PEA RIDGE — Editor’s note: Culea Abraham, a 2008 graduate of Pea Ridge High School, is a senior at College of the Ozarks in Point Lookout, Mo. She is the daughter of Russ and Lisa Abraham of Pea Ridge.
She traveled to World War II sites in Europe as one of 20 CofO students with 10 American World War II veterans to learn more about patriotism.
Quentin Allen. Helen Snapp. Charlie Mann.
Just three names to most of you reading this, but to me, these are three of the bravest, most courageous, most loyal people I have ever met.
Quentin Allen, a World War II pilot, is a very tall, broad man. The first time I met him he was wearing a dark blue hat, a black coat and grayish slacks. He had a look about him that made me believe that he was a stern, grumpy old man, but as I began to get to know him he quickly became one of my favorite people. He was funny, sarcastic and truly a hero in every sense of the word.
Next, I met Helen Snapp. Even in her mid-80s, she is a wonderfully beautiful woman. Her once sleek, black hair now may be white, but her memories of the days in which she would drag targets for practicing soldiers before they were to go overseas and defeat the NAZI troops is still as sharp as a tack.
Her stories are more horrifying than any of your worst nightmares, but she tells them as, well, the only word I know of to use to describe it is, as a courageous hero.
Charlie Mann was my favorite of these three wonderful people. His short stature and rounded belly brought a smile to my face when I first saw him. My smile only grew larger when I realized that I would be spending the rest of the trip helping him. Charlie, a Canadian by blood, became an honorary American through his fierce courage on the battlefield throughout Italy and France alongside American comrades.
These three fearless soldiers all fought for our continued freedom during World War II. They fought hard and they fought well in some of the most commonly forgotten battles in Italy and along the North African coastline. Many of their comrades fell and were buried overseas.
Through a series of very fortunate events, 20 college students (including me), and 10 World War II veterans (including the three previously mentioned veterans), were chosen to take an amazing journey back to those places where these men fought and where their friends are laid for eternity.
We traveled to many places in two weeks. We saw the monument at Kasserine Pass, we stood on the shores of Anzio beach, and we visited the grave markers of the Florence Cemetery. We saw the Kehlsteinhaus Hitler was given for his birthday, we visited the last concentration camp freed in Austria - the Mauthausen-Guten concentration camp - and we stood outside the Nuremberg courthouse where the Nazi leaders were given their punishments. Throughout the two weeks we journeyed European cities, battlefields, cemeteries and tourist attractions, we were certain to come back to the states and our home towns with many interesting and entertaining stories.
To really truly tell the tale of this amazing foreign adventure would take more than one article to tell of the wonderful things I saw and experienced. Following, is the story in segments starting with what we saw first when we toured Germany while we waited for our connecting flight into North Africa.
The Rhine River
FRANKFORT, Germany - Germany is a lovely country. In early May, the rain has made it very green and the land is lush and gorgeous.
When we first arrived, we had a nine-hour layover in the Frankfort Airport, so to keep us from getting too bored, Tim Davis, the founder of Greatest Generation Foundation, arranged a tour of the Rhine River to entertain us. Twenty college students settled in amongst 10 World War II veterans to begin the process of getting to know them. Many of us asked questions we thought would help us relate to them as if they were our own grandfathers and grandmothers. We asked things like, “How long have you been married?” and “How many grandchildren do you have?”
Soon, however, knowing what would soon come on our patriotic journey, the topics of conversation turned toward less happy scenarios and to more solemn words being spoken.
On this boat was when I first began to get to know Charlie Mann. I was his charge. My main point in being there was to help him carry his bags, hold his hand when the sights of years before haunted his vision, and to assist him if he had trouble walking. He only had one bag and it was on wheels and he knew what had happened back then and dealt with it before coming so the second wasn’t much a need either. But Charlie has had trouble lately with his calf muscle, so he would often need help when ascending (and descending) stairs or walking longer distances.
Charlie and his buddy, Jack, were both in the First Special Service Forces. Jack said that this was the first, and he believed it to be the last, joint American and Canadian unit in history.
They told us many stories.
One story they shared had to do with the villages throughout Italy that they encountered. Some villages had no plumbing and they had to march through sewage. I will always remember the look on Charlie’s face when he told us that during a time of battle like that, people who live in the country around suffer the most.
Another story they told us on this journey down the Rhine River was of how snipers were everywhere.
Charlie said that once they came into this village and the people came to greet them. Then there was a fatal shot to one of their comrades, all the villagers disappeared inside. He saidthat he and his unit chased down the sniper and killed him, but when they came back, their fallen comrade’s body was missing. The FSSF searched inside the church and their they found that the villagers had taken the body of the fallen comrade and cleaned him up and put rose pedals around his body to honor him and show their appreciation for the Allies.
This was all in the very first day of our journey.
There was a lot more that would happen, and a lot more I would learn.
There were still more laughs to be had and more tears to be cried. There were even more sicknesses that would be caught and more friends to be made along the way.
Kasserine Surprises
KASSERINE, Tunisia, N. Africa - We arrived at Tunisia a few short hours before we were to be on our way to the cemetery. It is the only American cemetery in Africa. In fact, there is even a Medal of Honor winner buried there.
It was a very surreal, but beautiful place. We had a small ceremony and also visited the American Embassy in Tunisia later that evening.
The next day, however, was what we were all excited about. We were to travel to Kasserine to see the monument there and pay homage to those who lost their lives in that battle. We arrived late in the afternoon after a semi- late start.
As we ate our sandwiches, we looked out along the valley, all of us students imagining the bloody battle that had taken place there 65 years before. I began to imagine how it must have felt for these men and women all those years before. They would have been my age and even a little younger when they saw battle.
As I was thinking about that and picturing myself in a uniform, I realized Tim, our group’s leader was doing something behind me. I turned around to see something flying overhead that was somewhat familiar.
It was quite pale, but you could tell that one day long ago those colors had shownbright. Tim explained to us that this flag was a 48-star flag. This flag had the same number of stars of any flown over America during the war. It was such a beautiful sight to see. Every single eye had a tear called to it as one of our college students prayed and another led us all in the “Star Spangled Banner” while we looked upon it.
After a few of the veterans spoke about what they did and who they lost in this epic battle, Tim had another surprise in store for us. We looked around and saw many weeds gathered in the areaaround the monument that made it look a little less inviting and a little more abandoned than we had anticipated. So, since our muscles are so young and strong, Tim suggested that we pull the weeds. It was a beautiful, sunny day and we had nothing more to do, so, all of us students bent over and began pulling as many weeds as we could and throwing them out as far as we could away from the monument. Despite how much work it may sound like, it was certainly the most fun working any of us had ever had.
Yet another surprise awaited us on the tour bus for our return trip home.
We had brought out with us just a few of the men from the American Embassy. It was a long ride back to the capital of Tunisia. So, for entertainment on our way back, they sang the different songs from each of the branches of the military.
They also sang to us quite a few songs that the soldiers used to sing while marching between battles. This was fun and interesting and many of us picked up on the words and sang along.
Some of these songs were sad. Others were meant to bring a smile to your face even in the worst of days.
One last surprise happened to me before we left Africa to head up the Italian cost. A few of the other students and I decided to take one last trip down to the Mediterranean Sea behind our hotel before we left. We found a few boats, but weren’t able to takethem out for a sail, unfortunately. We played along the beach, gathering sea shells and doing flips and tag and other games. As we began to head back up the boardwalk to the hotel for bedtime, one of my dearest friends picked me up, flung me over his shoulder, marched back down to thewater, and dunked me into the salty seawater.
“Now you’ve been swimming in the Mediterranean Sea,” he said with a wide grin on his face. It wasn’t something I wanted to do, but it is definitely something I will remember forever.
SAN PIETRO, Italy - On top of a hill just south of the great city of Rome in Italy sat a little village. The people here led normal, daily lives, not aware of the battles coming up the chain of hills straight for them.
When the German forces reached their village, bombs blasted all of the buildings in their small village, killing many people and sending the rest of the villagers into hiding among the caves on the hillside.
The village of San Pietro was destroyed by the German forces.
The Allies were close on their heels.
Soon, the 36th Texas Division of the U.S. Army was on the move, climbing up the hill to defeat the German Army and force them out of the once-quaint little village. After the Germans were removed, peace was restored to the village and the people came out of hiding. They did not know how to show their great gratitude to the 36th Texas Division, nor did they know how to repay them.
The relationship between the villagers of San Pietro and the men of the 36th Texas Division of the U.S.
Army would never cease, even after most of the men of that unit were long retired and over 90 percent of the villagers had enjoyed a long and peaceful life.
Still, semi-annually, the 36th Texas Division of the U.S. Army makes a trip to the small village of San Pietro to honor the men and women who died in this village.
The town is no longer on top of the hill. The people moved to a lower, safer location at the base of thehill. But, in honor of all that died, there is a museum of the battle that happened on this tiny hill. This is where we sat out for to continue our journey when we, regretfully, left Tunisia.
What happened here on that day, May 15, 2010, was something I will never forget as long as I live.
There was a bit of a chill in the air as we started on our way to the hill. The light rain that had began the day before when arrived in Italy continued, but it was more of a drizzle than anything. All of the college students on our trip were well informed of the place we were going on this not so lovely day, but what we were to encounter when we got there, none ofus could have guessed.
When we finally arrived at San Pietro, there was quite a distance we had to walk because the corner was too sharp and the hill too steep for our tour bus to make it up. It was time to walk so we all held ourveterans’ arms and began the long ascension up the hill. About half way up, my veteran, Charlie Mann, saw something that drew his attention, and that of the other two men who had been in the same unit as he. It was a German anti-aircraft gun. The directions on how to use it were in German.
We couldn’t understand them, but those three men who had seen these same guns storming up another hill 65 years before knew exactly how it worked.
They pointed out where the bullets were inserted into the gun, how to shoot the gun and how to aim it.
It was amazing to me how much they knew so much about an enemy gun. They told all of us how it was important for our military to have accurate knowledge of the enemies’ weaponsduring a time of war so that they knew what we were up against.
Continuing on our journey up the hill, we came into a light fog that made it hard to see any of the other hills around us. To greet us at the top of the hill were two men. One had a sash with the colors of Italy’s flag on it and he was wearing a suit. We soon learned he was the mayor of San Pietro. The second man - an older gentleman - wore a long gray overcoat and had on a hat. It wasn’t until later that we learned his significance. As we came up the hill, he identified the First Special Service Forces men by the coats they were wearing. Immediately he went to them to thank them for all that they did. While we were there, he continually was standing withthem or as close to any of them that he could.
We went into the little museum. It was a very neat little place with the story of San Pietro from its founding all the way to the day that the German forces overtook the city. At the end, there was a movie for us to view. It had some parts in English with Italian subtitles and the other part was in Italian with Englishsubtitles. It showed actual scenes of life in the village before and after the battle.
One scene it showed was of a woman. She was not much older than the college students in the room, but she looked a lot more haggard and tired than any of us had ever looked.
She was beating a blanket to try and get the dirt off ofit. When we saw this scene, the mayor, who had been watching from the corner nearest the screen began pointing and saying, “mi madre, mi madre,” which we soon figured out what he meant. The woman in the picture was his mother.
After a while, we realized that we were waiting for something to happen.
The college students were quite sure what it was, but we had an idea that it was something very important.
The mayor finally gave us a small speech. He told us that today was the day they were expecting the 36th Texas Division of the U.S.
Army to come and visit them and that when they arrived with their color guard, we would have a small ceremony outside. He also told us that the man in the gray overcoat whom we had noticed when we first got here and who hadn’t left the sides of the FSSF men was one of the villagers who had hidden in the caves along the hillside. He was 5 years old when the village had been attacked.
He thanked us for coming and offered to serve us lunch at the bottom of thehill when we had finished the ceremony.
While I was standing there, a photographer from the village arrived and began pointing at the name tag that all of us in our group had hanging around our necks. These were like our VIP passes for some of the events that we attended. He asked me what it was. It was only through the help of the translator who was there that I figured this was what he wanted to know. I had the translator to explain to the photographer that it was a name tag. I showed him that on one side it said the name of our school, College of the Ozarks. On the other side I pointed out that it had the name of the foundation that we had come through, the Greatest Generation Foundation.
After this had all been explained to the photographer, he signaled to me that he wanted me to follow him. We went outside and he asked me to remove my name tag then hold it up and he took pictures of both sides of it.
Not too long after this incident, the 36th Texas Division color guard arrived and the rain had pretty much cleared off so we went outside and held a small ceremony. As Americans, our group said the Pledge of Allegiance once the color guard had presented the colors. Then, two of the college students laid a wreath, along with the three men from the FSSF. After this wreath was laid, the 36th Texas Division laid a wreath, and lastly the mayor laid a wreath.
All of these wreaths were laid at the base of a wall that stood outside with the names of all those who fell in the battle of San Pietro.
Then I noticed Charlie and the other two men from the FSSF were pointing at one of the other hills near San Pietro. I asked them what was going on and Charlie said they believed that hill was La Defensa, the hill that Jack, one of the other FSSF men on our trip, had climbed and had his helmet kicked off on the way up. This hill was supposedly unconquerable once the Germans had a hold on the top. However, when the FSSF got there, they had men in on one side of the hill firing upward to distract the Germans (this included Charlie), and on the other side of the hill they sent men climbing up in the dark of night to overtake the German troops in the morning (this included Jack). The unconquerable hill was taken in two days by the FSSF when everyone else who had tried had failed.
San Pietro was one of my favorite places we visited during our trip. I learned more at this one place about the Second World War than I had ever learned in all of the classes I had ever attended in all my life.
I’ve watched movies such as “Saving Private Ryan” and “Band of Brothers.” I’ve learned about the Battle of the Bulge and Market Garden and the storming ofNormandy in classes. Italy is never something people really talked about. It’s just something teachers mentioned as they explained the war. But to thesepeople, to the mayor of San Pietro and to the man who had been 5 when his village had been stormed, the battles throughout Italy were real. From that day on when someone mentionsor talks about World War II, I no longer think of Normandy or Market Garden. I think of Italy.
TO BE CONTINUED
Community, Pages 14 on 01/26/2011