Calvary United Methodist Church of Egg Harbor was slated to get a new preacher, Rev. Joseph M. Burke. "He was in the Navy for 20 years," someone said. I returned, "Fine, a former Navy chaplain." `He was no chaplain; he was a lieutenant commander of a P.T. boat in World War II," my friend returned.
But why wasn't he content to live on pension, I thought. I soon found out what had turned him to the Lord's work.
"One day, 20 years ago, I was on board ship when all of a sudden I fell to the deck. 'I can't let the men see me like this,' I said to myself. I got up and went about my duties. A few days later it happened again, only this time I had to take to my bunk for a while. The third time it happened, I found myself in the sick bay, unable to talk or move. 'Well, this man is dead,' said a doctor, but I'm going to show you how we'd do a heart massage if there was any chance of him being alive.'
"When I started to talk, the doctor said, 'But you're dead!' 'No,' I said, 'I was alive all the while but I just couldn't tell you about it!'
"Well, that's when I decided the Lord was pointing me in a different direction, so here I am!"
And there are the stories any soldier could tell about basic training. I saw how tough Fort Leonard Wood was for my brother, Charles, "I'll always have a live round for one sergeant," said Charles at the time - and so said many other Door County soldiers. But the sergeant's tough methods, based on his experiences in Korea, probably saved the lives of many who later went to Viet Nam.
Aside from the obvious danger of being in a war, the military service offered many a chance to travel for the first time, to be away from home and on their own.
And, regardless if we celebrate Oct. 25 or Nov. 11 as Veteran’s Day, we can remember with pride the day when one of our family members came home wearing the uniform of his country.
A common picture in many family albums. Pvt. Charles Enigl home on furlough from Fort Leonard Wood and pictured with his parents, Mr. and Mrs. John Enigl Sr. and brother, John Jr.
[The apostrophe in Veteran’s is retained from the original, even though it is presently Veterans Day. PX is for “Post exchange”, a retail store on the camp.]
Courtesy of the Door County Library Newspaper Archive
Other articles by John Enigl