3555

The number of US deaths in Iraq as of today, June 23, 2007: 3555

These casualties are up from 3287 in my last post on this topic, April 9, 1987.

The source is a database called Iraq Coalition Casualties, which categorizes and numerates all the deaths and casualties of Bush’s Iraq War.

According to the web page Iraq Body Count, between 66,025 and 72,312 Iraqi civilians have been killed by military intervention in their country.

To break it down further, for those who might be interested:

• The state of Ohio gave 152 (up 10) of its sons and daughters.
• West Virginia lost 19 of its fine young men and women.

Congress has chosen not to do anything to stop the fighting, so Bush’s war grinds on and on and on.

To our sons and daughters, I say “I’m sorry that our country has let you down.”

3287

The number of US deaths in Iraq: 3287

Almost as many US citizens were killed in Iraq during this war as live in Wellsburg, West Virginia, (population 3385) the town in the Northern Panhandle of West Virginia where I grew up.

These casualties are up from 3150 in my last post on February 22, 1987.

The source is a database called Iraq Coalition Casualties, which details all the deaths and casualties of Bush’s Iraq War.

To break it down further, for those who might be interested:

• The state of Ohio gave 142 (up 4) of its sons and daughters.
• West Virginia lost 18 of its fine young men and women.

And the killing continues with no plans to stop.

Ole ‘55

I had moved back to Ohio after a couple years of graduate school at West Virginia University, taking my first professional job in Coshocton, Ohio. As my girlfriend of the time was still working on her degree, I used to head to Morgantown immediately after work on Friday, and return from West Virginia just in time to make it to work on Monday morning.

That meant a pre-dawn departure from the comfort of my girlfriend’s warm bed through the hills of West Virginia to Interstate Route 70 going west into eastern Ohio. There was no time to tarry nor change clothing when I reached home, if I were going to make it to work on time.

After an early start one morning, driving down the freeway, reminiscing about my pleasant weekend, with the sky brightening behind me in the east, my story of the moment was being sung by The Eagles on the radio of my red Plymouth Arrow.

Six in the morning, gave me no warnin’
I had to be on my way
Now the cars are all passin’ me,
Trucks are all flashin’ me
I’m headed home from your place

And now the sun’s comin’ up
I’m ridin’ with Lady Luck
Freeway cars and trucks

Stars beginning to fade, and I lead the parade
Just a wishin’ I’d stayed a little longer
Lord, don’t you know, the feelin’s gettin’ stronger

– Ole ‘55 by The Eagles (written by Tom Waits)

3150

While reading another blog, I came across the web site detailing casualties from the war on Iraq. The numbers:

• US fatalities: 3150
• US wounded: 23,417

Ohio gave their “fair share” of young people losing 138, while West Virginia gave 18 of their finest sons and daughters. You can find your state here.

And the slaughter of Iraqi people also continues. Daily.

When does the killing stop? Let’s bring our troops home and now!

Meanwhile television keeps gushing forth on Anna Whatever.

The Pride of West Virginia

I grew up in West Virginia, living in Wellsburg for the first ten years of my life. Then my family decided to move to “the big city”, moving across the Ohio River to Steubenville, Ohio. Like many natives of The Mountain State, no matter where we now live, it is still home.

My undergraduate degree, a BA in Political Science was from the University of Cincinnati, a terrible place to go to college. I went to West Virginia University for graduate school, where the tuition for West Virginia residents in 1975 was the huge sum of $200. I thoroughly enjoyed my time at WVU, living in a trailer in Morgantown, West Virginia, where I received excellent training, a great education, and an MA in Counseling and Guidance. When I graduated, my father proudly reminded me that I was the first in my family to graduate from WVU, although my father, his brothers, my sister, and others had attended there for some time.

I am a proud alumnus of WVU, supporting the University through donations and my activity in the Cincinnati-Dayton Chapter of WVU Alumni Association. My father taught me the WVU Fight Song was I was about 4 years old, and we’ve sung it at many a basketball and football game.

They call the WVU Marching Band “The Pride of West Virginia” and they are truly an outfit to make the good people of the state proud. Take a look at the video to watch their traditional playing of “Country Roads.” For many, it brings a proud tear to our eyes.

 

Let’s Goooooooooo Mountaineers

World War II Memoirs (Part I)

Several years ago, after hearing a story on NPR about World War II veterans, I asked my father to record his memories and experiences serving the in US Army during World War II. What he wrote was quite different than the stories we read in the history books, coming from someone who lived and served our country during that important time.

That story on NPR reminded me of the urgency and importance of my fathers memoirs. Over 1200 World War II veterans die each day, many leaving their story untold. I am blessed that my father was able to write the words you read below. Many veterans, my father included, rarely talked about the war.

Dec. 7th, 1941 the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. I was in Zanesville, Oh on that day looking for a job on a construction project. Low and behold, I never stuck around long enough to find-out if I had been accepted. The reason, because the next day, Dec. 8th war was declared on Japan and Germany. Happen to be on my 21st birthday and looking great for military duty.

I enlisted in the Signal Corp. reserves on Sept. 16th, 1942. Six months schooling for radio repair at a pay rate of $1050.00 per month. Believe me, that was big money to pay my expenses. Three months schooling was at Wheeling High School. We graduated from that point and advanced to three months training at WV Tech at Montgomery, WV. Still learning how to make and repair radios, problems etc. That was a enjoyable stay, made many friends, but now that we knew it all, we were called to active duty Feb. 26, 1942. Pay reduced to $50.00 per month.

We were shipped, by troop train, to Camp Crowder, MO for six months basic training. In and out of the hospital several times for skin infections. So be it, I had to start my basic training all over again. So really, I think I had 8 months basic. Nardy Lipscher was with us up to this point. However, since he played several instruments was able to tied in with the local army band. I approached him one evening at the USO and let him know that I had received my helmet and blankets for overseas duty. I then was off again on the troop train to Camp Shanango near Youngstown, OH. This was a replacement center where ,I believe, we stayed for a couple of weeks. Was able to visit home a couple times during this period. Shortly thereafter, aboard the troop train for Pittsburg, Calif., replacement depot awaiting ship for overseas. Departed Sept. 7, 1943 for the 18 days boat ride.

Arrived in Noumea, New Caledonia on Sept. 25, 1943. Off to another replacement depot and then assigned to the 230th Signal Operation Co. APO #502. Now I’m assigned a new position as a radio teletype operater. Work 8 hr. swinging shifts, co. duty one day a week and off one day a week. This was a great location, weather super, camp directly across from a beuatiful beach which I frequented often. Camp well set up with all facilities, exchange with cigarettes .50c carton. We often when into Noumea for the day as it was only a few miles away. This was my experience for the next 13 months.

In Memory of My Father

One year ago today, December 5, 2005, Sanford Watzman, my father died just three days short of his 85th birthday. He was an active man, who loved his golf and his cards, took good care of my mother, and us three children. For most of his working life, he owned a men’s clothing store called Watzman’s Mens Fashions in Wellsburg, West Virginia, where he was well known and liked in this northern West Virginia community. He knew most of the people who walked through his doors, and during the years I worked there with him, certainly taught me a thing or two about the right way to treat people.

My Dad grew up in Warwood, West Virginia, just north of Wheeling, the middle of three boys born to his Russian immigrant parents, Max and Yetta Watzman. He served in the US Army Signal Corps in the Pacific during World War II, apparently enlisting soon after his 21st birthday, which was the day after the attack on Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941.

My father actively supported the creation of the National World War II Memorial in Washington, DC. It was a highlight of his life to be in Washington for the Dedication on May 29, 2004. I was privileged to travel with him and my mother and watch him and thousands of other World War II veterans finally receive the applause of a nation for a job well done.

The pictures below highlight that journey.

 

 

Back in September of 2004, my father sat down at the computer and wrote a few pages of memoirs about his service during World War II. His story, like those of many other veterans, supplements much of the story we read in our history books. It is truly more personal, seen through the eyes actually there, rather than through the words of our historians.

Over the next few days, I shall post excerpts from that story, written in his unedited words. I’d like to close this post, written with his fond memory in mind, with the last paragraph from his story.

With all my army travels and experiences I was awarded the following ribbons: 5 battle stars, 2 invasions, army of occupation, good conduct medal, sharp shooting medal. Not bad for a little West Virginia boy.

Sanford Watzman T/SGT.
230th Signal Operations Co.
APO #502
San Francisco, Calif.

 

Not bad at all, Dad!

 

Life Is Old There

A lot of my father’s side of the family is from West Virginia. Both my Grandfather and Grandmother immigrated from Russia in the 1920’s. They didn’t talk about it much to my father, so that part of my history is unavailable, but he suspected they landed in the US in Baltimore. They must have wandered westward from Baltimore, thus settling in West Virginia.

Both my mother and father were raised in Wheeling, West Virginia, and I had aunts and uncles in Charleston, Beckley, and other towns in the region. I grew up for the first ten years in Wellsburg, living in the country a few miles from town. Our street was fairly new, with lots of building going on. New houses were great places to play when we didn’t get kicked out by the construction people. The street had only one entrance from Washington Pike and we knew everyone. And there were the times when I got into trouble up the street and my Mom knew about it well before I arrived at home.

Wellsburg, like many towns in the “Steel Valley”, was booming in those years. The steel mills were working, as were the coal mines. People had all kinds of money and were comfortable spending it. My father had a men’s clothing store at 709 Charles Street, called Watzman’s, where he did quite well in supporting all of us. Business was good, and the fact that my father knew just about everyone in the town helped significantly. Seemed like everyone knew Sandy, and when you needed a suit for a wedding or funeral, that’s where you went.

I worked in the store for my father all through high school, summers in college, and after I graduated. I learned a lot working with my father, especially about the value of treating people honestly and with a smile. He taught and expected good customer service, which, in my opinion is something we don’t see much of today.

Those times are gone for the Steel Valley. The days of the busy Saturday morning streets and the small retail establishments are seemingly forever ended, replaced by the large chain and shopping mall with indifferent service. Last Friday when I passed through downtown Wellsburg, the streets were empty, as were most of the storefronts. Watzman’s is now a carpentry shop and many other shops boarded shut. The town was quiet and empty. Many of the business people like my father, have passed on, their good works, community spirit, and energy only a memory in those of us able to recall.

Country Roads, Take Me Home

This week, on my way home, family business took me to Wheeling, West Virginia. Wheeling is an old town, nestled in the Ohio River Valley along National Road, the old stage coach route from the east. Both my parents are from Wheeling, and, as a child I often spent weekends visiting my grandparents there.

Unfortunately, Wheeling, like the rest of the Ohio Valley has fallen on hard times. Steel and coal, the major industries of the area, are in steep decline. As a child, downtown Wheeling, was alive, vital, and thriving with people doing business in the many stores on Market and Main streets. Driving through town yesterday, the downtown was empty and sad. There were few stores open, little traffic, and few people walking the sidewalks.

After a short meeting, I took the country roads home to my Mom’s house in Steubenville, Ohio, another Valley town about 20 miles up river. When I was a kid we drove these hilly, winding roads from Wellsburg to Wheeling to see family. Although it had been years since I’d driven these roads, finding my way seemed almost automatic. When I let go of my need to hurry, I just let my “memory” take over, recalling all their names. GC & P Road (what does that name mean?), Cherry Hill Road, Route 88 to West Liberty and Bethany, Short Creek Road.

As I wound down out of the hills on Short Creek Road, the sun shining through the clouds, a wide creek to the right, lots of empty land, and past an abandoned coal mine, it struck me how much this all felt like home. How comfortable I felt being among the hills and small towns of West Virginia. Back in the place of my roots.

The Middle of Football Season

It’s the middle of football season and I’ve yet to make a comment about my favorite teams. The West Virginia University Mountaineers are faring quite well. Undefeated this season and rated as high as #3 in some of the polls. And of course, growing up near Pittsburgh, my blood runs black and gold for the Pittsburgh Steelers. Or The Stillers as they’re known around The ‘Burgh.

• There’s a rapper out of Morgantown, WV called 6′6 240 who has put together a rap called The Gold and the Blue. Have fun with this one!
• Where does a Steelers fan go to watch the Black and Gold play in the heart of Cincinnati Bengals country? There just happens to be a place called Martino’s on Vine that is packed with people wearing Steelers colors for every game. The food is much better than your average bar food and they have IC Lite on Tap and Iron City in the aluminum “bottle”.

On a bittersweet note, my father died last December. The last time I was with him we were watching the Steelers play the Bengals last November. I left Steubenville at half-time to return to Cincinnati.

I miss talking to him on the phone about how our favorite teams fared from week to week. He was always going on about how “the Mountaineers could never win The Big One”. I held his memory close last New Year’s as The Mountaineers beat Georgia in the Sugar Bowl and then, weeks later, the Steelers won the Super Bowl.

I miss you, Dad!