On June 3rd, the Board of Directors renamed the Merchant Marine exhibit to the Harold E. Wellington Merchant Marine of World War II Memorial Gallery in honor of long-time museum volunteer Harold Wellington.

In the words of Alfred Lord Tennyson, Wellington “Crossed the Bar” in December of 2024.Ìę Before Wellington passed away, he accomplished one more milestone in a life filled with service to his country and his fellow veterans. Wellington became a centenarian on September 29th, 2024.

Left, Harold Wellington celebrated his 100th birthday in his room at a long-term care facility in September of ’24.Ìę Right, Wellington celebrated his 99th birthday with family and friends in a local restaurant.Ìę

During 100 years of living, Harold Wellington received the Congressional Gold Medal from the United States Congress, served in three different branches of the military during two major wars, and survived a near-fatal car crash in front of thousands of spectators during a stock car race. Wellington lived every day of his remarkable life to the fullest.

Wellington Campioned for the Cause of the VHMC

Over the past eight years, Wellington’s commitment to the success of the 51șÚÁÏÍű History Museum has not been as well-known as his military service and the accolades he received for volunteering to serve during World War II.Ìę In this article, I want to focus on Wellington’s devotion to telling the story of the Merchant Marines of WWII and his drive to preserve artifacts of the Merchant Services in our museum.

Wellington is showing off his Liberty ship model to John Taylor, owner of a local toy store.

I met Wellington when he was well into his 90s. Wellington attended the 51șÚÁÏÍű History Museum’s first exhibition display in downtown Brevard, NC. I covered the exhibition as a reporter for WLOS News 13.Ìę Wellington happened to be the first World War II veteran I spoke with during the event.Ìę Even in 2016, World War II veterans were hard to find.Ìę Interviewing this American Hero was a top priority for my story.ÌęÌę

“I feel honored that people remember,” said Wellington during that first interview.Ìę His interview lasted a total of five seconds.Ìę Neither he nor I knew that those five seconds would lead to several more television appearances and a friendship that lasted until this last December.Ìę

Months after the exhibition, Transylvania County offered the 51șÚÁÏÍű Museum an unused building next to the Historical Courthouse.Ìę Wellington attended the opening ceremonies and quickly became an everyday fixture at the Museum.ÌęÌę

Wellington sits for a conversation with an attendee of the 51șÚÁÏÍű History Museums first WWII conference.Ìę

The museum volunteers encouraged his presence. Often, visitors would get the extra treat of taking a selfie with a World War II veteran as part of the museum experience.Ìę To boost the museum’s social media reach, I posted pictures of Wellington with visitors.Ìę I often joked with Harold that he was “the coolest artifact the museum had to display.”Ìę

Soon, a new chair arrived in the museum’s reception area.Ìę It is a movie director’s folding chair with “Harold” embroidered across the back.Ìę A fitting addition to the furniture of the museum and a testament to the amount of time Wellington dedicated to the cause.

Wellington became much more than a visitor favorite as the Museum grew.Ìę He advised the Curator at the time that the Museum lacked any mention of a key group of sailors, very important to the war effort in the 1940s.

During WWII, Wellington served as a Merchant Marine on a Liberty Ship in the Battle of the Atlantic.Ìę I wasn’t the only volunteer Wellington educated on the almost forgotten service of the Merchant Marine.Ìę He donated two of his uniforms and tiny black and white square pictures of himself on a Liberty Ship, along with cards of the medals he earned.Ìę We found space for his treasured belongings, and the Museum’s Merchant Marine display came to life.Ìę

The addition of his uniforms to the museum’s WWII exhibit made Wellington happy, but not satisfied.Ìę He began searching the internet for more artifacts.Ìę He used his own money to purchase items like a liberty ship clock, a lifeboat sextant, and a life vest with “U.S Merchant Services” printed across the chest.Ìę

During this trip to the National WWII Museum, Wellington received the Congressional Gold Medal for serving in the Merchant Marines during WWII.

A trip to the National World War II Museum in New Orleans gave Wellington another idea.Ìę I accompanied Wellington on this visit and distinctly remember him saying to me, “Wouldn’t that look good in our museum?”Ìę He lifted his cane and pointed at a very large-scale model of a Liberty ship on display.Ìę I could tell by the look in his eyes that another internet search was in his future.Ìę

Not only did Wellington find a scale model that fit in the museum’s limited space. He also hand-crafted the glass display case that houses the model today.Ìę Determined to make the story of the Merchant Marine more prominent in the museum, Wellington donated the rare artifacts and the ship model with no expectation of repayment.

Wellington recieves the Congressinal Gold Medal from the United States Congress

Wellington’s generosity didn’t stop with the gift of his online acquisitions to the museum. In early 2020, President Donald J. Trump signed the Merchant Mariner Act into law.Ìę As part of the Act, Congress minted a Congressional Gold Medal in honor of the Merchant Marines of WWII.Ìę Every living Merchant Marine of WWII received a bronze copy of the gold medal from the government.

Wellington invited me to travel with him to the American Merchant Marine 51șÚÁÏÍű Association’s national convention, where the association unveiled the design of the medal to members and their families.Ìę In an interview for WLOS TV, I asked Wellington how he felt about receiving such a high honor from Congress.Ìę

“It’s great to be recognized ’cause we’ve been disregarded for so long,” said Wellington.Ìę “Like I say, we were bad-mouthed and called names
draft dodgers and all this other stuff for so many years.Ìę And now, we are finally getting the recognition for who we were and what we did.Ìę We are proud of it, and I think the people should be proud of it.”

Left, Wellington receives a quilt from the “Quilts of Honor” quilters in Hendersonville. Above, Wellington at his home in Brevard.

Wellington’s health prevented him from attending the official Congressional Gold Medal ceremony in Washington, DC, a year later.Ìę He received his bronze medal in the mail.Ìę The next day, Wellington brought the medal to the museum, and we placed it inside the glass case he constructed for the model of his Liberty Ship.

The Congressional Gold Medal is the oldest and highest civilian award in the United States.Ìę Yet, Wellington immediately shared the prize with the museum he loved.Ìę A selfless act on the scale of his original selfless act when he volunteered to serve America during her time of need eighty years ago.ÌęÌęÌę

Left, Wellington and George Sarros at the National WWII Museum in NOLA.Ìę Above, Wellington dressed out for the 4th of July with friends.

Wellington has now embarked on a new journey. To say goodbye, I will use an old nautical phrase as a blessing for a successful voyage.Ìę I believe I am speaking for everyone at the museum when I wish Harold “fair winds and following seas”. You, Sir, will be sorely missed.

Board Member Kenneth Corn is a regular contributor to the “Living Histories” blog.Ìę Corn has served as the Vice President of the Board of Directors and is one of the founding members of the 51șÚÁÏÍű History Museum.Ìę Before helping create this non-profit honoring 51șÚÁÏÍű, Corn worked as a journalist for several television stations in the state of North Carolina and deployed to Iraq with the 82nd Airborne as an embeded journalist in 2003 – 2004.

Cuban Missile Crisis

It is certainly no exaggeration to say thatÌęthe in October, 1962 wasÌęthe most dangerous incident occurring during the decades-long ColdÌęWar between the Free World and the Union ofÌęSoviet Socialist Republics (USSR). In this articleÌęI tell my personal story of that period as a Crew Commander in the Strategic Air Command KC-135 jetÌęaerial refueling tanker force at Westover Air ForceÌęBase, Massachusetts.

During the Cold War, the Strategic Air Command (SAC) B-52 bomber and KC-135 tanker forces were constantly “on alert” at multiple bases, 24 hours of every day. Known as the “SAC Alert Force”, every oneÌęof those airplanesÌęand crews had a specific, pre-plannedÌęmission involving a retaliatory attack against specific targets in the USSR or a CommunistÌęsatellite country.

On Alert

Being “on alert” meant that the bombersÌęand tankers were continuously guarded and parked in special areas near the runways. The flight crews resided in special buildings near the airplanes on the flightÌęline, maintaining the capability to quickly respond by running to the airplanes,Ìęstarting the engines, and taking off.ÌęÌęThe reasonÌęfor haste was the threat of Russian missiles being fired fromÌęSoviet submarines off the US coast with the capability of attacking and crippling the USÌęstrategic bomber and tanker forces in just a few minutes.

Practice alerts were constantly conducted, to ensure that the crews could always get to their airplanes and take off in minimal time. Ìę One can imagine the tremendous time, effort and expense – for many yearsÌę–of maintaining the huge SAC bomber and Tanker Alert Force as described above.ÌęThe reason was very simple: a firm belief by USÌęleaders in the willingnessÌęand ability of the USSR to attack our strategic forces. To deterÌęsuch an attack on our strategic forces by the USSR, maintenance of a credible and invulnerable capability toÌęrespond to any attack from the USSR was essential.

An Act of War

When the missile launch facilitiesÌęunder construction in Cuba were discovered by U-2Ìęaerial photography, the US viewed it as anÌęaggressive activity, virtually an act of war. Intermediate rangeÌęmissilesÌęlaunched from only 90 miles away from the US would be able toÌęhit American cities and bases in a matter of minutes—an intolerable danger to the US homeland.

B-52 Bombers Aloft and Armed

It was then that the entire SAC force – many hundreds of bombersÌęand tankers — was put on increased alert. A continuous “parade” of flying B-52Ìębombers armed with nuclear weapons was kept aloftÌę24 hours each day. Their various routes took them across the AtlanticÌęOcean and into the approaches of the USSR where they could be seen onÌęRussian radar.

Flights Lasting Nearly 24 Hours

Every B-52 flew missions that lasted nearly a full 24 hours, involving multiple refuelings from tankers based both in the US and in Europe. When the bomber and tanker crews were not airborne on missions, they were living aboard the airplanes on the ground, monitoring the radios, ready to launch at a moment’s notice.

During the most intense days of the crisis, my tanker unit sent out twenty-two (22) sortiesÌęeach day having a duration of three hours and fifteen minutes,Ìęeach sortie offloading 113,000 pounds to a single B-52 in about twentyÌęminutes ofÌęcontact. The effort to prepare that many airplanesÌęevery day and transfer that much fuel, involved Herculean efforts andÌęgreat expense.

Like a Scary Movie

During that period, the atmosphere on the base was like an implausible,Ìęfrightening movie. All crewmembers wore firearms believing that they were very close toÌęactual hostilities. We were worried about our families, who wereÌęalone in the housing area, out of contact. Many dependents movedÌęto the North, out of the state, certain thatÌęif World War III started, our base would be one of the first hit.

One of the strange occurrences during the crisis was theÌębroadcasting of Communist propaganda messages on the International TimeÌęClock Station, WWV. That station broadcasts a simple time signalÌęonÌęHigh Frequency (HF), continuously giving precise time reports for use inÌęcelestial navigation. All crewmembers are accustomed to getting “time hacks”Ìęon WWV and it was a genuine shock to hear a loud voiceÌębreak into theÌętransmission with threats and accusations about how “President Kennedy isÌęgoing to cause World War III”
.in English, with a strange accent.

A U-2 Shot Down Over Cuba

Saturday, 27 October 62, a U-2 flown by Major Rudy Anderson was shot down over Cuba. On the sameÌęday, also not known to the public at the time, anotherÌęU-2 flying nearÌęAlaska had severe navigational problems that caused an overflight ofÌęthe eastern Soviet Union. ÌęAlthough thought by the Soviets to be deliberate at the time, it was laterÌęlearned that the inadvertent overflight was causedÌęby a mistake theÌępilot had made in performing “grid navigation”, a method necessary in theÌęArctic regions.

President Kennedy and Soviet PremierÌęKrushchev

During the crisis, behind the scenes and unknown to the public, diplomaticÌęcontacts were underway and President Kennedy and Soviet PremierÌęKrushchev exchanged two formal letters. The crisis was finallyÌęresolved byÌęKrushchev’s making a commitment to remove the missiles from Cuba.

After the crisis,Ìęthe SAC Alert Force returned to its pre-crisisÌęposture, continuing inÌęthat posture for several more years. Today, the round-the-clock, 24/7 SACÌęAlert Force of bombers and tankers no longer exists.

Col. Woodhull’s story and many more veterans’ stories can viewed on our “Living Histories” page.

Telling their stories is one way we honor veterans at the museum. Currently closed for the creation of new exhibits and annual winter inventory, the museum will re-open for 2024 on March 1. Please come back if you have visited before to see the exciting new exhibits. Open hours will be 11:00 AM to 3:00 PM Tuesday-Friday, beginning March 1.

Article written by Richard G. “Duke” Woodhull, Jr., Colonel, USAF-Ret.

Top photo: Far left, Captain Woodhull with his KC-135 tanker crew in 1962 (KC-135 in the background)Ìę

Left photo: Woodhull at a U-2 Pilots’ Reunion, October 2022

James Milton Fletcher, WWII Veteran

Joining Up at Age 17

“I took my oath at Fort McPherson, Georgia on June 6, 1944—D-Day—five days after I graduated from high school. My mother and dad had to consent because I was only 17. I reported to the University of Alabama for engineering school, then we were sent to Auburn’s Alabama Polytechnic Institute.

Training for Combat in Europe

“The Battle of the Bulge happened around Thanksgiving in Belgium. The Army decided they needed infantry soldiers more than they needed engineers. So at the end of the quarter, we were called to active duty—basic training at Fort Robinson, Arkansas. Then to Fort Meade, Mayland as replacements in the Battle of the Bulge.
“But by the time I finished, that situation had changed. They sent us to Oregon, then to Hawaii for 10 days of jungle training. We joined a convoy because the Japanese submarine fleet was still very active all the way from Hawaii to Okinawa. Then in the Marshall Islands we practiced landing craft—climbing down the side of the ship with all our equipment and beach landings on Eniwetok Atoll. Then to the Caroline Islands right on the equator to practice more in tropical conditions.”

The Battle of Okinawa

“We were ordered to Okinawa. The Battle of Okinawa started on Easter Sunday (April 1), 1945. They fought viciously there for two months. The politicians declared the island secure, but they were still fighting when I got there in June. When I joined my Infantry outfit, Charlie Company, 184th Regiment, 7th Infantry Division, they had 110% casualty. I asked, ‘How did you manage 110% casualties?’ The answer was, ‘The replacements get shot pretty fast.’ The life expectancy, I heard, was 90 minutes when we got there.

“The tallest building I saw in Okinawa was about three feet tall except for one church steeple in Naha (Okinawa’s capital). They had just bombed that island to death. It was one of the bloodiest battles in the history of American warfare.

“Three Marine divisions were on the north end of the island. Four Army divisions were on the south end. We thought we were going to leave Okinawa to invade Japan on Labor Day, but they were planning it for October 1. On August 6, we heard on the radio that they had dropped this unusual bomb on Japan, and they were pursuing peace. We thought it was just a ruse to get us to walk into one of their surprise attacks. A week later, they dropped the second bomb and then we realized it was for real.”

The Japanese Surrender

“Everybody was frightened because the Japanese had said that every man, woman, and child would die for their Emperor rather than surrender. So it was no easy task to fight the Japanese, and it was much more brutal, I think, than the European campaigns.

“We were very happy at the dropping of the second bomb, and there was so much celebrating, we lost 600 men on the island—killed due to stray munitions. We shot ammunition and dumps and everything else to celebrate—shooting up in the air and blew bombs in caves where the Japanese Army would hide. I never got a scratch—just injured my knee by stepping into a post hole.”

The Largest and Deadliest Amphibious Assault in the Pacific War

According to the National WWII Museum, the official American casualty count between April 1 and June 22 is 12,520 killed out of 49,151 total casualties.
Milt Fletcher: “The fighting continued after the official end of the war. Okinawa is known as the last major campaign of World War II. In my opinion, it was the bloodiest battle in American history.
“August 21 was the happiest day of my life. We had orders to go to Seoul, Korea to receive the Japanese Army surrender for Korea. It was at the same time they surrendered to MacArthur in Tokyo Bay.”

Japanese surrender in Korea (photo U.S. Navy)

“People were stealing provisions that the Japanese Army had there, so we had to guard them. We also guarded an opium factory. We just had to secure the city. The Japanese had been the managers. The Koreans had been almost slaves under the Japanese. We were processing them to go back to Japan. So we Americans became the managers until we could train the Koreans to be managers. I was made Staff Sergeant at age 18 and was discharged from active duty in December 1946, before I turned 20 years old.”

Back Home and Back to School

“I re-started college at Georgia Southwestern and later earned my M.A. at the University of Georgia in entomology and teaching. I became a teaching principal before I was 25 years old.”

Service During the Korean War

“I spent the Korean War running the reception center for draftees in Columbia, South Carolina, making assignments and orders for infantry, quartermaster, communications, medical, etc. We processed the cream of the crop—all the graduates of high schools and colleges between 1944 and 1950. The R.O.T.C. boys were the green lieutenants that were the replacements in Korea, and we lost 54,260 GIs. I was in the Reserves for 12 years. I received the Infantry Rifleman’s badge.”

Career and Family

“I worked in sales and teacher training for Scott Foresman & Company. It was the largest textbook publisher in America—starting with Dick and Jane and going all the way through college. I retired after 30 years. I loved my job.”
“In 1951 I married Libby, a girl I had known since childhood. We have two children, Jim and Betsy. Sadly, Libby passed away in 2020.”

“I love my country.”

“I’m here for my country. I love my country. It’s been good to me, gave me an undergraduate degree, helped me get a graduate degree, helped me buy a home. I have new hearing aids from the VA and I’m a happy person.
“I still have students who, after 80 years, still write to me. And I have salesmen I hired 50 years ago who come to see me and bring me vegetables out of their gardens. I’ve lived in Brevard, N.C. for 10 years. I’m a firm believer in education. I’m taking an art class now and I’ve studied Chaucer, Middle English, and the Great Books. I attend yoga
and always siesta at 2:00 pm. I’ve had a good life, a full life.”

It Came Without Warning

By Tech. Sgt. Brian Christiansen, USAF (Ret.)

April 27, 2011 – Kabul, Afghanistan

It’s our job to document everything of importance here at the 438th Air Expeditionary Wing. Ask people what “importance” is, and you’ll get 300 different answers. Importance is defined in this office is as, what will turn heads? Grip and Grins
 not so much. Some random general making a visit to get his picture taken, to prove he was here? – Not if I can help it. A box of nomax hoods that arrives from North Carolina, donated by funds raised by volunteer firefighters? – I’m on it.

Getting back to it, our office of 4 – it’s our responsibility to train an office of 8 people. We really didn’t have a plan we I arrived here. After finding indirectly that it was an additional duty, we just knew we needed to start going over to their headquarters building every couple days and talk about photography, video or something to do with public affairs.

No Set Schedule

“For now, Christiansen, I want you to go over there once a week and just talk about photography”, my supervisor delegated to me, without giving me any set details. Um
. ok. I know the Afghans in the PA office. Other than speaking Dari, and not really knowing what they are saying, they’re pretty cool. They always offer me chai tea when I go over. Normally, I always have Yama, our Afghan civilian who’s our translator. Good kid. 20-something.

It was my turn to teach. It was my day. I woke up in the most foul mood. I didn’t want to help them
 I walked to work late. I knew I was going to tell my boss I wasn’t ready to teach them. I’d lied. I was in the foulest of moods and couldn’t figure out why
 and didn’t care.

I left my dorm around 8:30am. We have to be at work by 7:30am. Ooops. The first time I slept late. Generally, if you are running late to your own office, you might think about bringing doughnuts. There’s not a Krispy Kreme for 8000 miles.

The Foulest of Moods

My boss had made his point a few weeks earlier. If you need a morning that you want to sleep inn, go ahead and take a couple hours.” Since we work 7 days/12 hours a day, we need a breather. This morning happened to be mine. I slept past my alarm. I was in a foul mood. I mean
 no coffee, out of coffee, and there isn’t any coffee for miles — type of mood.

My boss had made his point a few weeks earlier. If you need a morning that you want to sleep inn, go ahead and take a couple hours.” Since we work 7 days/12 hours a day, we need a breather. This morning happened to be mine. I slept past my alarm. I was in a foul mood. I mean
 no coffee, out of coffee, and there isn’t any coffee for miles — type of mood.

The Long Walk

We have to walk a mile to work. Then we have a mile to walk back to the dorms. Then we walk to lunch, about 3 blocks, and then 3 blocks back. And then another mile back to work. And then a mile back to the dorms at the end of the day. Now that you have all that in your head, there’s a turn style about 1/4 of the way to work. It’s like a turn style made for Oopma Loompas. Seriously – if you have any gear on like a backpack, you have to take it off and have it in front of you, as if it’s another person, in order for you to get thru.

So, it’s 8:30am. I’m walking to work by myself with my leather holster and wearing my 9mm pistol. We wear them every day – it just goes with the territory. I’m walking under this cloud in my mind that was bringing me down. I was pissed at the cloud. I still don’t know why I was mad. I remember bumping my head against one of the railings going thru the turn style, and that pissed me off even more.

Afghan Army Soldier

My long walk became even longer when an Afghan Army soldier walked out onto the street, he was about 20 yards in front of me. He was going in the same direction I was. He kept turning around, looking at me. My eyes were hidden by $10 Target plastic sunglasses. Again, and again, and again, he kept turning around while we were walking that 3/4 of a mile scanning me to see what I was doing, to see my reaction.

While he had turned back in the direction he was walking, I unsnapped my holster, more from anger, and less from cautious observation. He finally turned to his right. I kept thinking about it. What would I do? Could that have been something real, or was that guy just paranoid? My mood returned to me as I got closer to my building, and I could swear it was Monday, I wanted nothing to do with work.

Not Ready to Teach

“Sorry”, I softly and carefully said to my boss; and in the same breath I said, “I don’t think I’m ready to teach this class”. I didn’t want him to know that I was in a foul mood. In the same breath I remember saying to him. “I just really want to give them the best presentation possible.” I was lying thru my teeth. “No problem. We can work on it tomorrow or the next day. Right now I have to go over and see their public affairs officer.” And there went my boss. I was standing there with my backpack still on, and my head still ringing from hitting the turn style and he ran out the door. I thought it was absolutely perfect – I didn’t have to deal with him for the next hour. I could just unwind.

That’s what I did. 2 cups of coffee later, I sat at my desk checking to see what news was happening back home online. We have this young 22 year old Navy kid. He’s an OK photographer. Not great, but decent, that works with us. He sat in his corner of the room, and I sat in mine. We sat there for a little over an hour.

Tech. Sgt. Brian Christiansen standing in front of the last three Afghanistan fighter jets left at the Kabul airport.Ìę

Yelling.

Screaming.

Confusion.


 Action.

Then we heard it. I’ve heard it before, but I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Shots fired in the distance. Yelling. Lots of yelling just outside our door. Boots on gravel running. Our office sits on the second floor overlooking the gravel parking lot
 except that we don’t have an overlook. “WHAT WAS THAT!!? I’m gonna go find out!!” I was alone. What I had wished for in the beginning. I suddenly changed my mind. I wanted everyone near me. My photographer came back up the stairs. “SHOTS FIRED! WE’RE UNDER ATTACK! IM GONNA GO HELP WITH SECURITY!!!” “Take your camera!”, I jabbed as he was running out the door. He stopped. He turned around. I’ll never forget what he did next.

Under Attack!Ìę

Someone else came into my office and told me to put my helmet and body armor on. “Holy Shit.” Is all I could even say or think. My boss was out of the office, my photographer was somewhere playing security, and here I am, trying to wrestle my vest on, and I’m thinking
 “This isn’t supposed to happen.” Five minutes later I was downstairs where the WOC (Wing Operations Center) was. A room with the sign “Secret”, was above the door, and the door was wide open. 51șÚÁÏÍű 5 officers were huddled inside the room, talking on radios, cell phones, and one on a dry erase board.

I had my camera. Someone told me to go to “Black”. Black is where you arm your weapon, there’s a chamber in the round, and it’s not on safety. In other words, expect the worse. I stood there listening to the intel that was coming over the phones, and the airman writing down information, and verbally repeating what he was hearing. He said something that will forever change my view of a military exercise to a military operation.

“Confirmed 5 American casualties
.. understood
 fatalities”

The worst feeling in the world took over the room, and two men exited without making a word and immediately got down on their knees, and prayed.

Less than a minute later, they stood, shook off everything they could, and returned to their office to do their job – monitor the radios and receive any information to help us. To us, we were at war
 and alone.

We were in lockdown mode. No one left. No one came inside. Everyone who had body armor wore it. All personnel had their weapons ready to fire — we were all defenders that day, and there was no way in hell anyone who didn’t belong was going to get inside.

The Fog of War

“There’s got to be a mistake. There’s no way that something like this could happen.” I heard several people quietly asked others. “I don’t know.” The information wasn’t coming in fast enough. It was hardly coming in at all. Only a radio inside the WOC (Wing Operations Center) kept coming to life with that hissing tone right before someone would begin their transmission.

Several of us took key positions around the building, creating a security perimeter. We didn’t know what we were up against. Information wasn’t coming in. Imaginations were louder than voices.

One man?

Two men?

Suicide bomber?

A truck full of Taliban?

For the next 6 hours we were pinned inside of our building. “How long are we going to stay here?” was the common question. As the day went on, more and more personnel who worked in different buildings were allowed to enter. We were the only safe refuge on our side of the base. They brought their Afghanistan translators. “No cell phones, no calls, no texts!” The order was given to the translators, just in case


There’s a phrase that is said by everyone, everywhere. “It’s great to see you.” That phrase will always mean something to me from now on. When at first we didn’t know who the 9 were every time another person that you knew came thru the front door, you heard yourself say, “Thank God.” You instinctively ran over to them and hugged them, and spoke to their heart, “It’s great to see you.”

The Names

What?

I’m trying to make sense of something that I just can’t fathom. That’s where I was supposed to teach a photography class that morning
. in that building. My mind did one of those weird flashbacks
 I was in a foul mood and I didn’t want to go
 I later found out that it was in the room next door. My mind was busy wrapping itself around that I almost missed the announcement. “We’re moving out now!!”

We were told to collect anything we needed to take with us. Needed
 not wanted. We were leaving our compound, and going back to the NATO side of the base. We hadn’t left the building all day, except for a small few of us, who tried to find any cover of protection, and provide security, even if it was a 5 inch wide support pole for an awning, it was cover for the time being. Others had left much earlier in the day, but were given the worst possible duty known to anyone – recovering the fallen, and their belongings. God bless those people and the medics on scene. God bless those families.

Evacuate

Our compound sits right next to an entrance of the runway. Once our driver cleared the gate, he floored it. I’ve never ridden in the back of a truck that was going so fast on an open flight line. I felt like we were going to fall out. They drove past the blades of several helicopters with inches to spare from the tops of trucks. I looked to my left to the back of the truck. Beyond exhaustion was everyone’s faces.

Debriefings

We arrived at the NATO side of the base. The drive couldn’t have taken more than 30 seconds. After the trucks parked, we all got out, and walked in single file lines. Military walked on as every translator was searched again.

They had us go into a huge tent to await debriefings. We were agitated, exhausted, irritable, and patience was the last thing on our minds. So was the food. That was our next stop. We took turns clearing our weapons before we all went into the dining hall where we would all synchronously play with our food for the next hour as the realization set in
 9 of us were gone.

Military members pay their final respects during a memorial service for eight Airmen and one retired Army civilian contractor killed on April 27, 2011 when a gunman opened fire during a meeting. The event is the deadliest single attack on Air Force members since the 1996 attack by terrorists on Khobar Towers in Dhahran, Saudi Arabia. (U.S. Air Force Photo/Tech. Sgt. Brian Christiansen)

We Will Never Forget Them

Helmets, rifles, dog tags, boots. Nine of them. The striking and eerie memorial you see at most every American hero who is laid to rest. But never had anyone ever seen Nine. 5 had the helmet of a pilot, complete with the dark visor pulled down and oxygen mask and hose. The other 4 were mounted with the basic soldiers’ helmet. 4 of them. Nothing basic about it.

It was Sunday afternoon. It felt like 3 weeks had gone by – not 3 days. People began lining up close to an hour and a half before the service started, to say goodbye to these makeshift statues. As the line slowly moved, every person reached out and held the dog tags of each of the fallen. People were leaving coins, patches, cigars, and even a set of glow in the dark neon glasses on the base of each figure.

The program finally started. It was silent. You could hear the sniffles of so many people trying to keep it together for the next hour. They performed a roll call. It hurt even more when they got to silence. Those stating they were there were deafened by the silence.

“Major Brodeur”. Silence.

Each name was read 3 times each. People were balling by the end of the end of the service.

It was finally beginning to hit me. The service was over, and I stood there with my camera at my side, towards the front, and knew that I needed to observe with my eyes and heart instead of my lens. People were saying their final goodbyes while they slowly shifted from one statue to the next. It was getting stronger. The knot that starts in your throat and begins to take over your heart. I almost had control over it, except someone touched my shoulder, “We’re going to get thru this”. I was useless at that point.

We returned in force a few days later. No one ever let their guard down. We continued where we left off. Advising the Afghan Air Force. Everyone watched the backs of everyone else. We would not let something like this ever happen again.

Kabul, Afghanistan. Airmen of the 438th Air Expeditionary Wing join in prayer before the dignified transfer of remains begins at the Kabul International Airport. (U.S. Air Force Photo/Tech. Sgt. Brian Christiansen)

The sight was overwhelming. It took your breath away to see that many flags in a row. Many tried to push their emotions aside, and carry the fallen. I was asked to take pictures for the families. In all my years as a photographer, and all the military funerals I’ve covered, including one at Arlington, this was overwhelming. It seemed like thousands of military personnel, from every branch, from every country stood there at attention, saluting our fallen friends as they were being carried to a C-130 cargo plane.

In Honor and Memory of

Editors Note: Brian is a photojournalist for the North Carolina Air National Guard during “Guard” weekends, and during the week, he works for the N.C. Army Guard – doing the same thing. “It’s my job to capture life — unscripted. Everyone has a story, it’s my job to help tell it in pictures.”

Picture above: A buddy wearing goofy glasses with Sgt. Hallimore

Blackhawk Unit- 7th Armored Squadron (Air)
First Cavalry – Attached to the 1st Aviation Brigade
VINH LONG, VIETNAM

As a teenager I often had a reoccurring dream which I hoped would never end; in the dream, I was able to fly. I can still feel the wonder of soaring like a bird; these were daylight flights, a couple hundred feet above the outdoor mountain landscape. In my dreams, I simply concentrate on my body lifting off. I would begin to levitate through the power of concentration and easily ascend up and away.

I would float in a vertical, standup position, and soon would be sailing along; with the ability to control my direction and speed of travel through a strong and continuous mental focus. These solo flights were accompanied by deep blue skies and always happening over beautiful tree topped forest and lush grassy meadows.

I soaked up the amazing views, looking down at the treetops in a sense of freedom that I imagine only eagles feel. The irony of having these dreams, with such clear perspective of the treetops and landscape below seems surreal since I had not yet flown in any type of aircraft.

In the Army

My lack of actual air travel quickly changed when I joined the Army.Ìę There were commercial airline and military aircraft trips to various Army training stations with particularly memorable trips to and from Vietnam; the airliner which held row after row of soldier appeared to be larger than any imaginable winged object should be. How could such a big bus even get off the ground?

But by far, the most captivating flight was that in helicopters. During my Vietnam tour, it is the many hours flying in helicopters that recreated that childhood perspective of beautiful treetop flying (which I no longer experienced in my dreams).

Wop-wop-wop-wop

It is the loud, yet distinctive ‘wop-wop- wop- wop’ chopping of the air as the Huey’s large main rotor lifts and pulls its flight cargo forward.

Even today, the unique sound will pull my eyes to the heavens in search of that familiar big bird. There are indelible memories of those UH-1 birds with a model name ‘Iriquois’ These were the predecessor of the ‘Blackhawk’ model helicopter and were the backbone of the Vietnam war and troop movement.

Hallimore with buddies

Slicks, Big Birds, and Hueys

When flying in these “slicks” a favorite position would be two or three of us sitting on the outside edge of the compartment with our legs and jungle booted feet dangling out over the skids (there were no seats, 8 or so soldiers would be sitting on the Huey’s floor). The large sliding doors would be pinned open on either side so that you could easily see right through the mid portion of the bird.

A door gunner with an M-60 machine gun sat on a seat in a notched area on either side of the helicopter attached to and slightly to the back of the cargo/troop carrying area. Centrifugal force would hold us in as the helicopters made sharp banking turns during flight. During those gravity defying swoons, a soldier would be looking straight down (maybe 1500 feet to the ground) without slipping out.

Flying treetop, they seemed to be half crazy

The young warrant officers who flew helicopters in Vietnam probably became some of the best pilots ever, but they seemed to be half crazy as they pushed those birds to their maximum performance. They would come in fast and stand the bird on its tail to stop quickly. They could hover partially in or over water while troops got in or jumped out. They would fly treetop at full speed hitting the tips of the trees with the choppers skids. A few feet higher would have seemed prudent.

Flying treetop minimized exposure time to possible ground fire. As a full platoon vs. smaller squad movement, we occasionally flew in the twin rotor Chinook Helicopters (we called them ‘shit-hooks’). They were much larger than the Huey UH-1 and could carry a significant pay load. They were also quite fast. At times, we would be flying at full speed in a Chinook Helicopter just 6 or 7 feet off the water of the Mekong River; it seemed ill advised with little room left for pilot err. I would be thinking that flying a little (or a lot) higher would make good sense. But since I was ground pounder (combat foot soldier), I didn’t waste time expressing my opinion.

The helicopters were so important.

I would watch the small ‘Loachs’ () fly at treetop level with a pilot and a single adjacent seat door gunner as the decoy. They scouted the jungles trying to draw fire as a method of locating the enemy; this was a job for someone who had a death wish in my opinion.

More dangerous than the actual combat field?

The Cobra helicopters possessed an awesome array of armament and firepower that was very welcomed when we needed their assistance during a firefight. There were also very large skeleton like helicopters called ‘Flying Cranes’ hollowed out underneath with a sling and the ability to hook and pick up extremely heavy loads of equipment. I had a lot of appreciation for the utilization of wartime helicopters, but I often wondered if the wild ‘amusement park’ rides performing troop deployment in those magical machines we called ‘slicks’, ‘big birds’ and ‘Hueys’ weren’t more dangerous than the actual combat field mission itself.

It was generally said that a soldier was most likely to get killed in his first 30 days or his last 30 days in Country.

The early loss due to mistakes caused by a lack of experience and the late loss due to anticipation of leaving and the development of careless habits. In my unit, when there were 30 or less days left in a combat soldier’s tour, he would typically not be required to participate in field operations. When I had 17 days left in Country, I volunteered to participate in a joint American ARVN (Army of the Republic of Vietnam) mission. These joint missions had become common place during the ‘Vietnamation of the War’. After 11 months of active operations, the idleness of staying within the perimeter of our Army base/compound became monotonous, I needed something to do. This last voluntary trip to the field became the most memorable air mobile mission of my life.

Our ground unit was stationed in Vinh Long with combat operations throughout the delta.

Most of the delta is covered in water. It must have been the wet season because the water in the rice paddies came close to being waist deep. There were only a few of us Americans working as advisors to the ARVNs on this particular mission. In our trusty UH-1 helicopters, we flew in and jumped into about 3 feet of murky water covering the rice. We were at the assigned LZ (landing zone). I don’t remember much concerning the mission. The day spent with the ARVNs was uneventful. Generally not much did happen when we jointly deployed with the ARVNs. It was a long term war for them and they had a knack of regularly avoiding enemy contact. Many of the ARVNs had spent their full adulthood as soldiers. Their Country had been in a no-win war for over a decade. Surviving became a greater motivation than mixing it up with the Viet Cong. The American mindset was different. We wanted to fight, we wanted to win and we wanted to return to our good life ‘Back in the World’.

At the end of the day, we called in the birds (Hueys) for extraction of the troops.

We would have stood in the water probably near the tree-lined edge of the paddies waiting for the helicopters to arrive. When we heard them coming, we would ‘pop smoke’ in the opening so they knew where we were. The Helicopters would fly in and hover with their skids just touching or slightly in the water. That afternoon, the water in the LZ was somewhat deeper than usual. The helicopter may have hovered or sat a little lower in the water for us to get in. Each helicopter would pick up about 8 to 10 soldiers. Since we were a joint force, the Vietnamese were lighter weight and more could be carried. As we climbed up on the skid and into our chopper, I took my normal position sitting on the edge of the deck with my feet hanging out over the helicopter’s skid. It was time to head back to our Army base.

Flying a helicopter is a skill that I don’t think is easily mastered.

But the American pilots who flew in Vietnam had a tremendous amount of practice; they were daring but so familiar with the maximum capabilities of their craft. As earlier stated, they pushed their birds to the limit. When taking off, there is an increased whine of the laboring turbine engine and a heavier ‘wop-wop-wop’ sound of the main rotor as it fights the air for dominance. Helicopters take off in a typical pattern of increasing the power and/or pitch of the rotor to lift the fully loaded bird up out of the water (or off the ground). The chopper then starts tilting forward, picking up momentum and speed. As the helicopter’s air speed increases, the chopper begins to climb.

As we took off, I was looking forward though the plastic canopy at the front of the Huey. There is a lower plastic canopy at the pilot and copilots foot pedal area that allows you to see down and out. I observed that the helicopter had started forward, picking up speed, but instead of going up, we were flying along partially touching the water.

“Another cool stunt by these crazy pilots”

At first the water was spraying out with just the skids contacting the water; I am thinking, ‘yes, here we are with another cool stunt of spraying water high in the air by these crazy pilots’. But, as I watched, instead of going up we were actually going down. Almost instantly, the slick became like an ocean liner plowing through a watery marsh swamp. I could feel the helicopter shutter and stumbling all very quickly as its nose dove even deeper






I was underwater, still holding my M-16

Within a split second, my next memory is that of being on my hands and knees under water with my M-16 rifle still held in both hands out in front of me on the ground. I could feel something relatively large and hard on my left and something similar on my right. My mind went into a hyper activity mode that I have never otherwise experienced. I thought I was trapped under the helicopter and knew I wouldn’t be able to hold my breath for long.

I thought I was going to die

In a very quick moment, I had a million thoughts go through my head. The turbo speed of my brain function was incredible. ‘Oh My God, why this?’ I thought of my family, my friends, my home and I thought how stupid it was to be out in the field with only 17 days left. I thought I was going to die and this was the only time that I ever felt that way.

I had to find a way out.

I had to find a way out. I started to move up off of my hands and knees. To my surprise, I was able to stand up. I was fine, I could breath. All of the troops on the helicopter were thrown out and the only two remaining in the helicopter were the pilot and the co-pilot. The helicopter had flipped over and came to rest upside down. The pilot and copilot were strapped into their flight seats upside down securely held in place by their seat belts. The flight helmets on their heads were just inches above that dirty water of the rice patty. The helicopter was destroyed but fortunately all of the personnel were OK.

The helicopter was destroyed but everyon was OK

Apparently as the helicopter started its angled path down in the water, the top rotor caught the ground and violently twisted and flipped the Huey UH-1 helicopter over. The force threw all of us out and away from the helicopter into the murky water of the rice paddy. One object at my side under water was the large top rotor and the other was one of the bulky doors that had been pinned back and open. It broke loose and flew off of its mount. I was thankful. We were lucky that day.

Well, I was happy to be alive and happy to return to base, but I was miffed. In my opinion, there were too many times that we had faced unnecessary risk while flying with the young Huey pilots. There was an investigation into the cause of crash and loss of the UH-1 Helicopter. It was a $250K piece of equipment in 1970. The interviewing officer for the investigation said that the pilots thought there was a cable stretched across the rice paddy that caught their skids and flipped us over.

What cable?

I told the officer how ridiculous such a story was. How would the Viet Cong know where to strap a steel cable in all of the rice fields throughout the Delta to cause a Helicopter accident? And of course when the Flying Crane picked up the helicopter to bring the damaged carcass back to base, was any cable found in the water?

It was my positon that pilot bravado and human err caused the destruction of the Helicopter which could have killed us all. Ultimately, the determination was made that when the Huey sat down in the water, hovering, the compartment below the floor deck filled partially with water. As the Helicopter tilted and started forward, the weight of the water in the under compartment moved forward driving the helicopter into the ground. I do not know if that was the truth or a cover up. It doesn’t matter.

It was a bad but memorable day




yet it turned out alright! We survived another day without casualty. I was soon headed home. Our Blackhawk Unit continued with its air missions until leaving Vietnam in1972.

***NOTE: The above story, having a ‘good ending’, was one that I could share with my family soon after arriving home. When writing letters from Vietnam and after getting home I did not communicate the painful events experienced in war. I arrived home about 3 weeks after the ‘crash’. I still wonder about having that ‘hyper mind activity’ where my brain went into ‘turbo mode’.

My mother

My mother tells of being woken in the middle of the night, sitting up and hearing me yell her name. It is not like my mother to have such an experience. The time frames appear to mesh fairly well. Is there a higher level of cognitive function and method of distant communication available to human beings? 





I don’t know. –

Above photo:: Members of Special Forces Association, Smoky Mountains Chapter. L-R: Bill Gunn, William Knowlton, John Funderburk, Robert Terry Smith, and Phill Hanson

Mike Di Rocco in his Special Forces green jacket, having a good time at the 51șÚÁÏÍű.

Team leader Phill Hanson holds his salute during the “Final Roll Call.”

Beautiful rolling hills and mountains overlook the Western Carolina State 51șÚÁÏÍű Cemetery in Black Mountain.

Presentation of the flag to Maggie Di Rocco by a Senior Master Sergeant from the Fort Bragg Green Berets during memorial service at Sacred Heart Catholic CHurch, Brevard.

Green Beret Robert Terry Smith with Maggie Di Rocco

A painting of Green Beret Mike on patrol in the Van Cahn Valley, VIetnam 1965, by military illustrator and painter Max Grace.

Bradford C. Freeman of Caledonia, Mississippi, passed away this week.
He was the only living member of the
“Band of Brothers” 101st Airborne Division, WWII.

July 4, 2020: Soon after being honored on a visit to New Orleans’ , Mr. Bradford Freeman unfortunately became ill and passed away in his Mississippi home. He lived alone but had family and close friends close by, who visited him frequently. He was called “Mr. Brad.”

Here is the story Bradford Freeman told me in March 2021. Until this week, Freeman was the last surviving member of the Band of Brothers.

“I was one of eight children. We grew up working on our daddy’s rented 410-acre farm near Artesia, Mississippi, black land. We grew cotton, corn, hay, and cattle, and operated a dairy farm. I was an 18-year-old freshman at Mississippi State studying agriculture when I was told that if I joined the Army I could avoid being drafted. They let me finish out that year.”

Bradford Freeman

Protecting the Soldiers Coming Ashore at

“We had to take the place and get the big guns so they couldn’t interfere with the soldiers who were coming ashore at Normandy. We scattered pit and set up. We were taking roads and bridges. They had told us that if we saw an enemy truck coming down the road, to shoot the driver. We happened to be fortunate enough to do it right, I reckon. We secured the area and let the Army go through. They had come ashore and now they got on with their business.”

“Eisenhower wanted us to take a beach town . . .”

“A week or so later, General Eisenhower wanted us to take a beach town on a peninsula in France that the Germans occupied. It was a place where landing would be a lot easier than landing on the beaches. It was surrounded by water. There was no way to get to it but a concrete bridge—one way in, same way out. We were firing mortars into that town. We finally took the town.”

Operation Market Garden

“We went back to England and did more jumps. We were loaned to the British Army. We jumped for them in Holland on September 17, 1944 [Operation Market Garden]. The Germans came right on down the river and blew the bridge, so we had to turn around and go back. We saw the Dutch people taking girls who had associated with the Germans and cutting their hair off. We laughed at that.”

“We’re from the United States of America, we’re going to do whatever we want to.”

“We went to Bastogne when German tanks came through. When a German plane came over, we would stop and stand still like a fence post. We heard the Americans were losing and giving up and that was a sad thing for us. We were told to run, but we took off after the Germans. One of our fellas, a short, little guy about five feet, “Babe” Heffron, told them, ‘We’re from the United States of America, we’re going to do whatever we want to.’”

“When the Germans found out we were the 101st, they stopped.”

“When the Germans found out we were the 101st, they stopped. When they saw the eagle on our shoulders, they stopped. They knew who we were, yes ma’am. We waited for the Americans coming on up. We set up our mortars and were supposed to take three towns.

“During the Battle of the Bulge, I got shot in my right leg near Neuville, France. It didn’t hit the bone, but it cut a leader in my leg. I couldn’t control my foot, but I could drag it along. They said I got shot by a ‘Screaming Mimi.’ You could hear it coming, but you can’t get out of the way. They said it was a little boy who did the shooting.

“Then there was more shooting. We tried to get out of the way and took cover between two dead mules. They was froze solid and boy, they were cold! That was all the mules I seen in all of Europe. A Jeep picked us up and took us to town.”

“You take care of the other boy first.”

“Another fella, Ed Joint, got shot in the arm. The medic came and started cutting my britcha-leg. I told him, ‘You take care of the other boy first. I’m not hurt.’ But I was. The medic couldn’t do anything for the leader in my leg, so they flew me to England, where I stayed for three months before they could get the leader to grow back to where it would stay. I got back into the fighting. Now, I can walk on two feet.”

Guarding Eagle’s Nest

“We were near Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest when the Germans surrendered. I was guarding a bridge nearby. The Germans were coming up and we were guarding it. We got a new bunch of soldiers in and we were training them.

“Some of us were assigned to load horses into train cars. Every other car had horses and the cars between them had displaced persons. We rode on the ends of the car asÌęguards. We got off at one of the stops and didn’t go all the way, so I don’t know where they ended up. They sent a truck to pick us up.”

Bradford Freeman

The United Kingdom’s Prince Charles shakes the hand of Bradford Freeman in London.

Freeman often spoke to groups about his service in the 101st Airborne.

When Mr. Brad was thanked in 2021 for what he did to save our civilization from Naziism, he said, “I was glad to do it and was glad I could do it.”

Asked if he was ever scared when jumping out of a plane, he said, “No, we were trained for it and we went there to do it. And I had packed my own chute.”

In recent years, many groups came to Mr. Brad’s home to hold ceremonies with color guards, flags, awards, and speeches, to honor him for his service with the 101st Airborne.

He said, “I would sit on my porch while they paraded by. I was thrilled with the displays of American flags and banners they put in my yard.” In my last phone conversation with him earlier this year, he told me he’d just been outside feeding his chickens.

Freeman often spoke to groups about his service in the 101st Airborne.

Individuals wrote letters asking for his autograph. Many people called, asking him to him tell his story. Others emailed or called his friend, Ms. Joanne Gunn, who helped schedule phone interviews with people from far away.

In 2019, a sixteen-year-old student from Ontario, Canada, Jaxon Hekkenberg, read Freeman’s story in this newsletter and asked for help arranging a phone call. Mr. Brad told his story to Hekkenberg, whose goal is to create a YouTube channel of the stories he’s collected from WWII veterans.

Mr. Brad was a hero whom we were fortunate to know. His story will live on with its sharing by young people like Jaxon, and all of us who are grateful for the courage of the Band of Brothers and so many more who won the war.

By Janis Allen

Veteran Makes Call to Action!

By Kenneth Corn

From the time David Cook turned seven years old until he raised his right hand to
take the oath to defend his county, he knew he was destined to join the US Navy.Ìę

Cook can trace his family’s Navy service back four generations.Ìę His father finished
his Navy career in the same year Cook completed boot camp.Ìę You could say Cook
was born to be in the Navy.

Cook said his father ‘pulled a few strings with the Admiral’ to get him assigned to
Naval Air Station North Island in San Diego, California, where his father served.Ìę
When he arrived at his first command, Cook’s division officer said his father had
requested Cook for the next day and for him to wear his Service Dress Blue
uniform.Ìę Cook asked his father, “What’s going on?”

“He said, ‘I’m getting a Navy commendation medal and I want you standing ranks
with me.’ I thought that was pretty cool,” said Cook. “I got to have tea with the
ŽĄ»ćłŸŸ±°ùČč±ô.”

A picture of David Cook after Bootcamp. Cook said, “He knew he was destined to join the US Navy.”Ìę

Cook Steps Aboard the USS Kitty Hawk

Cook spent eighteen months at NAS North Island keeping Grumman C-1 Trader
aircraft in the air. On his second command assignment, Cook traded shore duty
(land-based duty) for sea duty. Sea duty meant that Cook would pack up his sea
bag and move on to a commissioned vessel.

Cook asked command, “what ship?”ÌęThe answer was the USS Kitty Hawk.
“I was like ‘cool’,” said Cook.Ìę “I joined up in North Carolina, so I had a connection
with it.”

That connection inspired Cook to read up on the Kitty Hawk’s history.Ìę Cook found
another fact that made him feel a bond with the aircraft carrier.

“I was born in 1961. The ship was commissioned in March of 1961,” said Cook.
“So, I had a connection with that, being so close to my birthday.Ìę It was kind of a
spiritual thing between me and the ship.”

A picture of the Northrop Grumman E-2 Hawkeye from Cook’s collection of memorabilia from his Navy career.

New Command meant New Aircraft

Cook’s new command also meant a new aircraft for Cook to keep flying. He would use his mechanic skills on the Northrop GrummanÌę E-2 Hawkeye, an all-weather, carrier-capable, tactical airborne early warning (AEW) aircraft.ÌęÌęÌę

“Our call sign was the Sun Kings,” said Cook. “Basically, it was what we call carrier airborne early warning squadron. Kind of like the Navy’s version of the Air Force’s AWACS. They actually called the Hawkeye the mother of the AWACS.Ìę We were the eyes and the ears of the fleet. We were always the first ones off the deck.”

An Encounter with a Russian SubmarineÌę

Cook’s bond with the USS Kitty Hawk grew stronger early one morning in
1984.ÌęAfter a training exercise with the South Koreans, the carrier continued
sailing through the Sea of Japan. Cook remembers that his squadron wasn’t flying
that night, but he was still at his post on the flight deck. Sometime near 0300
hours, Cook took a snack break that he would never forget.

“I went down to the berthing area and opened my coffin locker, grabbed a candy
bar, and about that time, it sounded like a bomb going off,” said Cook. “And I’m
like, oh my god, they have dropped a bomb on the flight deck.”
The Cold War between the former Soviet Union and the U.S. was in full swing.
Cook said the Kitty Hawk and the Russian submarine had been playing a game of
cat and mouse for weeks.

“Then I heard a scraping noise going down the side of the ship,” said Cook. “First, I
heard the bomb. Then, I heard the scraping noise, and I already knew we were
being followed or tracked by them. And I said, ‘I think we found her.”

Scared, but not surprised, Cook said these games between Russian and American
vessels were common during this period in American history.Ìę His own E-2
Hawkeye squadron took pictures of the Russian submarine very close to the
carrier’s battle group. Cook believes the Russian submarine had already crossed
the Kitty Hawk’s bow at least once before the collision.

“Hitting a nuclear submarine about where the reactor is, it’s a good thing that we
all didn’t get blown up,” said Cook.Ìę “It could have been bad.”

Cook saved a 1984 edition of Newsweek magazine containing this picture and a report of the collision with the Russian Submarine.Ìę

Reports of the collision appeared in world newspapers, magazines, and television.
As reported by Newsweek, both vessels escaped without serious damage. Cook
believes this footnote in the Cold War is just one piece of the carrier’s history that
should save the Kitty Hawk from the scrap yard.

A call to ActionÌę

“Even before they decommissioned her, I thought, I have to do something,” said Cook. “I would be devastated if they turned it into razor blades.”

The Navy’s last commissioned conventional-powered aircraft carrier operated for 48 years before it was decommissioned in 2009. The Kitty Hawk is also the last aircraft carrier that could be turned into a museum ship.Ìę According to the Navy, nuclear carriers require extensive disassembly to remove their nuclear reactors during decommissioning, leaving them in an unsuitable condition for donation.

BREMERTON, WA, UNITED STATES 03.09.2021 The Kitty Hawk was moved into Dry Dock 6 March 9th The Dry Docking will allow Marine growth to be removed from the hull in preparation for its departure and eventual dismantling. The Kitty Hawk was decommissioned in Puget Sound Naval Shipyard and Intermediate Maintenance Facility in 2009 following 48 years of active service. The ship has been “Mothballed” at The Inactive Ships Maintenance Facility since then.(US NAVY) Photo by Wendy Hallmark)

Cook says the Kitty Hawk should be anchored in Wilmington, NC, next to the USS
North Carolina battleship.Ìę “It would be great for tourism in North Carolina, and it
would also develop a lot of jobs,” said Cook.

USS Kitty Hawk 51șÚÁÏÍű Association had the same idea but as a Long Beach,
California, museum.Ìę In a newspaper article dated March of 2017, the
KitsapÌęSunÌęof Bremerton, Washington, reported that the Association secured a
spot and was simply waiting for the Navy to put the Kitty Hawk in a donation
hold.Ìę At the time, the carrierÌęsatÌęat the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard and
Intermediate Maintenance Facility along with four other decommissioned aircraft
carriers.

“Even though I was in the aviation field, there’s something about being at sea that
becomes a part of you,” said Cook.Ìę “It’s an awesome ship.”

In October of 2021, the KitsapÌęSunÌębroke the news that the Navy sold two aircraft
carriers to the International Shipbreaking Limited, which is based in Brownsville,
Texas.Ìę One of them was the USS Kitty Hawk. Even with this bad news, Cook says
he will continue to write letters to his congressmen and senators to save the
Hawk.

“Myself as a Navy veteran and all the other people that spent time on it, that was
our safe place to be when we visited other countries,” said Cook.Ìę “It was our
łóŽÇłŸ±đ.”

“It was our home,” said David Cook, USS Kitty Hawk veteran.Ìę Above, Cook shows friend Michele Bretz his collection of memorabilia from his service on the Kitty Hawk.

Ìę

Japanese “Betty” on fire. Photo courtesy Joe Cooper.

Joe Cooper shares his knowledge of Japanese Samurai swords displayed in the 51șÚÁÏÍű History Museum in 2022.

“My name is Joe Dayton Cooper. I am 99 years old. I will be 100 on July 6, 2022. I was born in Asheville, but my dad moved to Brevard when I was four years old and opened a garage. He was an auto mechanic. He served in World War One. He was an engineer. That’s where he learned his trade. He was a good dad. He was a metal smith. He could make knives, swords—you ought to see the tools—he made screwdrivers, all kind of stuff.”

ÌęAttack on Pearl Harbor

“When the Japanese attacked , I was at Camp Straus in Brevard. After that, I joined the Navy. I went in the Navy because I was too young and they wouldn’t take me in the Marine Corps. They said, ‘We don’t take kids in here. Go home and grow up.’ The Navy said, ‘We’ll feed you eggs and milk.’ I was five feet six and 110 pounds.
“I had two brothers. They were in the Navy. One worked in a shipyard, and in ’44, he went in the Navy. We grew up poor. We ate three meals a day, but it was mostly beans and cornbread and buttermilk. They fed us good in the Navy.

In the Navy

“I went to training in Norfolk, Virginia. I was in Platoon 361. I still remember that platoon. I worked up as a gunner’s mate. I went to the gunner’s school across from Pearl Harbor. We had to learn the ammunition first, how to handle ammunition. Then we learned about the guns. We shot at drones that were five feet wide and remote-controlled.

“I was shooting a 50-caliber and a 75. The highest was eight-inch. They had sixteen-inch out there, but I never did get to fire one of them. I fired the 40-millimeter twin barrel. It was a Swedish gun. I was assigned to the submarine fighter USS PC (“Peter Charley”) 477 for 17 months—Midway, Guadalcanal, New Guinea. It was built like a destroyer.”

Hunting Submarines

We hunted submarines. We took our training in the Gulf of Mexico dropping depth chargers. Later on, they put rockets on the bow—two of them—one on port and one on starboard. We’d fire, and they wouldn’t go off till they hit something under the water.

“They sent us to New Guinea, then to Cairnes, Australia. I took a train to Sydney, then went on to troop ship Mount Vernon. It was on the USS George Washington luxury liner before it was converted to the Mount Vernon troop ship. Then to San Francisco and was assigned to the USS Ommaney Bay. That was one of the escort carriers.”

I Was a Plank Owner

“I met Henry Kaiser, who built the escort carriers, during the commissioning. I got papers that showed I was a plank owner of the USS Ommaney Bay. I was one of the first crew members on the ship when it was commissioned in San Francisco. I became a twin 40-millimeter gunner on the left side.”

“We were bringing a P-61 2-wing night fighter Blackhawk to Brisbane. We made an emergency cruise to Sydney, Australia. We were testing the boiler run wide open to avoid submarines. Took some P-47 Thunderbolts to Brisbane and a P-61 back with us. The twin night fighter had radar. Then we went to Alaska and then to the Hawaiian Islands. Then we took the Army 81st Wildcat Division and went to Guadalcanal and picked up the First Marine Division. We landed in the Palau Islands, south of Leyte. Palau means ‘tall tales’ in Spanish.”

The USS Ommaney Bay blows up after being attacked by a kamikaze. Photo courtesy Joe Cooper.

CliPart two of Joe Cooper’s story will appear in a future issue.We Got All the Japanese Planes Down

“It was September 1944. We were close support. We went in 14 days before the landing craft. The cruisers and battleships bombarded, and we offered air cover for them and bombed inland. That was the first time I fired the 40-millimeter in combat. The Japanese planes were attacking.

The planes were attacking, but we got ‘em all down. They didn’t do any damage. Bill Halsey said to bypass the island because it wasn’t worth it. Admiral Nimitz overruled him and we attacked anyway. The Marines were mad about it because it cost lives.

The Battle of Leyte Gulf

“I have a picture of a Japanese ‘Betty,’ just like a B-25 and B-26. [Mitsubishi Navy Type 1 attack bomber]. We were there about a month. Then we had to go to The Philippines—Leyte, October 24. We were softening up Leyte for the invasion of The Philippines—MacArthur’s return. There the Japanese started the kamikaze—suicide bombing. And then we had that big sea battle out there, at the Battle of Leyte Gulf. They wasn’t modernized like our battleships.”

The Battle of Surigao Strait, The Philippines

“We couldn’t tell what was a bomber and what was a kamikaze. They’d come there three and four at a time and one would go back and report what they’d done. Three of them would dive on us. They dropped torpedoes. In the picture of the plane we shot, it’s on fire, it did a barrel roll and hit about 200 yards from us in the ocean. The Ommaney Bay didn’t suffer any damage during the Battle of Leyte Gulf. We stored 24 torpedoes on the bulkhead down there. That was the closest call we had, but we were lucky. A lot of ships got hit. Our destroyer escort got sunk.”

Battleship Yamoto Destroyed

“The big Japanese battleship Yamoto was destroyed—eight Jap battleships in the battle off Okinawa. The planes from our carrier were attacking it. We were attacking it. We saw it happen.
“In December of 1944, we pulled out of The Philippines, went back to Admiralty Islands and got supplies to go through the strait to Mindoro to support the Marines. That’s where we got hit. When the sun went down, we launched planes to look for submarines. We changed positions with another aircraft carrier. The aircraft motors were running—anti-submarine.”

Kamikaze Attack

“Here come the ‘Betty’ kamikaze, making an attack on us. It dove, trying to hit the island [of the ship]. It missed it and went right through the middle of the ship. One 1400-pound bomb went in the engine room and knocked the power out. The other one hit the hangar deck. It was on fire in the stern of the ship.

“I was finishing a meal when it happened. A friend of mine saved my life. He said, ‘Let’s go down to the crew compartment. We’d just got down there, and there was a big BOOM, I thought it was a torpedo. Smoke started coming out of the bulkhead and the lights went out. We went up to the hangar deck and saw a plane exploding, hitting the bulkhead. We tried to get up to where the pilots were. We heard hollering up there. The pilots must’ve been trapped. Most of the people on the hangar deck were killed. We couldn’t get through because the doors were locked. So we went back down and then back up through another hatch on the port side.”

“We started throwing ammunition off.”

“We started throwing ammunition off and everything. I saw one man laying there with his leg off. I couldn’t help him. I saw one with a hole in his throat and blood was gushing out. He was running, hollering. There were explosions happening everywhere. I knew I had to get out as quick as I could. We had a lot of ammunition and thousands of gallons of gas on that ship. I said to myself, ‘I better get off before it blows up.’

“They were passing the word to jump. They said it wasn’t no good—everybody over the side. It was about 65 feet, so I just went over the side. I wasn’t scared of heights, I just wanted to get off of there. I didn’t have a life jacket on. My life jacket was down there by my gun. I jumped off the port bow.”

Joe Cooper will be honored by the 51șÚÁÏÍű during and after Brevard’s Memorial Day parade on May 30. Cooper will ride in the WWII Jeep during the parade and meet members of the public in the museum after the parade to sign free copies of his story.

Click here to read Part two of Joe Cooper’s story

Joe Cooper, WWII and Korean War Veteran
Interviewed by Andrew Biggio & Michael McCarthy
Written by Janis Allen for the Transylvania Times

WWII veterans attend a sneak preview of the WWII Jeep exhibit in the museum on February 28, 2020. From left, L.C. Poor, Joe Cooper, James Brush, George Koch, and Ed Cottrell.

In part one, we learned that Cooper and the crew of the USS Ommaney Bay had to abandon ship when hit by a Japanese kamikaze . . .

Overboard in Shark-Infested Waters

Joe Cooper told his story: “In the water, somebody said, “Here, you take this life jacket, but the buckle was busted, so I put it under my armpits. I was by myself out there, and I saw a life raft.

“There was sharks. Looked like men were climbing on each other’s shoulders to get out of the water. I remembered from Guadalcanal, we saw a submarine’s periscope. We fired a torpedo. I run back there and saw oil slicks. It was a cargo ship and sunk it. It was our first submarine. I’d seen men get pulled under by sharks and ate up at Guadalcanal. After Guadalcanal, they told us, ‘If you ever hit the water, don’t kick or nothing, because the sharks will come after you.”

“We retrieved one life jacket [from the Japanese submarine]. It said, ‘Made in Brooklyn Navy Yard for the Japanese Navy.’ They said ‘We can’t take that thing back home.’ The U.S. made stuff for the Japanese Navy before the war started. It would’ve made people mad that we made stuff for them.
“In the water, I stayed still and a few sharks just went by me. No ships came to support us because the light carrier Princeton had been damaged when it went alongside the Birmingham when it was bombed, so they stayed away from us. So they let us burn. 51șÚÁÏÍű 297 men were killed. The ship didn’t go down. It was blowed up by a [U.S. Navy] destroyer.”

The Ommaney Bay burns as its crew watches from the USS Minneapolis where they were taken after being rescued

Rescue

“I was out there about four or five hours. Finally, the old USS Helm 388 destroyer came by. They sent boats out and started picking us all up. Trying to get in, I grabbed the side and they said, ‘Hey, you’re gonna turn the boat over.’ I grabbed a cargo net that was on it and somebody reached down there and grabbed my arm and jerked me up on the deck. I was crawling. Somebody said, ‘Are you injured?’ I said, ‘No, I’m just scared.’ He put a cigarette in my mouth. I puffed on it and told him, ‘I don’t smoke,’ and I spit it out. They said, ‘Had anything to eat?’ I said, ‘Nothing since this thing happened.’
“Late that night, I was on the USS Minneapolis heavy cruiser. I stayed on the Minneapolis for three or four months. There was a 20-millimeter on the Minneapolis and they asked me to man it. I said, ‘Is that thing steady?’ It was big as a boxcar. I went up on top of that thing and manned a 20-millimeter.”

Watching the Burn

“We could still see the Ommaney Bay burning from the Minneapolis. When the sun went down, it looked like a big torch. Red hot. When it blowed, and I saw a piece of it, looked like the island, it went up a thousand feet in the air. The ship never did sink, it went BOOM. It’s still in the Pacific Ocean.

“After the Ommaney Bay got hit, they transferred some of the other crew to the Columbia. The Columbia was bombed, and they lost 25 of our crew. They brought in about 25 dead. One of them was my best friend. He was in the ammunition handling room. They couldn’t get him out. His name was Joe Kushivy. He was Polish. We’d play cards together.

“In April 1945, I was sent back to the United States and assigned at Fort Worden in Port Townsend, Washington. They had guns there in case enemy submarines came into Puget Sound. They had hundreds of landing craft there. My job was to check the boats and see if they were leaking water. That was the end of the war for me. I was discharged in 1945.”
Back Home after the War and then Into the Army
“Back at home, I couldn’t find work around here much, so I thought I’d try the Army. I enlisted in the Army as a Corporal in the infantry, trained in Camp Pickett, Virginia. I was in the 43rd Division, went to Ft. Lewes, and sailed on the Morris Rose to Germany.

“DeGaulle wouldn’t let us land in France. He got mad because they wouldn’t make him Supreme Commander instead of Eisenhower. So we had to go to Holland. I was in Germany during the Berlin air lift in 1948. Then I made Sergeant.”
After serving in the Navy in the Pacific during WWII and going home, Joe Cooper joined the U.S. Army and served in the

Korean War

Joe Cooper: “I was in the Okinawa occupation, then they wanted replacements in Korea. I told the company commander I’d like to go. He said, ‘You have to go in the infantry as a rifleman.’ I said, ‘Yeah.’ I went in 1950. They sent me to Tokyo for training first. I went to Sassabo, which is the jump-off to go to Pusan.

In Korea after the Invasion of Pusan

“I came after the invasion of Pusan. A whole bunch of us went into Pusan on a landing craft. After a few weeks, there came a major out in the field. He said, ‘Hey, your papers said you were a volunteer to go to Korea. What kind of grudge have you got against these people?’ I said, ‘Sir, I ain’t got no grudge. I’m fighting for esprit de corps, fellowship.’ He said, ‘I don’t know nothing about that.’

So he left and then a commander called me up. He said, ‘Hey, do you know you turned combat on us? You’re in the wrong company.’ It was a radio station company. I didn’t know it, but I looked at my paper and I was assigned to the 7th Infantry division. They were building up that division in Chusan reservoir, so they put me there, and I was in the 7th Recon Division. In there, you go out and search, find, and radio it in. They don’t tell you in combat, they attack you.”
Heartbreak Ridge and Punchbowl

“We went out to Heartbreak Ridge and Punchbowl. There was an old walkie-talkie up there, sunk. We patrolled up there. Then we went to Tum-shon. That’s where outposts were—Pike’s Peak, Iron Triangle, Sniper Ridge and Jane Russell. We manned those outposts in front of Chinese troops outposts, Mountains 10-62. They called it Papa-San because it was big.
“Then they took us back to Camp Young, Korea, for training—throwing grenades, shooting rifles. I said, ‘Man, what’s going on?’ We were going back through training again. It was Christmas. We loaded up about 1:00 in the morning in trucks. It was snowing and my truck didn’t have a cover. Oh, it was cold. An officer gave me a fifth of liquor. I drank it like a Co-cola!”

Manning the Outposts

“We started up. I didn’t know where they was going—25th Infantry Division, we relieved the Drake and Ilyan and Portstop and Queen Jack Outpost. We had to man them outposts. So the Chinese dug in the reverse side of the mountain. They said their tires were so deep, they could hold and dug in the side of the mountain. We didn’t have anything like that. A few logs on top of it, that’s all we had. We had to go on combat patrols at nighttime. We had an interpreter with us. They took Charlie Outpost.”

Taking Back Charlie Outpost from the Chinese

“We had to go and take it back. They said, ‘Load your ammunition, we’re going to take Charlie Mountain outpost back.’ The Chinese were good fighters. They just wore tennis shoes—they’re good to sneak up on you.
“We could see them up there on top of the mountain, going around the ridge lines. They was hunkered down in cold weather just like us. The last year and a half, they mostly returned to WWI combat—trench warfare. Korea ended just like WWI. We took some prisoners. The best weapon we had was the napalm flamethrower—into every bunker. I saw a Freddie Filipino. He hit me with a flashlight, thought I was the enemy. The shells were laying in right there, and I just left that area. I don’t know where the shells over the ridge come from. They come over the hill in front of us. The next day they loaded us up and took us on the reverse side in a gully. We dug in on the other side gully. BOOM, it threw dirt up 100 feet in the air.”

Going Home

“Finally, I got orders to go back and they said, ‘I want you to pin this strap on, and if you take it off, you’re going back to the United States.”

Back in Brevard after being discharged from the Army, Cooper worked at Olin Mills [later, Ecusta] as a mechanic.

Joe Dayton Cooper served his country in two military service branches and in two wars. He will celebrate his 100th birthday on July 6, 2022.

Author Andrew Biggio (left) interviewed Joe Cooper to include his story in the next edition of Biggio’s book, The Rifle. Cooper is holding the M1 Garand (which has 200+ signatures of WWII veterans) after adding his own signature.