American Legion

November 2 2019

Petty Officer Second Class Arnold Fernandes, U.S. Coast Guard – From the Aleutian Islands in World War II to the Korean War

Service Photo of Arnold Fernandes in 1942 — Arnold Fernandes in the Coast Guard in 1942

The bravery of the men and women in the United States Coast Guard is legendary. They set sail in the most hazardous weather conditions to rescue mariners and migrants at sea and to interdict smugglers trying to bring illegal drugs to our shores. The Coast Guard is also a military service, with ships and crews in harm’s way taking the fight to the enemy sometimes far from our shores. No story better exemplifies the bravery, heroism, and commitment of the men and women of the Coast Guard than that of Petty Officer Second Class Arnold Fernandes, who served in the Coast Guard during World War II and the Navy during the Korean War. This is his story.

Arnold’s parents immigrated to the United States from Portugal, initially settling in Gloucester, Massachusetts, where Arnold was born in January 1924. Arnold’s father was a commercial fisherman, plying his trade in the unforgiving waters of the north Atlantic until 1926, when he moved the family to the more hospitable environment of southern California. There they settled into the Portuguese fishing community of Point Loma, a beautiful, hilly peninsula bordered on the west by the Pacific Ocean and on the east by San Diego Bay. Arnold lived in Point Loma through his junior year of high school, but moved to Chula Vista in San Diego County for his senior year. He graduated from Sweetwater High School in June of 1941 and enrolled in the fall at San Diego State College.

Photo of the Coast Guard Cutter Perseus — Coast Guard Cutter Perseus (WPC 114)

After a little more than a year of college and with World War II raging in Europe and across the Pacific, Arnold and three of his best friends from San Diego State decided to enlist in the Coast Guard. The Coast Guard was well-respected in the fishing community, and Arnold held it in high esteem. In fact, in the late 1930’s, the Coast Guard saved his father’s life after his father became very ill on his fishing vessel while operating off the coast of Mexico. So, it was only natural that on November 5, 1942, Arnold raised his right hand and answered the Coast Guard call of duty. Without being given uniforms or training, he and his three friends were immediately sent to the Coast Guard Cutter Perseus, which was homeported in San Diego. Arnold became a “sonar striker”, which meant he would be trained to send high-pitched pings through the water using the ship’s sonar equipment. When the pings bounced off the hull of a lurking submarine, he could pinpoint its location and help vector his ship in for attack.

Unfortunately, sonar training wasn’t available on board the Perseus, so Arnold transferred to Naval Station San Diego to attend sonar school. He graduated in early 1943 with the rank of Petty Officer Third Class, and, with a logic only those who have served in the military can appreciate, was detailed to a small patrol boat in San Pedro, California, that had no sonar capability. Instead, he was given quartermaster duties, which meant he was charged with helping to navigate the boat. The boat’s Executive Officer was a famous actor, Henry Wilcoxon, who had leading roles in a number of Cecille B. DeMille films and also starred in movies with the likes of Vivien Leigh and Lawrence Olivier. Arnold remembers Wilcoxon getting a kick out of watching him dive off the ship’s bridge for man overboard drills.

Map of the Aleutian Islands — The Aleutian Islands in the northern Pacific Ocean

Patrolling off the coast of sunny San Diego in early 1943 was short-lived. After about one month, Arnold transferred to the Coast Guard Cutter Aurora in the Aleutian Islands. In a little known theater of the war, the Japanese had invaded the islands of Attu and Kiska in the Aleutians in June of 1942 as a diversion for their planned invasion of Midway Island, further south. That gave the Japanese bases on U.S. soil from which they could attack U.S. ships and facilities on other islands in the Aleutian chain. Arnold realized this first-hand when he arrived at the U.S. Navy base in Dutch Harbor on Amaknak Island en route to the Aurora. There he saw a repair ship smoldering after being bombed by the Japanese. With the smoke rising over the harbor, Arnold realized for the first time he was in the middle of a war. He continued west to the Navy base on Adak Island, where the Aurora was homeported. This time the ship did have sonar, as its primary duties were anti-submarine patrol, search and rescue, and escort duty.

In May of 1943, the Aurora sailed with the U.S. task force charged with retaking Attu and Kiska Islands from the Japanese. The U.S. landed troops on Attu Island on May 11, 1943, without adequate equipment and under horrible weather conditions. The operation culminated on May 29^th, when the Japanese commander led one of the largest Banzai attacks of the war against the unsuspecting Americans, breaking through the American lines and into the rear echelon. The attack was subsequently beaten back with heavy losses and complete annihilation of the Japanese attackers—only 28 enlisted men survived out of a force of around 2500. The U.S. suffered nearly 4,000 casualties retaking Attu, including 549 killed in action. The invasion is seared in Arnold’s memory.

Arnold Fernandes operating sonar for a picture in Stars and Stripes Magazine 1943 — Arnold operating sonar onboard the Aurora in 1943. The photo appeared in Stars & Stripes magazine.

Several other events stand out for Arnold in 1943. On one occasion when the Aurora was patrolling off Attu Island, Arnold was serving as the duty sonarman and made a definite contact with what he believes was a Japanese 2-man submarine trying to position itself to torpedo the Aurora. The Aurora went to general quarters and the crew manned all the ship’s guns. The ship also dropped depth charges and fired hedge hogs, and eventually the hedge hogs scored a hit, exploding when one made contact with the submarine. Although Arnold does not believe the engagement was recorded in the ship’s log, he is certain of both the contact and the resulting hit.

On another occasion, the Aurora rescued the crew of a downed PBY-Catalina patrol aircraft. The plane’s crew was laying on the wing, half-frozen in the frigid weather off the Aleutians. Then, on July 19, 1943, the Aurora was called upon to rescue the crew of the cable laying ship Dellwood, which had struck a rock while laying cable between Dutch Harbor and the outlying Aleutian Islands. The Aurora saved the crew without loss of life, but the Dellwood sank in Massacre Bay, the site of the U.S. Army’s landings on Attu Island.

Arnold’s most harrowing experience occurred on December 11, 1943, when the Aurora and the other ships in Task Force 8.6 were ordered to return to Adak Harbor to seek shelter from a mammoth storm heading toward them with 200 mile-per-hour wind gusts. On the way to the harbor, the Aurora’s starboard side started to ice up and the ship began to list from the weight. With the wind and waves tossing the 165-foot vessel to and fro, crewmembers went onto the main deck and, after securing themselves with safety lines, began to chip away the ice using fire axes. Although they were able to clear away a lot of the ice, the seas became so rough that the Captain gave up the effort and ordered all hands below deck. The men were further directed to secure all watertight hatches.

Miraculously, the Aurora made it safely to Adak Harbor with the rest of the fleet, consisting of battleships, cruisers, destroyers, and support ships. However, unlike the rest of the fleet, the Aurora received orders to immediately turn around and search for two missing Liberty ships believed to have cracked in half with their crews in imminent peril of loss. When the Captain asked if there was time to take on fresh water and fuel, he was told “no, carry out your orders.” The Captain did, again ordering the crew below deck with hatches secured, and the small ship set out into the raging storm.

As the ship made headway, Arnold stood duty in the sonar room located just behind the bridge. It was then that the Captain and the Executive Officer entered the compartment and put the Aurora’s documents into a 2-foot-wide by 3-foot-long by 2-foot-deep brass box with 1-inch holes drilled into it. Arnold hadn’t paid much attention to the brass box before, but now he realized it was designed to make sure the ship’s papers and codes would not float to the surface and be captured by the Japanese in the event the ship sunk. He also realized the Captain’s and Executive Officer’s actions meant they both believed there was a good chance the ship would be lost in the storm.

Arnold in front of the Lincoln Memorial in 2015 as part of an Honor Flight for veterans — Arnold in front of the Lincoln Memorial as part of an Honor Flight for veterans in 2015

The Aurora’s orders were to look for the Liberty ships SS John P. Gaines and SS Chief Washakie. They never found the John P. Gaines because it had actually broken in half and sank on November 24^th with the loss of ten crewmembers. As the weather began to subside, they did find the Chief Washaki, a 422-foot Liberty ship built in 1942, with her bow starting to break away just forward of the bridge. Fortunately, the crew was safe and had secured the bow to the hull using chains to keep it from completely breaking away. Given that the Aurora was less than half the size of the Chief Washaki, she was unable tow the damaged vessel to safety. So, with the Chief Washaki crew safely manning the damaged ship, the Aurora stood by until help arrived.

After the Chief Washaki rescue, the Aurora returned to Adak and then sailed to Bremerton Naval Shipyard in Seattle, Washington, to repair the damage it sustained in the storm. The Aurora had lost all of her lifeboats, her decks were warped, and the ship’s 3-inch guns were torn loose from their deck mounts. Arnold and his fellow crewmembers do not know how the ship stayed afloat, but they thanked God for her seaworthiness. In fact, one of the crewmembers wrote a poem about the resilient little ship: “The Aurora is a mighty ship we call the ‘A’. She doesn’t run on steam, she doesn’t run on hay. She just bobs around like a cork, that’s what we like about the ‘A’”. Another shipmate wrote on a Christmas menu: “After two years in the Aleutians there’s one thing we can tell, when we die we’ll go to heaven ‘cause we served our hitch in hell.”

Arnold did not escape his time on Aurora unscathed. During a storm, he fell down two decks and severely injured his tailbone. He was transferred to the Naval Hospital on Adak where he underwent three surgeries. After recuperating for one month, he was sent back to the Aurora, and then to Seattle, where he underwent yet another surgery and further rehabilitation. When he was finally released, he was given orders to the Coast Guard Education Office in Seattle, where he replaced a Chief Petty Officer being discharged. His duties involved checking in movie projectors from ships returning from duty and showing war documentaries to the Admiral and his staff.

Arnold was discharged from the Coast Guard on January 11, 1946. His father had become very ill from cancer, so Arnold hurried home to be with him. He did not make it in time—his father died while Arnold was on his way home from Seattle.

Newspaper article describing sinking of the Sun Beauty — Newspaper article describing the sinking of the Sun Beauty

After the war, Arnold tried his hand at several jobs, including working on his brother’s 100-foot, 130-ton tuna fishing boat, the Sun Beauty, out of San Diego. On July 10, 1947, Arnold, his brother Clarence, and ten other crewmembers set sail from San Diego headed for the tropical eastern Pacific in search of tuna. Early on the morning of the 11^th after Arnold had come off watch and bedded down, the ship began to roll in the heavy seas preceding a coming storm. One roll was so severe, it wedged Arnold against the starboard side of his bunk and the ship did not right itself. He roused the navigator sleeping below him and said the ship was about to capsize. They scurried out of the compartment just as water began to rush in.

When Arnold and the navigator climbed out onto the main deck, they found Clarence telling the crew to remain calm. He warned them not to jump into the water as they would likely never be found. Instead, after accounting for the entire crew, Clarence directed them to climb into the fishing net tender skiff, which was still seaworthy, before the Sun Beauty sank. For some unknown reason, Arnold salvaged a bottle of Seagram’s VO and a can of asparagus, but essentially everything else in the Sun Beauty was lost. Arnold can still picture the stern of the ship sinking below the waves, with the words Sun Beauty and San Diego visible until the very end. It only took fifteen minutes for the Sun Beauty to go down.

Clarence headed the skiff in the direction of the coast, but it was so slow and the seas so rough that there was no way they could outrun nightfall and the impending storm. They saw a couple of tuna boats on the horizon heading for the port of Punta Colonet in Baja California, but they could not attract their attention. Around 5:00 p.m., they spotted another boat heading toward Punta Colonet. Realizing this might be their last chance, Arnold picked up the can of asparagus, polished the top of it, and used it to flash an “SOS” in Morse code by reflecting the setting sun’s rays. Unbelievably, it worked, and the small boat turned in their direction. When the boat reached the skiff, its two-man crew threw a line to the skiff and towed it to Punta Colonet. The Sun Beauty’s crew was saved by Arnold’s quick thinking and a can of asparagus!

The next day, the Coast Guard Cutter Perseus, Arnold’s very first ship, arrived in Punta Colonet to take the crew of the Sun Beauty back to San Diego. The Perseus gave them each food and water and a pair of jeans and a t-shirt so they wouldn’t have to land in San Diego in their shorts. It’s hard to imagine, but Arnold had survived two years in the icy, war-ravaged waters around the Aleutian Islands only to almost be killed off Baja California’s sunny coast. It didn’t stop Arnold and his brother, though, as two weeks later they had a new boat, the Sea Wolf, and were sailing back to the eastern Pacific in search of Tuna.

Arnold also was active in the Navy Reserve after the war, and he was recalled to active duty in the Navy as a Second Class Petty Officer from August 28, 1950, to February 1, 1952. This time he served as a sonar operator on the Destroyer Escort USS Walton, operating off the coast of California training submarines and sonar teams, and performing escort and other duties as assigned. He was formally discharged from the U.S. Naval Reserve on July 31^st, 1953.

After the Korean War, Arnold returned to the family business, working on Clarence’s commercial tuna fishing boat. He eventually transitioned to the Van Camp Sea Food Company as the Fleet Operations Manager, and retired in 1980 from Bumble Bee Sea Foods.

Arnold moved to Cardiff by the Sea in 1979, where he served as a director on the Cardiff Town Council. He is a life member of the Cardiff Chamber of Commerce, the Cardiff Town Council, and the Friends of the Cardiff by the Sea Library. As if that wasn’t enough, he is active in American Legion Post 416 in Encinitas, California. Arnold still lives in Cardiff by the Sea with his wonderful wife, Anna.

Voices to Veterans is proud to salute Petty Officer Second Class Arnold Fernandes for his selfless service to our country in the Coast Guard and the Navy. He served with distinction in the unforgiving waters of the northern Pacific around the Aleutian Islands, knowing that every voyage could be his last and risking his life to rescue others from the perils of the sea. Even when he returned to civilian life, he continued to serve his community through both business and government. Arnold, we thank you for all you have done defending our freedom, and we wish you fair winds and following seas!

Thank you letter to Arnold Fernandes from President Harry Truman

April 9 2019

Airman Ronnie Turner-Winston, U.S. Air Force, Lifetime of Service

Airman Ronnie Turner-Winston

Airman Ronnie Turner-Winston, U.S. Air Force, is the kind of veteran I have always admired. She enlisted in the Air Force, served her country in time of war, then returned to civilian life where she serves as a role model for everyone she comes into contact with. She had me laughing and smiling as she told me about her Air Force experience, and I think she will have you doing the same. She will also make you feel proud. This is her story.

Ronnie was born and raised in Washington, D.C., by a single mother. It’s clear from Ronnie’s description her mother is her hero. Her mom had Ronnie while she was still a teenager, which meant her mother had to leave high school during her junior year. Her mother was determined, though, to be both a good mother and a good provider, so she earned her GED and then took classes at the University of the District of Columbia. Ronnie jokes that she should have been awarded the same degree her mother received because she attended 90% of the classes with her mom since her mom couldn’t afford day care. She remembers the look on the faces of her mom’s professors at the start of every semester when her mom would bring her to class for the first time. The professors would scowl, but Ronnie’s mom promised Ronnie would be quiet during class, which she was. This was the beginning of Ronnie’s lifelong love of education.

Airman Turner-Winston's Chapel Management Class — Airman Turner-Winston’s Chapel Management Class

When Ronnie was in high school, her family moved from Washington, D.C., to Riverdale, Maryland, where she attended Bladensburg High School. When she reached the end of her junior year, she realized she had no plan for the future. Her mother hadn’t applied to colleges while in high school, so she couldn’t advise Ronnie on what she needed to do. Ronnie did take the SAT, but not the next step of applying to colleges for admission. Ronnie needed someone to point her in the right direction—that’s when the military recruiters stepped in.

Ronnie took the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery (ASVAB) and scored in the upper 90^th percentiles. Recruiters for all four military services reached out to her, but it was the Air Force that caught her eye. The Air Force said they were very selective and that won Ronnie out. She enlisted in the delayed entry program and waited for her active duty report date to arrive. In the meantime, she graduated from high school and took classes at the University of Maryland during the fall semester. After she completed the classes, her recruiter began to pester her to provide him with a copy of her transcripts. At age 17 going on 18, obtaining a copy of her transcripts was not a priority for her, so she never got around to it. A few short months later, she would learn why it should have been a priority.

Ronnie reported for active duty in January of the year after she graduated from high school. She boarded an evening flight from Washington, D.C., to San Antonio, Texas. This was the first time she had ever flown in an airplane alone, and she remembers being in awe when she arrived late in the evening in San Antonio. She thought the airport was so cool, she and a couple of other new recruits she met on the flight walked around just soaking it all in. What they didn’t know was that while they were walking around, the bus to Basic Training at Lackland Air Force Base (AFB) arrived and the Training Instructor (TI) had to hold up the bus waiting for them. When they finally made it to the bus, the TI yelled at them for being late and told them no one had authorized them to walk around. With no prior exposure to the military, Ronnie’s only thought was “what have I gotten myself into?”

Airman Turner-Winston promotion ceremony

The bus arrived at Lackland AFB around 2:00 a.m. and Ronnie was exhausted. The TI explained on the bus that they would be going to the chow hall to get something to eat. He also said recruits would be expected to drink two glasses of water with every meal to help protect them from the heat in San Antonio. Still not grasping she was no longer a civilian, Ronnie asked the TI if she could skip the chow hall and go directly to her barracks to get some sleep since it had been such a long day. This resulted in the TI recalibrating Ronnie for a second time, and she hadn’t even started in-processing yet. In the end, she drank her water and got checked in, beginning her tour in the Air Force.

Ronnie remembers an Asian-American woman in her flight of trainees who had long, beautiful black hair. It was so long, Ronnie estimated it had to weigh at least 5 pounds. The Air Force wouldn’t make her cut it as long as it remained neatly styled on her head. The problem was, it was so heavy, it kept falling off—sometimes during formation—so Ronnie and some of the other women in her flight tried to help style the woman’s hair so it would stay in place. Once Ronnie even broke formation to help the woman put her hair back in place. As you would expect, all of these instances resulted in angry TIs yelling at those involved, but the real result was increased camaraderie in the unit as the flight pulled together to help one of its own.

Ronnie hadn’t gotten any commitment before she enlisted regarding what job she would do. When the job specialty discussions began, she gravitated toward becoming a chapel manager. She had grown up in the church so it was a natural fit for her. When she learned she could also have time off during the week because she would work weekends at the chapel, she was all in. So, after graduating from Basic Training, Ronnie headed off for eight weeks of Chapel Management School at Keesler AFB near Biloxi, Mississippi. Ronnie made lasting friendships at Chapel Management School and still maintains contact with her classmates to this day.

Ronnie graduated from Chapel Management School as an Airman Basic (E-1). Had she provided her University of Maryland transcripts to her recruiter, she might have qualified for a higher paygrade and more money, but it was too late for that now. She reported to her first duty station at the chapel on Wright-Patterson AFB near Dayton, Ohio. Her first choice was Andrews AFB just outside of Washington, D.C., but Wright-Patterson was still a good location because her stepfather’s family lived in Dayton. Shortly after Ronnie arrived, a junior chapel manager at Chanute AFB in Rantoul, Illinois, wanted to swap duty stations with Ronnie, which the Air Force allowed. Thinking a few additional miles from Washington, D.C., wouldn’t matter, Ronnie accepted the transfer to Chanute.

Airman Turner-Winston standing ceremonial guard at Chanute Air Force Base. — Airman Turner-Winston standing ceremonial guard

Ronnie loved her assignment at the Chanute chapel, which was a very close-knit community. She especially enjoyed volunteering for any ceremonial duties like parades or standing special guard duty, but there were much more mundane duties involved, as well. For example, one of the first things she was told to do was to make the weekly deposit at the base bank. Much to everyone’s surprise, Ronnie said she couldn’t do it because she didn’t have a driver’s license. For the next two weeks, Father Raul taught her how to drive using his car, which was stick shift. Once Ronnie learned to drive, Father Raul even helped her get her first car. The next surprise came when she was asked to shovel snow—she had never had to do that in Washington, D.C., where it snowed so infrequently and melted so quickly that shoveling was never an issue. She learned quickly in Illinois, though, that shoveling snow around the chapel was part of her job description.

In late 1990, war came to the Middle East when Iraq invaded Kuwait. Having grown up during the relative peace of the Cold War, Ronnie hadn’t expected the United States to be involved in an armed conflict, although the U.S. intervention in Panama in 1989 certainly alerted her to the possibility. Yet, when Desert Storm came, Ronnie was the first person in her chapel to get orders. She deployed in support of Desert Storm for approximately two-and-a-half months. It was an experience she will remember for the rest of her life.

After the Gulf War ended, Ronnie returned to the chapel at Chanute, where she continued her duties. When she was nearing the end of her initial four-year enlistment, she was asked to reenlist for another four years so she could be given orders. Ready to settle down, Ronnie decided not to reenlist and instead took the opportunity for an early out. She was discharged in September 1993 after serving over three years on active duty.

Once back in the civilian world, Ronnie completed cosmetology school. Although she enjoyed the work, she changed jobs and took a position in Human Resources at Parkland Community College in Champaign, Illinois. Her Parkland job re-opened the doors to her education. She went on to earn her Associate’s Degree from Parkland and her Bachelor’s and Master’s Degrees from Eastern Illinois University, all while raising her family. She loves learning so much, she is currently pursuing her Doctor of Education degree in organizational leadership with Grand Canyon University.

Ronnie has gone far beyond studying leadership—she practices it in the community every day. In fact, Ronnie believes everyone must take responsibility for supporting their community. For Ronnie, this means serving as the Adjutant for American Legion Post 559 and as a member of VFW Post 5520, and as the Veterans Affairs Representative for the Champaign County NAACP. She is also seeking to establish a local chapter of the National Association of Black Veterans (NABVETS). On top of all that, Ronnie is committed to her four children and two grandchildren, a commitment she reinforces by serving as an officer in both the Urbana High School and Middle School PTSAs.

Voices To Veterans salutes Airman Ronnie Turner-Winston for her outstanding service to our nation in the Air Force during the Gulf War and for her continued commitment to public service in the community. She is an outstanding role model, exemplifying duty and honor in everything she does.

Ronnie Winston-Turner, Adjutant for American Legion Post 559 — Ronnie Turner-Winston, Adjutant for American Legion Post 559

September 18 2018

Staff Sergeant Samuel D. High, U.S. Army – Called Up for Duty in Vietnam 1968-69

I am often amazed at how humble veterans are when they describe their experiences heading off to war. I cannot imagine the emotions, the patriotism, the fear, and the camaraderie that must have pulsed through their veins as they left everything familiar behind to board a ship or plane bound for the ultimate unknown. That describes Staff Sergeant Sam High to a tee—a citizen soldier who joined the Army Reserve because he saw a storm brewing in Southeast Asia and wanted to do his part. When the call came, he did his duty with dignity and honor. This is his story.

Sam was born on May 4, 1944, in Lonoke County, Arkansas. His father was a sharecropper, but he gave up farming and moved his family to Chicago where he worked in a bicycle factory. By 1957 he had paid off his debts, so he moved the family back to Arkansas when Sam was in the 8^th grade. Sam went on to graduate from North Little Rock High School in 1962 and entered the working world. At one point he worked at a lumber company where his dad was his boss, but his father told him he needed to find a better job. Heeding his father’s advice, Sam took a position as a file clerk at the Veterans Administration (VA) Regional Benefits Office in Little Rock, beginning what would turn out to be a 38-year career with the VA.

Two years before starting with the VA, Sam joined the Army Reserve because he saw things heating up in Vietnam and he felt like he needed to do something. He did his Basic Training at Fort Polk, Louisiana, known as Fort Puke among the soldiers training there. Sam hadn’t really been away from home before boot camp, so it was initially intimidating. He called everyone “sir” no matter what rank they were, but also notes he was in the best shape of his life. After boot camp he got two weeks off, then he returned to Fort Polk for Advanced Individual Training (AIT) where he learned to be a company clerk. All told, his boot camp and AIT lasted about 18 weeks (9 weeks each).

After completing his training, Sam returned to Arkansas to integrate into his Reserve unit. Following Reserve requirements, he drilled one weekend each month and two weeks each year at Camp Joseph T. Robinson, a huge military base in North Little Rock, Arkansas, as well as at Fort Chaffee, also in Arkansas. His unit was initially an artillery unit, but in 1966 it reorganized to become Headquarters Company, 336^th Ordnance Battalion. The newly reorganized unit drilled at the Finkbeiner Armory at Little Rock Airport. Throughout this time, Sam continued to work with the VA, which was very supportive of his Army Reserve service.

In April of 1968, Sam’s mother called him at work. She was crying and told him his unit was being called up for active duty. This was just after the 1968 Tet Offensive in Vietnam, so both Sam and his parents knew what being called up meant – he was likely going to Vietnam. Sam called his unit to get more information, but even the unit hadn’t received formal notification yet. Sam’s view was the Army had trained him with a rifle, so he always knew there might come a time when they would call him and ask him to use it. He’d also heard rumors that there was a chance the unit would go to Japan, but Sam figured if he was going to get called up and shipped overseas, he’d rather it be to Vietnam so he could do his part.

Sam was single, so it was relatively easy for him to deploy on short notice. Still, his parents were getting older and had some health issues, tempering the excitement somewhat. Some of the other members of the unit had wives and children, so it was tougher for them to prepare. Regardless, they were officially called to active duty on May 13, 1968. Then, in June 1968, after filling out mounds of paperwork associated with their deployment, approximately 100 men from Headquarters Company, 336^th Ordnance Battalion, marched with their unloaded M-14 rifles from the Finkbeiner Armory to the commercial plane that would carry them to Fort Carson, Colorado.

At Fort Carson, Sam and his unit trained for their upcoming deployment. They traded in their M‑14s for M-16s, attended classroom training about their mission and how to execute it, spent time in the field, and participated in escape and evasion training in the event they were captured. By late September 1968 they were ready, so Sam and the rest of Headquarters Company departed before daylight in an Air Force C-141 Starlifter for their flight to the Republic of South Vietnam.

The Company arrived at the massive U.S. air base in Da Nang on September 26, 1968. Their initial assignment was actually in Da Nang, relatively close to the South China Sea, although some soldiers were assigned further up the coast in Quang Tri Province. Sam remained in Da Nang and helped the unit build its “hooches” (living quarters made from 2X4s and plywood with sandbags on the roof) and a nearby bunker that could provide cover from incoming mortars and rocket fire for about 50 soldiers. Sam was a Specialist 5 at the time, and his primary responsibilities involved the record-keeping side of ordnance. He worked in a 3-person section from noon to midnight, keeping inventories of the ordnance units had and dealing with emergency calls for ammunition. When an emergency call came in, Sam rode to the Da Nang airport in a jeep with the necessary paperwork. Although he generally felt safe on these runs, they always had their weapons ready and at times, the runs proved a little too exciting.

Throughout Sam’s time in Da Nang, he was on duty 12 hours a day, 7 days a week. At night when the enemy launched rockets or fired mortars at Sam’s position, he had to grab his weapon and get into the nearby bunker to ride out the attack. He said it became unnerving after a while, especially during the January 1969 Vietnamese Tet holiday, knowing that a rocket or mortar attack would disrupt his sleep up to 3 times a week.

In February/March 1969 and after spending a week of R&R (rest and relaxation) in Australia, Sam and his best friend were transferred south of Da Nang to Chu Lai. Sam’s position was across the highway from a Vietnamese village, and he recalls having to grab his weapon and board a slow-moving truck picking up all the soldiers in the vicinity and heading to the ammunition dump so they could defend the position from their 2-man bunkers in case of a ground attack. He also remembers standing guard duty one night in Chu Lai and noticing the perimeter fence might have been breached. He and an officer went to the fence line to investigate, but eventually they determined there was no hole in the fence – the camp lights just made it look that way.

Sam promoted to Staff Sergeant in Chu Lai, which allowed him to wear “3 stripes and a rocker” and serve as the non-commissioned officer-in-charge (NCOIC) of the night crew at the ammunition dump. Sam would get ammunition requests, tell his soldiers what to load, and the receiving units would drive away with the ammunition they needed to keep up the fight. Sam really felt like he was contributing to the war effort in this role, making sure the soldiers in the field got the ammunition they needed.

Another significant event during Sam’s tour in Vietnam involved a young woman he’d met a couple of times before he left Arkansas for Vietnam. She started to write him letters. They corresponded regularly and Sam fell in love with her through her letters. Sam also regularly received letters from his parents, sisters and friends, and he wrote them, as well. In fact, recently one of Sam’s cousins gave him a postcard he had sent his cousin from Vietnam. As Sam’s son later observed, “it was like opening a time machine.”

Sam and his unit returned from Vietnam in August 1969 as part of President Nixon’s post-election drawdown after serving 10 ½ months in country. Five months later, Sam married the young woman who began writing him in Vietnam, and he has been married to Jessie now for over 48 years. They have two children and two grandchildren.

Sam also returned to his job at the VA, where he continued to work until he retired in 2004. After retiring from the VA, he accepted a position as the Lonoke County Service Officer. In this position, Sam helps inform veterans about available benefits and how they can access them. He considers helping veterans learn about benefits for things like Agent Orange a real blessing for him. Sam’s also a certified service representative with the American Legion. In fact, he’s been a member of the American Legion for 50 years and belongs to Post 71 in Cabot, Arkansas.

As if all of that weren’t enough, Sam volunteers as the Chairman of the Board for A Veteran’s Best Friend in Arkansas, a non-profit organization that acquires and trains service dogs for veterans with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). He is also active in the Lonoke Baptist Church, where he teaches Sunday School and serves as a deacon.

Although he served with them 50 years ago, Sam forged a deep bond with the men of Headquarters Company, 336^th Ordnance Battalion. They still get together every year with their wives, usually in Branson, Missouri. In 2017, they met in Dallas, Texas, where they were honored at a Dallas Cowboys pre-season football game and were invited out on the field to be recognized by a thankful crowd. Sam doesn’t hesitate to say that the men of his unit dearly love each other.

Voices to Veterans salutes Staff Sergeant Samuel T. High, U.S. Army, not only for his dedicated and faithful service to our nation during time of war, but also for his continued service to veterans and his community. Sam, we tip our hats to you and to all of the members of Headquarters Company, 336^th Ordnance Battalion, for defending our freedom!

August 15 2018

Tech Sergeant Susie Goebel, U.S. Air Force (Retired) – A Proud Family Tradition of Service

Tech Sergeant Susie Goebel at her retirement ceremony. — Tech Sergeant Susie Goebel at her retirement ceremony

Like many veterans, Technical Sergeant Susan “Susie” Goebel, U.S. Air Force (Retired), hesitated to talk to me about herself. She views her 15 years of service as nothing special or heroic. In fact, she’ll tell you she was just doing her job. To Susie, the family separations, the inspections in the middle of the night, and the drills in Saudi Arabia in full chemical protective gear barely warrant mentioning. To the rest of us, they sound like quite a sacrifice. Here is Susie’s story.

Susie’s dad was an oil man – he started out as a roughneck working on rigs, taking his family wherever there was work. On one such trip from Wyoming to Oklahoma, the family had to stop in Nebraska because Susie’s mom went into labor and Susie was born. The family eventually settled in Nowata, Oklahoma, about 50 miles north of Tulsa. It wasn’t permanent, though. Susie remembers living in Casper, Wyoming, around the 3^rd and 4^th grade and falling in love with the Rocky Mountains. They returned again to Tulsa where Susie graduated from high school in 1975.

After high school, Susie completed a couple of years of college, but it wasn’t what she was looking for. What she really wanted was to join the Air Force. Her father served in the Army Air Corps in the Pacific Theater during World War II, flying over China, Burma and India and earning the Distinguished Flying Cross. It was only natural for Susie to want to follow in his footsteps.

Initially Susie’s dad didn’t want her to enlist, but he didn’t say anything about it to her directly. Instead, on her 22^nd birthday, her mother took her out for a night on the town. After a few drinks, she told Susie that she and Susie’s father didn’t want Susie to enlist. Susie said it was too late for that and was on her way to boot camp 5 days later. From that point on, Susie’s mom and dad were incredibly proud of her, with her father not missing the opportunity to wear an Air Force t-shirt or hat recognizing Susie’s service. Out of the five children in the family, Susie was the only one to serve in the military.

Susie reported to boot camp at Lackland Air Force Base on January 29, 1980. The only part of basic training that shocked her was the physical training. She soon developed severe blisters from wearing combat boots and had to wear flip-flops for a week, which really embarrassed her. She made up for it a week or so before the end of boot camp when she was permitted to put on Airman First Class stripes, while everyone else was still an Airman Basic. Susie received the promotion because she had completed two years of college before she enlisted. It resulted in her receiving higher pay and being treated better when she reported to her first command.

After boot camp, Susie reported to supply technical school at Lowry Air Force Base in Denver. Supply would be her field for the rest of her career in the Air Force. Denver also rekindled her love for the Rockies. Every morning, the very first thing she did was open the curtains and admire the mountains. Only after she had her fill would she start getting ready for work. Supply school at Lowry lasted approximately 6 weeks.

After supply school, Susie reported to her first duty station, the 601st Tactical Control Wing in Sembach, Germany. The Wing provided support for the OV-10A, a twin-engine aircraft employed primarily to provide forward air control for U.S. and allied forces. Susie worked in a warehouse receiving, storing, and issuing everything the OV-10A squadrons needed to keep their planes flying.

During Susie’s tour in Sembach, her command routinely drilled and participated in exercises. In one such exercise, Susie had to wear full chemical protective gear with her gas mask at the ready, waiting for an alarm to sound. Unfortunately, she happened to be on the outside of the warehouse when the alarm sounded. Suddenly, the warehouse’s big bay doors closed and Susie was locked outside. She put on her gas mask and took shelter between a trash dumpster and a wall, watching planes do tactical maneuvers over the base. When the siren sounded again indicating the simulated attack had ended, Susie had to pound on the doors until someone let her back in the warehouse. The exercise seemed all too real.

Susie’s oldest son, Justin, was born in March, 1983. Shortly after Susie returned from maternity leave, the Wing sent her to a 5-week inspector school in Denver. Toward the end of the school, Susie’s husband brought Justin to Denver to see Susie and Justin didn’t recognize her – it took him a little while to get used to her again. Needless to say, family separations were hard. Susie’s second son, Nick, was also born in Germany in May, 1984.

After Sembach and now a Staff Sergeant, Susie reported to her second command, the 443^rd Military Airlift Wing, in Altus, Oklahoma. She stayed there from 1984-1989. In 1989, she reported to 314^th Military Airlift Command at Little Rock Air Force Base in Jacksonville, Arkansas.

In 1994, while Susie was at Little Rock and now a Technical Sergeant, she received a call telling her that her next assignment would be Iceland or she would have to retire – she was given no other options. Reluctantly she chose to retire. However, one month later in August 1994, she deployed on very short notice to Saudi Arabia. When she got off the airplane in Dhahran, the temperature seemed like an instant 120 degrees. She went to her barracks in Khobar Towers to check in and then was put in charge of the Repairable Assets Control Center, or RACC, at King Abdulaziz Air Base. That meant she was in charge of the operation receiving parts needing repair and either delivering them to local workshops to be repaired or shipping them back to the United States for depot level work. Her team operated around the clock, working 12-hour shifts.

While Susie was in Dhahran, word circulated that Saddam Hussein might be making another move to cross into Kuwait (Iraq had been pushed out Kuwait by U.S. and allied forces during the Gulf War in 1990-91). Susie relays that although there was some fear of Iraq firing chemical weapons if a new conflict flared-up, leadership did not want service members to carry their chemical protective gear because they did not want to alarm the local population. Susie had her people stow their protective equipment in the vans they drove anyway. She didn’t want to have to write a letter home to some parent saying their child had died because they didn’t have their protective gear available.

On occasion, a bus would be available to take airmen from Dhahran to Bahrain, where drinking was permitted. The only caveat was, if anyone got sick on the ride home after drinking too much, they would be punished at an administrative hearing known as an Article 15 hearing. All of the airmen looked out for each other, and all carried plastic bags so in case anyone got sick, they could still keep the bus clean.

Toward the end of Susie’s 3-month assignment in Saudi Arabia, she was given another option for follow-on orders. Instead of Iceland, she was offered orders to South Korea, and she would have to report there directly from Saudi Arabia. Given that she was now retirement eligible, she opted to retire. She did not want to put her boys through another extended family separation.

Susie returned to Little Rock Air Force Base on November 28, 1994, and retired from the Air Force on January 31, 1995, after 15 years of distinguished service. She continued to work at Little Rock Air Force Base as a civilian, working with C-130 flight simulators and assisting with other training responsibilities.

Susie is active in American Legion Post 71 in Cabot, Arkansas, where she currently serves as the Post Public Relations Officer. She had a very positive military experience, noting that everyone she worked with looked out for each other. She believes every young man and woman should spend 2 years in the military or similar service to learn more about our country and the Constitution, and to develop a sense of personal discipline.

Voices To Veterans salutes Technical Sergeant Susie Goebel, U.S. Air Force, for her years of dedicated service to our country. Not only did she make her mother and World War II veteran father proud, but she made us proud, as well. Thanks for your service!

Tech Sergeant Susie Goebel, U.S. Air Force

April 25 2018

Staff Sergeant Jerry Ingram U.S. Marine Corps No Greater Honor

Photo of Marine Corps Veteran Jerry Ingram saluting at a remembrance ceremony. — Marine Corps veteran Jerry Ingram, a survivor of the 1945 Battle of Iwo Jima, salutes before placing a flower on the 4th Marine Division Monument at the Leavenworth National Cemetery. Photo by Prudence Siebert/Fort Leavenworth Lamp

When most of us are 16, our biggest worries are getting our drivers license or figuring out our date to the prom. When Staff Sergeant Jerry Ingram was 16, he was a combat tank commander with Company C of the 4^th Tank Battalion, 4^th Marines, preparing to fight his way to victory across the Pacific to Japan. This is Jerry’s story.

Jerry was born on May 20, 1927, in Kansas City, Kansas. Scraping by at the height of the Great Depression, Jerry left home when he was 10 and lived on the streets. He made enough money to survive working on local farms, but after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, Jerry enlisted in the Marines when he was only 15. He was a big kid at 6 feet tall and 200 pounds, just what the Marines were looking for. Jerry says he lied about his age to get into the Marines, and he’s been lying about his age ever since.

Jerry reported for duty on November 9, 1942, and was sent to Marine boot camp in San Diego California. He lived in a tent his full time there, and would continue to live in tents all the way through to the end of the war. Jerry said his drill instructor was a Pearl Harbor survivor, which made him especially tough on his men. Whatever the requirements were, he made them do more. At the time, Jerry thought they were being over-trained. Looking back, he attributes a significant part of his survival to his Marine Corps training, which taught him to never give up. The rest he knows is due to the hand of God. Jerry is certain God has allowed him to survive so he can relay his story to others, so that they, too, can learn to never give up.

One story stands out for Jerry from boot camp, where there was significant competition between platoons to outdo each other. On the night before the final inspection and graduation parade, Jerry and some buddies from his platoon took permanent shoe die and painted black mustaches on sleeping Marines in the other platoons. Then they painted mustaches on themselves so no one would know which platoon did it. Jerry said you can only imagine the reaction the next morning when the new Marines showed up for their graduation inspection with mustaches painted on their faces.

After boot camp, Jerry reported to the Marine Corps camp at Jacques Farm, also in San Diego. He thought he was going for Raider training, but he learned when he arrived the camp had just been repurposed to train Marines to fight with tanks. By the time he left Camp Jacques, still at the age of 15, he had become a tank driving instructor.

After Jacques Farm, Jerry was assigned to Company C, 4^th Tank Battalion, 4^th Marine Division at Camp Pendleton in California. As part of this unit, he participated in the island battles in the Pacific that served as the crucible for the Marine Corps and made it the legendary fighting force it is today. These landings were:

Roi and Namur Islands, February 1944
Saipan, June 15 – July 9, 1944 (13,000 U.S. casualties, including 3,000 killed)
Tinian, July 24 – August 1, 1944 (2,300 U.S. casualties, including 389 killed)
Iwo Jima, February 19 – March 26, 1945 (26,000 U.S. casualties, including 6,800 killed)

Jerry fought in these battles as a commander of a Sherman tank, which was the main battle tank for the United States during the war. He recalls that when they conducted the Roi and Namur Island landings, U.S. Navy ships offshore mistakenly fired on their tanks. To prevent that from happening again, someone up the chain of command came up with the idea to paint the tops of the tanks yellow so they could be easily identified from the air. When the tanks landed in Saipan, they learned the hard way that the new paint scheme was not such a good idea. Jerry and his tank Company had landed in the wrong place, so they got out of their tanks to check their maps to see where they were. Suddenly, Japanese shells rained down on them because the yellow tops made them easy to spot and target.

When the shells started coming in, Jerry and a Gunnery Sergeant (Gunny) jumped under one of the tanks and the tank took a direct hit. The Gunny said he was hit, and Jerry reached over and felt blood all over the Gunny’s leg. Despite being in cramped quarters and unable to see because they were under the tank, Jerry managed to get a tourniquet around the Gunny’s leg. When the shelling stopped, Jerry pulled the Gunny out from under the tank only to find that it wasn’t blood on the Gunny’s leg, but warm diesel fuel that had leaked from the tank after it had been hit.

After securing Saipan, the 4^th Marine Division returned to its base on Maui to prepare for their next assignment: Iwo Jima. This proved to be one of the costliest battles of the war and the only battle in the Pacific where more American attackers were killed than Japanese defenders. Jerry remembers going to the cemetery on the island after the island was secured and being overcome by the thousands of crosses marking the graves of his fellow Marines. He says this was the only time he cried during the war.

After surviving these horrific island-hopping battles, Jerry was transferred to the 1^st Marine Division in Tientsin, China, as part of the occupation forces securing the area after Japan surrendered. Jerry said the Chinese people were destitute, having suffered greatly at the hands of the Japanese. He saw people stripping bark from trees to eat and using sand as filler in some of their meals. Yet when the Americans shipped food for the starving people, corrupt local officials kept it from those who needed it most.

Image of Jerry Ingram saluting at Royals Game. — Jerry Ingram at Kansas City Royals baseball game

Jerry returned to the United States from China and was honorably discharged in 1946. He still suffered from the effects of the war, especially amoebic dysentery, which plagued him for years. Amoebic dysentery is caused by a one-celled organism that invades the intestines, resulting in severe abdominal pain, diarrhea, and blood loss. Further complications occur when the parasite gets into the bloodstream. Early on, Jerry’s infection was so bad that he went to the VA Hospital in Leavenworth, Kansas. At one point he overheard that he was in the St. Peter’s room, which meant he was not expected to live. But the Marines had taught him to be a survivor, and if the VA Hospital couldn’t help him get better, he would go back home to Kansas City and try something else. So he snuck out of the hospital wearing nothing but his hospital gown with the ties in back, and hitchhiked to Kansas City. As he looks back on it now, he can’t believe someone actually stopped and gave him a ride given how he was dressed.

Jerry recovered and went back to school to complete his education. Not only did he get his high school degree, but he also used the GI Bill to get his bachelor’s degree from Kansas University.

As if Jerry’s experience in the war wasn’t enough, he had two other close calls with death. First, when Jerry was 25, his car was hit head on by a drunk driver. Jerry suffered massive head trauma and was in surgery for 23 hours. He eventually had an acrylic plate put into his head and he had to re-learn his memory, but he never gave up and he recovered. Then, in 1981, he was caught in an elevator with 3 other men when an arsonist set fire to the Las Vegas Hilton. When the elevator door opened, Jerry crawled to safety, but the 3 other men, who tried to run through the smoke, died from smoke inhalation.

Jerry attributes his longevity to the Marines who instilled in him that he must never give up, no matter how bad things get, and his faith in God as a Christian. He feels duty-bound to tell people his story so they understand that there is a cost to the freedoms we all enjoy.

When I asked Jerry if he thinks serving in the military is a good option for young people today, he didn’t hesitate. He said there is no greater honor than serving God, Country and the Corps. He is a Marine through and through, who knows and appreciates that next to life itself, freedom is the most precious gift we have.

At almost 91, Jerry still works full-time at Jerry Ingram Fire & Rescue, providing fire departments with uniforms and other required first responder equipment. He also supports the American Legion and Veterans of Foreign Wars, and is active in the Marine Corps League. He remains the driving force behind a memorial and annual remembrance ceremony in March for the battle of Iwo Jima at Leavenworth National Cemetery in Kansas.

Voices To Veterans proudly salutes Staff Sergeant Jerry Ingram for his distinguished service in the United States Marine Corps and for his lifelong commitment to preserving the freedoms of every American. There is no doubt how Jerry would close out his story if he were telling it in person: Semper Fi!

U.S. Marine Corps Memorial in Washington, DC.

November 2019
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