The Greatest Generation

Richard "Dick" Winters, the commander of Easy Company whose World War II exploits were portrayed in the "Band of Brothers" book and HBO series, died last month at the age of 92. Ed Mauser, until he also died last month at the age of 94, was the oldest surviving member of the group. Now, very few are still alive.
 
In Paris
When I heard about these two gentlemen passing, I started thinking again about my wife's father, also a WWII veteran. Unfortunately, he passed away before I even starting dating his daughter so I never met him. Some years later when my wife's mom passed away, while going through the household possessions, my wife and her sister showed me some of their father's Army keepsakes and things he brought back from the war against Germany. I don't think they had any idea what it really was or what their father had been a part of - uniform patches, medals, pictures, war trophy's, a pistol - all in several little boxes. The first patch I pulled from the first box was a shoulder patch, a cloth red numeral 1 - "The Big Red One"  was the First Infantry Division, also known as "The Fighting First" and was one of the most famous and decorated divisions of WWII. They fought across Africa, from Algiers into Tunisia, moved on to take Sicily and then stormed Omaha Beach on D-Day, fought in the Battle of the Bulge, and eventually attacked and penetrated the Siegfried line and were in Germany when the war ended.

The recent dead.
When I looked at the pictures, I was shocked to find concentration camp pictures he had taken. Unfortunately, the pictures were damaged, probably from just laying in cardboard boxes in the attic or in the back of a closet for years and years, but you could still make them out. And on the back, written in pencil in my deceased father-in-law Raymond's handwritting, were stories. In just a few words, written in a matter-of-fact, almost dispassionite manner, he told of survival and death, atrocities committed and the ability of people to turn a blind eye, to deny the horror happening right under their noses. From the writing on the back of those pictures and additional research I've done, I've managed to piece together a bit of the history.

200 bodies were laid out for the 
townspeople to see.
The Wobbelin camp, near the city of Ludwigslust, was a subcamp of the Neuengamme concentration camp. The SS had established Wobbelin in early February 1945, to house concentration camp prisoners whom the SS had evacuated from other camps to prevent their liberation by the Allies. At its height, Wobbelin held some 5,000 inmates, many of whom were suffering from starvation and disease.

Bodies to be buried on the palace grounds.
There was little food or water, and some prisoners had resorted to cannibalism. When the Army units arrived there, they found about 1,000 inmates dead in the camp. Just a short distance from the camp, downwind from the stench of the dead and within hearing distance of the screams of the tortured, the inhabitants of the town of Ludwigslust claimed they did not know what was happening in the camp. Upon hearing this, the U.S. Army ordered the townspeople to visit the camp and bury the dead on the palace grounds of the Archduke of Mecklenburg.

The townspeople forced to see the bodies.
On May 7, 1945, the 82nd Airborne Division conducted funeral services for 200 inmates in the town of Ludwigslust. Attending the ceremony were citizens of Ludwigslust, captured German officers, and several hundred members of the airborne division. The U.S. Army chaplain at the service delivered a eulogy stating that:

The crimes here committed in the name of the German people and by their acquiescence were minor compared to those to be found in concentration camps elsewhere in Germany. Here, there were no gas chambers, no crematoria; these men of Holland, Russia, Poland, Czechoslovakia, and France were simply allowed to starve to death. Within four miles of your comfortable homes, 4,000 men were forced to live like animals, deprived even of the food you would give to your dogs. In three weeks, 1,000 of these men were starved to death; 800 of them were buried in pits in the nearby woods. These 200 who lie before us in these graves were found piled four and five high in one building and lying with the sick and dying in other buildings.

May 7, 1945
On May 8, 1945, Germany surrendered. The war in Europe was over. Shortly afterwards, Raymond Hiser found himself in Berlin. And then he came home, got a job, married a woman he met in England, brought her to America and together they raised a family and led a good, but mostly anonamous middle-class life in a suburb. Like a lot of soldiers who saw things people shouldn't see and did things good people shouldn't have to do, he didn't talk about it; he never told his children about that part of his life, never "bragged" about taking part in liberating one of those German hell-holes. He was one of thousands upon thousands of "The Greatest Generation" who simply did what they had to do to defend our country and never asked for anything in return.
Wife's father 3rd from right.

Postcard From Village Creek State Park

Arkansas is known for its outdoor beauty and there are many state parks which help capture this treasure for everyone to enjoy. Located in the northeastern part of the state off Highway 284, Village Creek State Park, with 6,909 acres, is Arkansas' second largest state park.  It is covered with a a dense mixed hardwood forest including oak, hickory, and uncommon hardwood trees such as American Beech, Sugar Maple, Butternut, Basswood, Cucumbertree, Kentucky Coffeetree, and the Tuliptree or Yellow Poplar. 

Lake Austell and Lake Dunn are contained within the park and if you are into fishing, you can catch your supper of bass, bream, catfish, and crappie. The park campground includes 24 RV sites, 5 tent sites and 67 sites for horse campers around Lake Dunn. There are also 10 fully-equipped cabins with kitchens and wood-burning fireplaces.
A section of the 1820s Military Road that once linked Memphis, Tennessee to Little Rock is still visible in the park. A section of the infamous "Trail of Tears," it was a major route of Indian removal for Creek, Chickasaw, and Cherokee between 1832 and 1839.

Nice wooden bridge over a deep gulley.
To be honest, I didn't know about this park before I decided to take a quick road trip to see what was left of Twist, Arkansas. But with it being located a little south of Twist and not that far out of the way when going back home, a side trip was in order when I saw it on a map. Most state parks have hiking trails, but without having time to research this one, I just took a chance on it. I was pleasantly surprised to find it has 5 trails ranging in difficulty from Easy to Moderate and from 1/4 mile to almost 3 miles in length. We decided to take Austell Trail, a 2 1/4 mile (round-trip) Moderate trail. The trail was pretty well marked, not very hard to walk and even had a few places where steps were made from railroad ties and a couple of wooden bridges which spanned deep creek gulley's.  It earned it's Moderate rating from the steep climbs up hills and over ridges. There were plenty of ups and downs so it seemed to be uphill both going and coming back!

Plenty of very steep sections - the wife "up" ahead.
The weather was great and it made for a good family outing even if the youngest daughter did moan and complain about the difficulty for most of the hike. Like that's a problem for me. You're 12-years-old for goodness sake, suck it up, kiddo. And if spending time with your parents hiking around in the great outdoors doesn't result in fond memories in your adult life, well, take your $100 of inheritance I'm leaving you, hire a therapist and tell him all about it. The big hug and "I love you" I received that night when it was bed-time though tells me she might not be needing that therapist...at least not because of today.
 
Lake Austell at the end of the trail.

Twist, B.B. King, & Lucille

On State Highway 42 in the Delta region of far northeast Arkansas is an almost deserted little town named Twist. As unlikely as it sounds, a little known incident in Twist led to a name all blues fans know.

One night in the mid-1950s, B.B. King, was performing at a club in Twist, Arkansas when two men got into a fight over a woman named Lucille and knocked over a kerosene stove. A fire resulted and in his haste to escape, King left his guitar inside the burning building. Not having money to replace it, he ran back inside to retrieve it and narrowly escaped death. From then on, as a reminder to never do such a foolhardy thing again and to never get into a fight over a woman, he has named all of his guitars Lucille. When he was 82-years-old, King said, “About 15 times a lady has said, ‘It’s either me or Lucille.’ And that’s why I’ve had 15 children by 15 different women.”

I'm not a huge fan of the blues, but I certainly know of B. B. King, have listened to his songs and have heard of his guitars named Lucille. When I saw an interview with him and he told the story of what happened in Twist, I decided to go see Twist for myself. Normally I make these little adventures by myself or sometimes with a male friend for company, but this time and much to my surprise, my wife and youngest daughter agreed to go with me and we made it a family outing. Heck, we even took along Riley the Wonder Dog.

Twist is about 2 1/2 hours by twisty back roads from my home. It's not that long if you take the interstate, but unless forced  by circumstances beyond my control, interstates are not for me. From Wooster, we passed through such bustling suburbs as Rose Bud, Bald Knob, Hickory Ridge, Cold Water, BirdEye, and Cherry Valley before arriving in Twist.

We arrived in Twist on a Saturday afternoon at 1:30 to find that except for two old dogs, the town was deserted. To call Twist a "town" is extremely optimistic. We saw not another car on the little 2-lane road during the last 15 minutes of driving there and never saw a another person in the 30 minutes we were there.


The Twist guard dog.
Even the two dogs were bored with the pace of life there. One of them laying beside the road gave one little bark when I pulled up within 10 feet of him and his buddy, but when I got out of the car with my camera, he decided I wasn't worth the effort and never moved from his comfy spot in the shade of a fence post. His buddy, perhaps a little more bored with being bored, got up and ambled across the street toward me. He barked a few times and then when I ignored him, he slowly angled away until laying down again in the side yard of one of the few houses that looked like someone might actually live there.

Sleepy town of Twist
Unfortunately the club where it all happened is apparently long gone as I could find no traces of it nor any resident old-timer to ask. I drove through town, but not a creature was stirring and when I came back through and stopped to take a few more pictures, even the lone watch-dog that was on the job just laid there in the grass, one eye open, watching me for a few seconds before ignoring me completely.

I guess Twist used to be a lot more than it is today, just another faded relic of times gone by with an interesting story to tell that begins with, "At one time..."