Remembering one of my heroes

November holds a special place in my heart.

I love the colors of autumn and holidays with family, but most of all, it’s a time when the memories of my late grandfather, Robert “Bob” L. Welch, come to life. Not only is his birthday on the 7th of the month (He would have been 102 years old this year.), but the stories of his time in the Army come alive as we mark Veterans Day, honoring all who have served in the Armed Forces.

In my youth, Bob would tell us about his time at Pearl Harbor and the 1941 attack. He’d share memories of helping farmers harvest grains in South Dakota, dances with the local ladies, and the short time he was in Europe during World War II.

As a teenager, I didn’t fully appreciate him sharing these memories. Later, my grandfather wrote his memoir, including more detail than I had the patience to listen to years ago. I recently read through his writings and am struck by how much his short time in the Army shaped the man I knew and loved, even to the point that he corrected my posture EVERY time I saw him.

Shortly after his 21st birthday in 1940, Bob enlisted at a New York recruiting office for service in the Army. He had an interest in engineering, and it seemed like a good opportunity. In fact, after his service, he became an engineer, helping build and inspect I-5 and the floating bridges in Seattle.

His personality certainly comes through in his account of how the Army converted a WWI Cattle Boat captured from the Germans into a transport ship. He was very efficient and liked things a certain way.

“We loaded aboard the Army Troop Transport I in New York Harbor in February 1941 and set out through a skim of ice into the cold gray overcast. The Republic was a converted cattle boat captured from the Germans in WWI. It had been used to transport cattle to Australia. Now our bunks were crowded close and three deep. It was necessary to climb above two bunks to reach the top tier.

There was a new propeller tied down on the deck. The old one was bent and vibrated terribly, making it necessary to go no more than six or seven knots. The military, being the inefficient entity that it is, couldn’t spare time to dry dock the ship and install the new prop. Consequently, we limped along through a severe storm off Cape Hatteras, N.C., and most of us became seasick. By the time we reached Panama, we were a pretty drained bunch.”

One of the special things I have in common with my grandfather is our love of the outdoors. As a child, he would take me out hiking and zipping along forest roads, pointing out the flora and fauna. In recounting his trip from New York to Hawaii, he reminisced about flocks of seagulls that they’d feed bread to during basic training at Fort Slocum, watching fish as they slowly moved through locks at the Panama Canal, hiking through tropical growth for the first time to view Panama City, and being amazed by flying fish and man-o-war birds near Panama and an occasional Albatross out in the Pacific.

His time in Pearl Harbor is what I remember most from his stories about WWII. Bob was assigned to “C” battery of the 13th Field Artillery Battalion and trained with WWI 75-millimeter artillery guns – so much for being an engineer. He always mentioned how his assignment was to drive a single-axle Dodge along muddy clay roads to deliver ammunition.

He would explain in detail how the Schofield Barracks were laid out, highlighting the concrete used to build them. Bob built two houses later in life, both made of concrete. I have the feeling Schofield influenced that decision.

They spent months training and “living by the bugle.” But of course, my grandfather was ahead of the alert bugle the morning of December 7, 1941.

“We were eating breakfast in the lower level of our barrack when we heard the explosions of several bombs. We wondered “why is the Air Force practicing on a Sunday morning?” The question was answered when I stepped outside to see strange aircraft with red sun emblems beneath their wings flying toward Pearl Harbor. They dipped down toward me with machine guns flashing from both wings – I stepped behind a concrete column just in time. After witnessing a couple of strange planes in strafing runs on us, I awoke the supply sergeant, he found his keys, opened the locked boxes of ammunition. I acquired the Springfield rifle and ammunition assigned to truck drivers and was well on my way to the motor park after my truck with my field pack, shelter, and blanket when the bugle finally sounded “alert.”

His assignment was to drive ammunition to the north shores of the island to prevent any invasion from that direction.

“Driving north through miles of pineapple fields with my first truckload, I was following a truck loaded with infantrymen on the Kamehameha highway. They were all looking up at something behind me. Checking my rearview mirror I saw a P-40 coming down in stairstep fashion in flames. It crashed in the pineapples about 50 yards to the left of my truck. The pilot was slumped over the controls surrounded by flames. Of course, we could only continue on our way.”

While reading this, I’m always amazed that he survived that day. Not only did he survive the attack on Pearl Harbor, but his darn single axle truck slid on the wet clay roads leading up to the gun locations, going over a cliff, only to be stopped by a sapling.

When learning history, the focus is on major events like the attack on Pearl Harbor or the battle of Normandy. Yet, what my grandfather and his battalion did during the years between were also important efforts. In August of 1943, they were sent to North Dakota to harvest the grain crop to help maintain the U.S. economy and provide food to families.

This is where my grandfather remembered and shared the most information, from how they accomplished the harvest, to taking part in town dances with the ladies. However, in true teenager fashion, this was the part of his story I paid the least attention to. Re-reading his memoir, I appreciate more what the troops did to support our citizens and understand that this was probably the service my grandfather enjoyed most and wanted to share.

After the wheat harvest, Bob and his battalion began training for the European theater of operations. They would man the heavy artillery sent overseas to join the war effort. And although my grandfather spent quite a bit of time there, earning a Bronze Star and taking part in many historical events, it’s also the part of his story that he shares the least about. Except when they were building roads strong enough to roll the artillery through. He recalls in detail crushing rock (he manned the jackhammer) and laying timber. He really did love engineering.

“We were sent to Fort Riley, Kansas to train with artillery through the winter of 1943 and to Fort Bragg, North Carolina, in the spring of 1944. We were now the 277th Field Artillery Battalion scheduled to be attached to the third Army. In Fort Bragg we were issued the biggest guns the Army had; 240-millimeter Howitzers. Projectiles weighed 90 pounds. Powder charges in 30, 60, and 90 pound lots were chosen according to the type of target and need for distance.”

“Sometime in June of 1944 we shipped our equipment to New York aboard a train where we loaded everything aboard ships. We were taken to Greenock, Scotland, aboard the Queen Elizabeth. She zigzagged across the Atlantic for three days. No military ship could keep up.”

“We finally loaded everything aboard the landing ships designed to offload tanks and crossed the English Channel to Omaha Beach. Although the distant sound of guns could be heard, we were several days behind the initial invasion and crossed most of the Normandy peninsula without incident, catching up with the front at Verdun.”

“We participated in several actions; crossing the Mozelle River just upstream from Metz where I was awarded the Bronze Star for my part in silencing a German artillery battery.”

?Citation for Bronze Star Medal

Staff Sergeant Robert L. Welch, 12005180, FA, Field Artillery Battalion, for meritorious achievement in connection with military operations against the enemy in France on 14 September 1944. Proceeding from WAVILLE, Sergeant WELCH crossed the MOSELLE RIVER under enemy observation and fire and established a vital observation post only 800 yards from the German lines. Oblivious to the danger at hand, he calmly set up his instruments and after careful observation of enemy equipment and installations, he recorded information and transmitted it to his battalion. The data he acquired and sent back made possible the neutralization of an entire enemy battery. The persistence, technical proficiency and careful attention to duty of Sergeant WELCH reflect credit upon himself and the Army of the United States. Entered Military Service from New York.

“The rest is a long story. Suffice to say we were in action when the Battle of the Bulge took place in the winter of 1944-45. We swept pockets of Wehrmacht from forested hills, where we found a large group of Russian civilians emerging from a salt mine in which they had been imprisoned. After the German surrender, those people were loaded aboard trucks and hauled in the direction of Russia. I hope they survived!”

“We explored the Black Forrest and Hitler’s Eagle Nest at Obersalzburg before heading to Antwerp to board a Liberty ship in August for New York. I kept a Forget-Me-Not that I picked at Hitlers Eagle Nest. We were halfway across the Atlantic when an announcement came that the Japanese had surrendered. There was no noise or celebration about that ship, just a universal feeling of thankfulness.”

When looking at photos taken of the ships bringing American troops back from Europe, I often wonder if he’s in the crowd somewhere, standing with his perfect posture, ready to see his family in upstate New York. I am fortunate to have many of his items from the war, including the Bronze Star medal and original citation, Pearl Harbor survivor memorabilia, original letters that he wrote to family during the war, and the letters he wrote to an unknowing teenage granddaughter hoping she may one day be interested in his life.

I hope to keep his story alive, sharing it with my children and others. My son has taken an interest in WWII and is proud to know his great-grandfather was part of it. I’m thankful that he shared his story, wrote his memoir, and made sure his legacy of service was passed down.

Robert Lee Welch (1919-2007), Cooperstown, NY, US Army 1940-1945

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The Health First Foundation’s Healthy Heroes campaign invites people to pay tribute to veterans they know and admire. Donations to Healthy Heroes go to support the health and well-being of veterans in northern Arizona. Visit healthfirstforall.org to donate and learn more.