Going out for the history of war New Scotland exhibit honors veterans their memorise
Going out for the history of war
New Scotland exhibit honors veterans, their memorise
FEURA BUSH Veterans are an important part of American history, and, more than 60 years after the end of World War II, many of them are dying.
John Loucks Jr., a lifelong resident of New Scotland and a veteran of World War II, died on Sunday, April 8, just a day before town historian, Robert Parmenter, tried to contact him to document his war experience.
Loucks joined the United States Army Air Corps in 1941; he automatically became a member of the Air Force when it was created; and then he was a Navy reservist for a short time in the 1960s. He spent 21 years serving his country, on both active duty and as a reservist.
His son told The Enterprise that his father liked to brag that he was in three branches of the military and served in three wars World War II, the Korean War, and Vietnam.
The New Scotland museum will open an exhibit on Sunday that honors New Scotland veterans of World War I and World War II; it is called: From the Home Front to the Front Lines.
The opening will feature re-enactors of both world wars; a presentation by Bob Humes, who has a large World War II memorabilia collection; and, if the weather permits, some vintage war vehicles.
Parmenter, and his wife, Marion, are members not only of the New Scotland Historical Association, but also the museum committee.
"We just thought we’ve got to do this," Mrs. Parmenter said of the exhibit. Though the exhibit focuses on World War I and World War II, it will be dedicated to all veterans, to honor all of them, Mrs. Parmenter said.
Though all the towns World War I veterans have died, Mrs. Parmenter spent countless hours in the library going through letters that ran in The Enterprise from World War I soldiers to their families back home. One of the letters was written by Joe Lambert, of New Salem. The letter is dated Dec. 22, 1918.
Lambert writes from St. Cornelius, France: "Well, the war is over, and when I think of the things I have seen and done and gone through, I have the horrors. I have eaten and slept among the dead, and I have driven in and out to keep from running over them. I have seen all the misery and suffering I care to, but am willing to do it again if need be.
"I have smelled human blood for three weeks at a time. The whole country smelled like a slaughterhouse. Horses and men lay everywhere, but I never saw a tear-stained eye; every man had that grave and stern look."
The opportunity to talk to veterans, and hear their experiences first-hand has been the most incredible part of the exhibit, Mrs. Parmenter said.
Radioman
The exhibit will highlight the service of local veterans, like Steve Walley. Walley, 83, spoke about some harrowing times during World War II on a bright sunny day at his Feura Bush home, where he has lived with his wife, Norma, for 55 years.
Walley joined the United States Navy on Sept. 22, 1942. He said he wanted to learn a job that he could then use when he came home. He was an aviation radioman.
He attended ship-work radio school for four months, and then volunteered for aviation radio school. Walley then went to aerial gunnery school and flight operations in Jacksonville, Fla.
His squadron met as a group in Seattle following a seven-day leave, Walley recalled. They got to know each other at an auxiliary airfield in Arlington, Washington, he said.
Composite Squadron 4, of which Walley was a part, consisted of 12 torpedo bombers, and 16 fighter aircrafts, which were fighter escorts to protect the bombers, he explained.
Walley served overseas from April, 1944 to November or December of that year, he said.
The pilot that Walley flew with had volunteered to carry Marine and Army officers for observation work, he told The Enterprise.
On Aug. 1, 1944, while on an observation flight, "My pilot was flying low at the Marine captain’s request," Walley said.
The Marine officer they were working with, was on the ground, communicating to the pilot. He remembers the Marine advising the pilot to "make a turn to the right."
The plane was hit by ground fire, he said. "We went down into the water" We had no chance to use a parachute," he said.
The plane hit the water with its right wing and nose, and spun around, he said.
Walley was able to climb out onto the wing, and he tried to get the pilot out. "I reached to try and undo his belt buckle, and the whole thing went out from under him," Walley said.
The replacement pilot saw the plane go down, and radioed for help, Walley said. He was the only survivor.
"That was one harrowing experience," Walley said.
Walley won numerous awards for his military service the Air Medal, the Air Crewmans Wing with three Battle Stars, the Asia Pacific Medal with two Battle Stars, and the Presidential Unit Citation from both the United States and the Philippines.
The award from the Philippines was for a battle where two carriers were lost one by shell fire and one by kamikaze, Walley told June and Kenneth Hunter, who have conducted interviews with veterans around the state for the New York State Military Museum and Veterans Research Center in Saratoga Springs.
The aircraft carrier sunk by the Japanese suicide plane was the USS St. Lo. It was the first ship to be sunk by a kamikaze.
Walley happened to be aboard the ship. He recalled for the Hunters the events of that day.
Walleys carrier, the White Plains, was at general quarters, and, at the time, his pilot wanted to refuel and re-arm the plane. The St. Lo was not at the general quarters G.Q., as Walley referred to it and the ship took them aboard, he said.
Two lieutenants from Walleys carrier, the White Plains, landed the plane on the St. Lo. The pilot got the wave-off, because he was flying in too high, and they had to circle around again, Walley remembered.
"I might have been the last person to board that ship before it was sunk," Walley said. "I was on it about 18 minutes."
In those minutes, Walley recalled his movements. He went up to the radio shack, on the left side of the ship, picked up a new microphone and put it in the turret slot when the microphone went dead, and he tested the battery.
"I went back up on the wing to throw the battery switch off" That’s when all hell broke loose," Walley said.
"That’s when the kamikaze hit; it came through the back elevator, onto the hangar deck and bombs went off" his bomb first, then the stuff they were loading onto planes to go out," Walley recalled with a stoic expression.
The captain told the crew, "Standby to abandon ship," Walley said.
"I’m standing there" wondering which way to go," he remembered. "I didn’t know I had that shrapnel in my leg even. But it was only a small piece of aluminum, so I pulled it out and tied a handkerchief around it.
"Those other fellows were a lot worse than me, and I didn’t even think about it," Walley told The Enterprise of his shrapnel wound.
When Mrs. Hunter asked Walley how he got off the St. Lo, Walley responded bluntly, "I jumped."
Walley explained that he was about 18 or 20 feet above the water when he jumped off the ship, and, when he surfaced after hitting the water, he pulled the two pressurized carbon-dioxide bottles that inflated a life jacket. "I would have broke my neck if I hadn’t," he said.
Walley remembered people who were climbing down ropes off of the St. Lo, and others were trying to get lifeboats into the water, but there werent many of them; mostly, he said, there were cork floater nets. Walley swam to the USS Dennis.
He remained aboard the Dennis overnight, where he was issued a razor and a toothbrush from the Red Cross, he said.
"They were really heroic," Walley told The Enterprise of the crew aboard the St. Lo that fateful day.
More than 100 people died that day, Walley said; their names are engraved on a memorial tomb in San Diego.
Walley told the Hunters that his time in the Navy "really paid off." When he returned to the States, Walley worked as an installer of telephone, radio, and microwave equipment for Western Electric. "My job in the Navy helped my job in the civilian life," he said.
The Walleys will celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary this year. They have six children, many grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren, he proudly told The Enterprise.
Walley says that he and his wife stay young by being active; the couple gave up snowmobiling only a few years ago, at age 80.
"After all these years it’s mellowed out," Walley said of how he has coped with the war. "You wouldn’t want to go through it again."
