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At left, Wally and Gordon as youngsters in 1937; at right, Wally and Gordon as young men in 1943. |
Thoughts in the Night
About a Great Brother
of TheColumnists.com
I must have been
dreaming because the other morning I woke up thinking about Wally.
Maybe it was due to watching the last episode of Ken Burns’
recent 15-hour long documentary, “The War.” It may
have brought back memories of my brother Wally and other kids
from our high school who fought and died in the Pacific.
Wally rarely talked about what happened over there and resembled
a lot of other war veterans who were only too glad that particular
adventure was finally over. In the life that followed, Wally’s
was a happy one. But he would need to be a brave soldier one
last time.
When those final moments came they didn’t come unexpectedly,
suddenly and explosively the way they had for his classmates
and friends on Okinawa, in Korea, and Japan. Wally’s were
extended, long and agonizing.
When we were small boys growing up in Oakland, California, my
four-year old brother never understood why he wasn’t older
than I. After all, his birthday came three days before mine in
August and yet Mom put more candles on my birthday cake. While
my mother and father laughed about it, since he didn’t yet
grasp the fact we were four years apart in age, Wally’s
interest in numbers and asking “why” about them was
to turn out to be his strength. He began getting A’s in
all his math courses in school and in later life would become
a professionally educated engineer.
In those halcyon days Wally was a happy, lively and friendly
little blue-eyed boy. He never got into fights with other kids
the way I did, not with that big smile of his which always earned
him lots of friends. As a couple of close siblings my brother
and I never fought physically one with the other, but our interests
at home and at school were entirely different.
Wally would spend hours at the kitchen table constructing model
airplanes, assembling erector sets, or repairing self-propelled
cars. I liked cartooning, writing stories of adventure, and circulating
small hand-printed newspapers around the neighborhood. This explains
why Wally became adept at using a slide rule and I sat under
a tree watching the clouds roll by.
Wally reported for duty in U.S. Army six months after I entered
the service. He got his draft notice right after graduating from
San Leandro High School at the tender age of 18 and couldn’t
go to college till after the war. When Uncle Sam sent Wally to
Fort Lewis, Washington for basic training and combat engineering
at Aberdeen Proving Grounds near Baltimore, Maryland, it was
his first full-time job.
When he finished training and was finally shipped to the Pacific,
Wally and his engineering outfit landed during the time the greatest
air-sea-and-land battle of World War II was coming to an end.
However, their victory over the Japanese was hardly complete
when everyone on the island had to confront another life-threatening
surprise. An angry Mother Nature suddenly began blowing up a
storm and trying to level everything in sight, including everything
that an American armada had landed ashore against great odds.
Gale-force winds began pounding land and sea with such power
that it blew ships ashore and capsized naval vessels, drowning
hundreds and injuring thousands of men. On the windswept site
of Wally’s outfit, they had to work feverishly to batten
down everything as the gale was threatening to completely destroy
their tents, equipment and supplies. Somehow they managed to
secure their sector and escape major damage. But the threat to
their lives wasn’t over.
Wally’s outfit and all the others now had to begin preparing
for the last major battle of the Pacific war–the invasion
of Japan. Their costly victory at Okinawa proved the next one
would be met with a suicidal resistance and yet the war could
not be won without it. The life of my brother and an estimated
million of his comrades were at risk if they had to fight their
way onto Japanese soil.
Although it was a devastating blow to Japan, the decision by
President Truman to use nuclear bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
horrible as it was, saved not only American lives, but millions
of Japanese as well, because it immediately halted the certainty
of tremendous future bloodshed. Japan’s surrender not only
brought a long hoped-for peace but also enabled it to rebuild
its civilian economy and become a prosperous democratic nation
and an incredible industrial power.
While he had had one or two moneymaking odd jobs as a boy, Wally
chose to use the GI Bill to major in mechanical engineering at
San Jose State College after the war. With his B.S. degree Wally
accepted a position in the main office of the Southern Pacific
Company, commuting weekdays from San Leandro to San Francisco
from the early l950s until he retired in the l980s. He and his
wife Audrey had one son, Matthew, and he in turn made them grandparents
by having two daughters with his wife, Michelle.
While in harm’s way several times in World War II, Wally’s
courage in the end was tested by a doctor’s diagnosis–that
he was suffering from complete kidney failure. When this turned
out to be his last battle, he faced it like a real man. Due to
a weak heart, Wally was an inappropriate candidate for a transplant
operation. So his only alternative was to use an artificial kidney
machine. Choosing to run the machine himself, rather than be
taken every other day to a clinic, Wally learned to hook himself
up six times each 24 hours to self-administer home dialysis to
stay alive.
For five years, day after night, even while he slept, this pumping
equipment kept his system going. But after a number of years
his heart weakened and other vital organs began failing. In the
last few months he couldn’t stand up without fainting. But
if you had visited him during most of the earlier time, he gave
no hint of being an invalid. Always cheerful and willing to help
around the house as best he could, Wally simply would not give
up.
As my brother was someone who never sought the limelight or public
attention, I found it difficult to get him to consent to an interview
about his life using my home tape recorder. Despite my frequent
entreaties, Wally would wave me off, laughing, and saying, “Those
days are gone. Why think about them today? I wouldn’t remember
enough of the past anyway.”
Well, I finally tricked my brother and recorded him unawares
over the telephone on June 6, l999; it was the 55th anniversary
of D-Day. Over the years I’d made it a habit to phone old
Army buddies on veterans’ holidays. So this time it gave
me a good excuse to talk to Wally. In the course of our conversation
I pumped him for those happy days we knew as children when we
were growing up in Oakland as well as fun times he had playing
golf. Nobody knew how long Wally would live and I wanted something
to pass along to his grandchildren. Yes, I know it was technically
illegal to record his conversation over the telephone but now
that I have it, “Sue me!”
We lost Wally on October 2, 2002. The local newspaper noted his
passing with a simple five-sentence obituary. But I felt that
someday his family would like to hear his voice on that recording
and much later I sent it to his widow, and son and daughter-in-law
for their family.
Frankly, there were memories on the tape I had completely forgotten
about myself. But most of the joy of replaying it came from hearing
Wally’s voice again. He awakened my own happy thoughts of
our lives as “just kids” and he seemed to genuinely
take pleasure in talking about those long lost days himself.
Wally was, as usual, upbeat and cheerful. What a guy! He fought
the good fight right to the end. How lucky I was to have had
Wally as my brother.
©2007 by Gordon Greb. The caricature of the author is by the author. The photos are the property of the author. All rights reserved. This column first posted Oct. 22, 2007.
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