Above and Beyond
High Flight
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunwards I’ve climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds – and done a thousand things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hovering there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air,
Up, up the long delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,
Where never lark, or even eagle, flew;
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of god.
Pilot Officer Gillespie Magee
No 412 squadron, RCAF
Killed 11 December 1941
Ringling Biplane
The photos of this uniquely detailed biplane, were taken on the lawn of the Charles Ringling home on 8th Street in Baraboo (the yellow house). Undoubtedly, it was constructed by one of the Ringling family. We are attempting to determine the provonance of the image. Please contact us if you know anything about this aeroplane.
Sally Ringling Collection SCHS
Sally Ringling Collection SCHS
Sally Ringling Collection SCHS
Click the image to read the Above & Beyond story.
Gavin Kowalke
"...So, we’re heading on back and we got an engine knocked out too. So we’re flying on three [engines]. So Bucket decided not to stop at Iwo Jima..."
George Schlieckau
"...Schlieckau owned the first airplane in Sank County and owned eight different planes during his lifetime..."
Cecil Hess
"...Cecil Hess was one of the early barnstorming stunt flyers, performing at many southwestern Wisconsin fairs..."
Nels J. Nelson
..."On Tuesday, Aviator Nelson gave Baraboo their first exhibition of a flying machine..."
Mae Rox
"...when a flying circus was hired to entertain the Reedsburg community for the 4 of July celebration in 1930, one of the prime attractions was a parachute jump..."
"Joshua (Josh) Sanford was the only Native American to fly as a pilot and flight commander with the famous Flying Tigers of World War II..."
Otto Baumgarten
"...As well-trained and disciplined as was the crew of the Empire Express, and as well as each man knew his job, they were not prepared for what happened on May 7, 1945 over Kyushu, Japan..."
Don Rodewald
"...Rodewald’s Korea experience featured frequent contact with the Russian MIG plane piloted by North Korean or Chinese pilots..."
Don T. St Hilaire
"...The second man pulled his chute too soon and the chute dropped behind him on the plane floor, and I kicked it out for him..."
Wilbur Cooper Magli
"The first person to own an airplane in the township of Sumpter was Wilbur Cooper Magli..."
Earl E. Bowe
"Earl E. Bowe was struck by an aeroplane propeller Sunday afternoon just before four o’clock as he was getting out of the cockpit to the ground after taking a ride..."
Barnstorming was a popular form of entertainment in the US in the 1920s, in which stunt pilots would perform tricks with airplanes, either individually or in groups called a flying circus. Barnstorming was the first major form of civil aviation in the history of flight.
The term barnstormer was also applied to pilots who flew throughout the country selling airplane rides, usually operating from a farmer’s field for a day or two before moving on. “Barnstorming season” ran from early spring until after the harvest and county fairs in the fall.
The term barnstorming comes from an earlier American tradition of rural political campaigns.
Garvin Kowalke
Garvin Kowalke
Well, being an independent individual, I stepped out the door and went to the next door and it was the enlistment center and I walked in there and I enlisted in the army air corps as a private. They sent me down to boot camp in New Orleans where I took exams where I wanted to go. I still wanted to get into the flying, which was my number one priority. He indicated that my mechanics was outstanding. So, he said he’d send me to Glendale, CA, to train as a crew chief on P38s. My wife and I, away we went.
That trip from New Orleans out to Glendale, CA, that was one of the experiences that stuck with me all throughout my life. We got on a troop train at 5 at night, the shades were pulled for security, and away we went. At about 5:30 in the morning, “OK, shades up,” and I pulled my shades up and the sun was just about ready to rise, and that was the picture I saw—we were just entering Arizona, and it was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen. I really loved the West—I loved Zane Gray books—I even made wooden pistils when I was a kid. Everything was a cowboy.
Interview with Garvin Kowalke August 18, 2005 By Peter Shrake & Bill Schuette
GK: I’m Garvin Kowalke, born here in North Freedom, WI, out on the farm, June 5, 1922. Born and raised there, and helped out on the farm.
WS: Where did you go to school?
GK: I went to a country school, right out there in Green Valley, which about a 3 mile walk, I should say run, because I usually did it that way. I went to school there up to my 8th grade, and then started high school in North Freedom. I spent one year as a freshman, now, I had an older brother and sister, but they were of that age group where I wasn’t involved with anything them. And I had a younger brother and sister and I was babysitting a lot. That was about my relationship with my little brother and sister.
We had our neighbor’s farm and he had a fire in the barn and it knocked him out so my dad bought the farm. We’re talking about 1935, and we were already getting involved in a cotton pickin’ war. My older brother left the farm and went to work with a construction company to get more money. When we started getting really serious over there and helping France, Spain and England—I mean with Hitler—then of course the draft went up, so my older brother, instead of working for construction and being drafted, why he came home and worked on the farm and he didn’t have to be drafted.
Now, at about the same time—now we’re getting up around the time when dad bought the farm, and I had to quit high school in order to help him out on the farm. So, that was the limit of my education at the time. When my brother came home then, and was working, I was looking for a better job, then came Pearl Harbor. Or I should say, then came my wife, and we were married in 1940, and we were there on the farm, then Pearl Harbor hit.
I had a real desire to be a pilot. Planes were flying over from the Dells, they came over the farm, and I just loved airplanes. For some reason, I said, I think I’ll go and be a pilot. So, I went to Madison and took the exam for pilot school. After I got through with the exam, there was a big master sergeant and he looked at my score and he said “I’ll see you in about a year.” I said “Huh?” Of course, being only a freshman, I didn’t even know what the word geometry meant. So, I completely failed the algebra, the mathematic part of that exam.
When we hit Glendale, CA, I started school as a P38 crew chief. The _____ and they were due to head for Africa in a year, and my assignment would be to go with them to Africa. While I was taking my training and learning to fix engines, and stuff like that, I had a buddy—and he was a college graduate—we were real buddies, and I said I had to retake that exam but I couldn’t get the math. He said, “I’ll take you through a math course.” So I spent that year working on the P38s, and every night he and I sat down and we went through the books and I studied math.
Then came December and I sent my wife back to Wisconsin—on the weekends, we’d see each other—as I was going to be headin’ to Africa. My buddy and I went out that night and saw the girls off to Wisconsin. Then we hung around there for quite a while, and by that time I was just about able to navigate, and I got back to the base and crawled into the sack. Well, unfortunately, or I should say fortunately, about 6 o’clock in the morning a trooper came in from headquarters [and he said] “Kowalke, you got to be at headquarters at 8 o’clock this morning to re-take your exam. The guys there, they pulled me out of the sack took me to the shower, cooled me off, and got me dressed and everything and at 8 o’clock I headed in there for the exam. My mental condition: I had no worries, nothing concerned me, I was able to concentrate, so I took the exam. I never went back to redo a question, I just went one, two, three, and I went through that exam in 3 hours, and that was a 4 hour exam. I took it back to the commander and gave it to him, and he said, “I don’t think I’ll see you in another year, you’re going to be in Africa.”
So he took the exam [I had just completed] and an hour later the runner comes up, “Hey, Kowalke, you got 95 on your exams, and in one week you’re heading for your camp for air cadets,” right there in Glendale. Well, that was the next step, and I went into pilot school and learned to be a pilot, on 3 bases in Calif. Then I ended up in Waco, TX, for my final exams in 02s, which was a twin engine, which was advanced, and came through with flying colors, and in July of ’43, hey, I’m a second lieutenant and I’m a pilot.
My next assignment then—I had my application for A20’s—I wanted that twin engine attack bomber, which was really a sharp outfit. When I graduated and came up for assignment, [I got] my second choice, which was training command. Being smart, I might as well put in a year or two getting some flying training under my britches before I get into combat, I really better know what I was doing. I went by the book and I’ve always preached that, what I had in my left hand was my Bible, what I had in my right hand was the book to run this cottin’ pickin’ operation. That was my whole position.
I ended up at San Antonio, TX, Randolph Air Force Base where I went through instructor’s school and then I became an instructor pilot in Waco, TX, in advanced flying. I spent almost a year there in Waco, and during that time period we had an air show back at Randolph, and I went back there and looked at all the airplanes and there she sat! They had a B29, and that was the most beautiful piece of machinery that I had ever seen, well, almost. I went through it and said, “This is it, I want to be a B29 pilot, I want to fly this girl”. So, when I got back to Waco, I put in my application to transfer.
I got it almost immediately. They sent me to Roswell, NM, to take my training secession, got me some B17 time and B29 time. The B29 was one of the most beautiful airplanes I have ever flown. It was brand new, just came out of the factory. It was firm, it was solid and just as stable as your kitchen table. I was then sent over to Kansas, Smoke Hill Army Air Force Base. There I’m assigned to a B29 crew and this is going to be for combat. Now, the B29 is an atomic weapons delivery system, and that was the training we were taking. In fact, we’d spend our weekends in the hanger going over a training secession with the atomic bomb itself. They had the models there and we’d go through everything about it, its mounting, the delivery system, how it’s all wired, everything. PS: So, when you started getting into the actual training for the B29, you started working with the bomb?
GK: Oh yes.
WS: What year was that?
GK: That would have been late 1943, early1944.
WS: So up to that point you had not flown combat.
GK: No, I had never flown combat. When we got to our training secession, they sent us out to the airfield at Las Vegas—there was 12 of us—and we went through—there were two types of bombs—for 10 days we went through orientation on that particular type of weapon. Then they split us up, six of us went to Guam and the others went to Tinian and Saipan. Our mission was fire bombs, and it would be night missions. I was assigned as co-pilot of the lead crew. [That was the airplane] Two Passes and Crap. He was the lead commander of the squadron. He had been flying B17s over Germany and had about 20 missions. He came from Canada, down into Kansas. Those were the missions we started to fly. We took off from Guam and hit targets in Japan, all the way from Nagasaki clean up to Hokkaido.
WS: Did you ever fly over Tokyo?
GK: They [another group] had been flying missions over Nantucket, coming up from the south, and we were still finishing out the training program. So, we didn’t get in with those guys, but we learned a lesson [from them]. But we didn’t pay any attention to it really. What I’m saying is that, we didn’t get our cotton’ pickin’ airplanes together soon enough to protect each other. They’d come up there and drop the bombs and they’d all be circling out there, spiraling around and WHAM, they’d dump on them and they’d [the zeros] catch ‘em.
Our first mission was up in Hokkaido, and that was the longest mission that a B29 had ever flown—it was over 20 hours. We came up and blasted out a big manufacturing plant, we burned that out. We [the other group] came up together within sight of each other, and then we’d make one circle, and when we made that circle, we’d join in formation and then hit the target. And after we hit the target, we’d split up and head for home. Iwo Jima had been secured and we were using that for emergency landing, have the aircraft fixed there and then go on back to the Marianas Islands. So, that was our first mission.
Our fifth mission, which was a dandy, and I think that was the only mission where a B29 had ever been looped. We came in to hit Tokyo, and we were about in the middle of the formations. The other formations had dropped their fire bombs out here and you keep dropping back this way. Well, when we came up to the target, the cloud from the bomb drops and the fire were already at 20,000 feet. We were flying at 11 and 12 thousand feet, just high enough to be above the ground fire, and low enough and fast enough so that the ground fire wouldn’t hit us. So there we are at 11.5 and as we came in on the target, getting ready to drop our bombs we got caught in the floodlights, all the searchlights down on the bottom, they caught us. That would mean that when they caught us, the [Japanese] fighters would come down the searchlight and hit us. And that’s what they were setting up. We were just about to drop the bombs, and they caught us. We hung tight, dropped the bombs. But the, instead of pulling out and headin’ home, he takes a look at that and the command pilot, he says, “Hey, we’re going to duck those guys.” So, he’s going to turn into the smoke that’s built up from the fire and then they can’t see him. So he did. And we got the wildest dam ride I’ve ever had in a bomber like that. Well, what happens, here’s this smoke rolling up like this. The air coming down to feed it is extremely, whoosh, like that, it’s just chuckin’ in. Well, that’s what we hit, that air that’s being sucked in. So down we go. I pulled back all I could to pull the nose back up, taken’ the power up, because we went to maximum speed and nose down. We got down to where you could see the flames and everything and now the wind was being built up from the fire and we hit that. We went right straight up and we went right on over, and we just kept her steady and came out 2,500 feet over Tokyo. We just hung loose there, and climbed out a little bit and headed right straight for Tokyo Bay to get the hell out of there. We made it. Our tail gunner was going to try to bail out, but he blacked out from the force, it knocked him out so he didn’t get to move. Since it was such a surprise to the Japanese gunners, we hardly got shot at. So, we made it back home.
WS: Was that the first time that a B29 did a flip, or were there others?
GK: No, that was the only time that I know of. The B57s, yah.
So, a few missions later then, on our 10th mission, we were on a day bombing flight and again over Tokyo, as we pulled in there, they threw everything at us that they could. We had P51s on Iwo Jima, and when we fly B29s over Iwo Jima going to the target they would take off and follow the B29s to use them as a navigator, and then when he’s in there doing his bombing work they’re down doing all their strafing. They were really cuttin’ the hell out of the Japanese shipping and anything that was on the ground, and they were doing a really good job of it.
Well, the commanding general, he was in the observation plane, and he was sitting up there about 20,000 feet watching over the whole thing. He gets hit by a Kamikaze and blew his engine up and they had to bail out. He bails out over Tokyo Bay. We’ve got a submarine that’s sitting in Tokyo Bay, taking pictures and observing everything and it’s our rescue sub in case there’s any damages like that. They’ll pick everything up like that. So the general hardly ever got wet. He’s down there and gets in the submarine, but the airplane was lost.
So, we’re heading on back and we got an engine knocked out too. So we’re flying on three [engines]. So Bucket decided not to stop at Iwo Jima. I can’t over judge him, but that was the wrong move. But anyway, we kept past Iwo and headin’ back to Guam and we get about 250 miles north of Guam, and we’ve already alerted the headquarter there that, hey, we’re on three, and all of a sudden, BINGO, number one starts to go out. That’s putting us on two. Buck kinda lost it then. He jammed those two throttles, we were descending towards the ocean, and he puts on the power like that and he pulls her up and she starts to shutter and roll and he’s just sittin’ there, and I took the airplane away from him and I pulled the power back, got her straightened out. I alerted the crew that we’re going to have to ditch this bugger. Oh, the other thing that caused this problem was that he was going to lighten the airplane, so he opens the bomb bay doors and dumps the fuel tanks. Well, the fuel tank weight wasn’t that much so there shouldn’t have been that big a problem. When he opened up the bomb bay doors, he couldn’t get one door shut. The bombardier couldn’t come back and check them right away. And we’re coming down that close to the ocean. So that’s why, when he jammed the throttles and it started rolling, I took over and set her up for ditching, picked me out a nice big wave, and sat her on top of it. That’s when she crapped out. Because the bomb bay doors were open, that made the airplane break in half, right at the edge of the bomb bay doors so the tail section sinks and the other section just sits there, because the wing tanks are open, just like an airbag.
I’m lookin’ at the ocean and the nose is under the water, and I’m looking there to go out so I slammed my window open and as the water rushed in I just swam out through it. I had my Mae West [life preserver] filled and on my dingy [life boat] was strapped to my belt and I was pulling that along with me.
As I’m swimming up like that, trying to get to the top of the ocean, I’m sayin’ that is one of the easiest ways to drown. If your lungs fill up, there’s no pain, no nothing, it just fills you up. As I’m getting to the top, I’m at that stage where, am I going to make it or not? And then, she calls me. I can see her, and she’s calling my name. And all of a sudden, I had all the strength in the world. And, off went my boots so that I didn’t have any weight and up I went. And, by golly, I made it out. And I got my Mae West and dingy inflated and got it all set, and as I’m doin’ that, and lookin’ around, say, here’s Buck Singer in the water. He doesn’t have a dingy, so I’m going to have to get him one, and I’m lookin’ around at the garbage, and yah, I found one and brought it back in and got it inflated, got him in it and tied it together, and then heard one of the kids hollerin’, one of the gunners, he was out there without a dingy, so we paddled to him and got him into the boat between us, so that would help keep him alive. The rest of the crew, we only lost the central gunner, and that was because his position was right where the bomb bay door broke open. The rest of them, they all got in their boats and got rescued.
WS: How many were on the plane?
GK: Twelve. When I say twelve, there was eleven in the whole crew, the squadron navigator, he was on the plane to get flying time and training time. I checked the crew that was my job to make sure they were all OK.
We were just paddling around looking, and as we turned, there was a body in the ocean and I paddled over to that and got ahold of it, and it was that squadron navigator. No dingy, and his Mae West was not even inflated, so he didn’t have a chance. So I checked his pulse, yeah, he was gone, so I removed his dog tags and put them in my pocket so they would go to his family, and then said the prayers and punctured the other dingy and punctured the Mae West, and buried him right there.
All those items like that that you talk about being with your veterans and what they all went through and who did that and where they did it, I’ve had to do it myself.
The next morning, about 8 o’clock in the morning, here comes a PBY, the flying boat, but the ocean was still rough, so he can’t land to help us. So, they dropped some supplies, and about 3 o’clock in the afternoon, here comes a destroyer escort, and they come in on us and picked us all up. And one of the things they had to do was, I heard a cannon go off, and I’m lookin’ out the window, and oh, yah, there’s the hulk sittin’ above the water and they had to smash it and sink it wouldn’t be a damage to any boating and shipping. So, then they got us all back to Guam.
Then, Buck Singer got terminated for not stopping at Iwo and endangering the aircraft.
So now we had a crew and we had to look for another airplane. We got talkin’ and the crew wanted to stick by me. So the Old Man says, “OK, you’re now an aircraft commander, and we’ll get you a co-pilot.” They got me a new airplane, got me a co-pilot.
They got me a plane named the Renegade, and I changed the name to City of Baraboo.
WS: Do you remember what the colors were on the logo?
GK: It was a real dark, dark blue, almost black, but mostly dark blue, only one color.
WS: So, what was your next adventure?
GK: Every one of our cotton’ pickin’ missions had something going on.
WS: How many missions did you fly? GK: We flew 22 on this one (Two Passes & a Crap). I flew 10 with the other one (The City of Baraboo). Two of those would have been support missions with the Hiroshima bombing, when I flew the weather reconnaissance the day before to make sure, “Is it storming over Hiroshima?” and I came back that night, so they got all the information. They had a lead bomber that was over the target before the bomb dropped so that they’d have the hourly information as of that day.
WS: And your crew didn’t know anything about what you were doing at the time, right?
GK: No, they knew what was going on. WS: How long did it take you to get there? GK: The whole mission was only between 16 &18 hours.
WS: What did you do on the flight out, was it on automatic pilot?
GK: Between you and the co-pilot, you fly the whole time.
WS: So, you just sit there and dream, right?
GK: Sweat! PS: So many of the missions you flew in the City of Baraboo were also combat missions.
GK: Oh, yeah. PS: Were they all fire bombing missions?
GK: They would be fire bombing. WS: What happened after the [atomic] bomb was dropped?
GK: The day after, we got a radiologist and got all the radiation detection equipment and hung it from the airplane, we looked like a porcupine, then we took off and went right over Hiroshima, changed altitude and made sure that the levels were there, if it was necessary to put anybody in there, why they would know what was going on. I took pictures of the bombing drop, of the damage and all that. My main comment on that, was that we hit a couple of targets in Japan, we were close to 90% of destroying the whole city, but it took about 250 to 350 airplanes. We put the spotters out there first and they dropped the fire bombs, and we just built the fires. They didn’t have that protection. The Kamikaze helped them a little bit, but not that much.
WS: So there was more destruction with the firebombing than with the atomic bomb.
GK: No, it was about the same, but it took about 300 airplanes to do it. When I looked at that whole thing, yeah, you got sick about it. Wondering what in the hell are you there for, and why. Why the countries can’t work together and start improving themselves. I have some real deep thoughts on that.
WS: You said you took some pictures, was this with a special aerial cameras mounted in the plane?”
GK: Oh, yeah, from the bombardier. He took some pictures. And that showed how everything was burned out and leveled off.
WS: Were you low enough to see the destruction that the bomb did?
GK: Oh, yeah. We weren’t all that high.
WS: Were you surprised that one bomb could do all that destruction?
GK: No, I was familiar with the bomb tests that they had out on the West coast. It all adds up to the situation we’re in right now.
WS: After that last mission, what did you do after that? After Japan surrendered?
GK: After Nagasaki, that’s when they signed the peace treaty, our mission then—we had two missions— one was going back to the United States, and the other mission, we knew that our air force would have a position in Japan, and that mission would be to move all our aircraft and equipment up to Japan and take over Japan. I had a choice, I could either transfer with that outfit and go to Japan, or I could go back home into active reserves. I figured I’d been over long enough, so I was going back home. I’ve stayed in the active reserves when I got back home. Of course I was in 1945-46. Well, then comes about 6 years later, Korea and we get all tangled up with their dammed operation, and they recalled the reserves, so we’re gonna go back. And that’s where I ended up then, I got sent back to Japan. In the mean time when they called me back to Japan from the reserves I went right back to Randolph Air Force base, in San Antonio, where they had the B29 training, they had the B29s there and while I was working with that, then came the B57 Canberra, twin engine jet, and that’s an atomic carrier and they had that at an air show and I got the bug again. I transferred to jets and jumped into that.
PS: Did you fly jets in Korea?
GK: Yes. I didn’t do any bombing missions, we were put on hold back here as to when our bombing was needed, but in the mean time, we flew in and out of the bases there. We flew missions and covered everything in Korea and knew everything what was going on. We covered Korea, China, the whole area was under the B57 squadron observation, including Russia.
PS: Did you fly over Russia? GK: No, we never flew over Russia, we just sat there and said, “Hey there, you guys mess around, we’re going to knock your dam blocks off, which was their dammed attitude.”
WS: Which plane did you like to fly the best?
GK: The B57 was absolutely beautiful. And that one’s delivery system, I was familiar with it, since I had looked at the B29 once. The B57 delivery system—the B52s are all high altitude systems—and this one here we fly our missions between 600 and 1,000 feet, right down on the deck. When we come in, if this is our target, we spot that target, at about the time we get here, we pull up in a loop, go straight up, open our bomb bay door and drop our bombs. The bomb goes up, and as it goes up, we close the door and roll up and take off—to get the hell out of there. We’re up there about 15,000 feet. The bomb is going up, turns around and goes straight down. That blue one there was our practice bomb, and I put 3 of those in a 150 foot circle, and I got the squadron award. And I kept one of the bombs as a souvenir.
WS: I understand that you got a purple heart, what was that for?
GK: That was for the ditching (of the B29). PS: How long did you stay in the service? GK: It was about 27 or 28 years. WS: Did you ever fly commercial jets? GK: No. Well, after Korea, then I was assigned back to the U.S. and assigned to the East coast. While I was out there, there were two assignments that came up and two of could make them. One was in Germany and the other was in Hawaii. I took Hawaii. (Laughter)
I had just gotten assigned over to the B57, and I was flying single engine fighter jets in training. My wife couldn’t have any babies, and the adoption rules were so dam stupid. Because I was in the military and moving around a lot, we were having trouble adopting a baby. I’m there at Randolph and I get a telephone call from my friend here in Madison, she’s a secretary to the professor at the university, and she said she just got a call from a friend of hers in Marburg, Germany, and a friend of hers had just had a baby boy and leave him there at an adoption center, they couldn’t keep him. And they had a Spanish background. My wife, Roberta, had some Spanish history, and she said he would be just perfect for me. I said, well, you call her back and make sure they keep him there, and I’ll be right over. (Laughter). And that’s exactly what I did. I talked to the commander and he said, “Sure, take all the time you want.”
So I grabbed a jet and headed for the East coast, where I picked up a military aircraft and we landed at Wiesbaden. We went to a hotel and called Marburg, and took a taxi and went up to Marburg, Germany, met with the mayor of the city—he’s like the mayor and judge and president of everything, he’s a full commander— and he authorized the adoption. We signed the papers right there. And I saw him (the baby) there and we headed back to Wiesbaden. The next morning, I have a visitor: here were two nurses and a driver, and they drove down from Marburg and they had him (the baby) with them. His name was Craig. I said, “I’ll be dammed, it’s absolutely great!” What I was doing was trying to get him a passport to go back to the U.S. “Well, we could help you with that.” So they put me in the cotton’ pickin’ car with the baby and drove me to the office where they were filling out papers. The place was pretty much full, and they were talking in German, and they just walked right through with the baby, walked right up to the front desk and told them all about this. “Oh, well, sure” and boom, boom, he’s got his cotton pickin’ papers. Two days later we’re on our way back to the U.S.
WS: Was your wife with you?
GK: No. They picked me up in Chicago and spent the night with friends and the next morning we headed for San Antonio.
WS: What is your son doing today?
GK: He’s living in Madison, and is an insurance adjustor for American Life.
PS: Did you serve in the Viet Nam war?
GK: Yes, I was over there. When I got out of Korea and they sent me back to the East coast, and after I got the assignment in Hawaii—this would be about 1966—first I was Operation’s Officer for Hickam Air Force Base, in Hawaii. Then I moved up to Air Force headquarters for Pacific Air Force. “Well, I’ve got 3 or 4 years before retirement and I said dam it—and I’m sittin’ there a major—and I’ve got to really think this thing out.” When I retire, I want to have the place that I want to live all paid for. I hoped that when I retire, I’d be promoted by that time. So, as I’m sittin’ there in Hawaii thinking about this, the deal comes up, that Viet Nam is really kickin’ it off. They weren’t getting anybody out of the Pentagon, those guys there were all covering their butts and nobody was being transferred out of the Pentagon to overseas operation. I said, “Hell, I should really do this. I’ll take me a year in Viet Nam.” I said, “send the kid back to Wisconsin, and I’ll put in a year in Viet Nam and when I come back—that cotton pickin’ assignment will tell me two things: I’ll be able to go where I want to go, and I’ll betcha I’ll get me a promotion out of it.” So I did. I went ahead and volunteered for Viet Nam.
WS: What did you fly in Viet Nam?
GK: The 02s, the observation planes. So when I was over there in PacAF, the observation was to find out where the enemy was. We were up there in Danang. I have pictures of that around here too.
WS: Did you ever name your airplane “The City of Baraboo” again?
GK: (laughs) no. I was in the flight examiner, where I would train crews on what they were to look for, what they were to do and how to fly the observation mission. I would fly on the instructor’s side, and have a pilot with me, an observer with me and I’d take them out on a mission or two. After a while they would get on an 02 and they would fly a mission I would be a shotgun and sit back in another plane and watchin’ over them, watching out for the fire, watching out what’s going on down here all around and anything in the air. That was my job then, to make sure that everything was being done right. There was an outfit that had something like a motel and it was for tourists. There were apartments and apartments with kitchens where they could cook. Well, we just took it over and I had one of the apartments there, and I also had the kitchen because I’m a cook. I was there for a year.
PS: When did you leave Viet Nam?
GK: I was there between ’66 and ’67.
PS: Did you get your promotion out of it?
GK: Yeah. WS: So your plan worked? GK: Yup, in fact, I got an assignment in the Pentagon when I left, well, Andrews Air Force Base. GK: When I was in Hawaii—that was the other lucky thing that happened. There was a young couple in the university in California—a young guy and his girlfriend. So, she gets pregnant. She flew to Hawaii and had her baby and puts it up for adoption and she headed back for California. Well, my name is the first one on the list for the adoption. That was a baby girl, and that’s the one [pointing to a photo].
WS: What’s she doing today?
GK: She got herself married to a guy who was an A10 pilot out in Germany, so [laughs] she went the military way. They ended up in Korea. She gave me two beautiful granddaughters.
WS: Who is this [pointing to a photo]?
GK: That’s her, Kimberly.
WS: Thanks for sharing your adventures with us.
GK: When you’re over in Viet Nam, and sittin’ there, you can’t go to war with a dam country when they say “Oh, Oh, you can’t cross that river”! Because, if you try to cross that river, then China says, “Hey! You’re on ground next to us, and we’re not going to put up with that. What was our god damn country thinkin’ about? So we ended up going back out of Viet Nam. And what happens? North Viet Nam takes over.
PS: What year did you retire from the service? GK: In 1970.
PS: Did you come right back to Baraboo then?
GK: Yes, when I was in Washington, D. C. at the Pentagon.
PS: What rank did you retire at? GK: Lieutenant Coronel. WS: Well thank you very much. Do you mind if we use any of this for publication?
GK: Well, I didn’t do any cuss words [laughs]
Georg Schlieckau 1904 - 1999
George Schlieckau
A Sauk County Flying Legend
George Schlieckau, born in 1904, was the oldest aviator to regularly use the Reedsburg airport. George’s name has been linked to the Reedsburg port ever since he soloed Cecil Hess there in 1928. He himself had soloed just the year before when he was 23 years old.
Schlieckau owned the first airplane in Sank County and owned eight different planes during his lifetime.
George had many flying stories to recount when interviewed in 1997 for Reedsburg Remembers 150 Years. This one he tells often. After he first received his license, his parents wanted to go to Kansas to a wedding so George took them to the train station. The next morning he secretly left by plane for the same Kansas town. His plane had no brakes or compass; he had very little experience.
George Schlieckau
George will never forget the landing — in a Kansas wheat field. From the air the wheat looked to be six inches tall; it turned out to be three feet. The plane was about to nose over, but he applied more gas which brought the tail back down.
After staying with relatives for five days, George had to find a way out of that field. Cousins and neighbors helped get the plane to the road. There were highlines on either side, but he managed to take off with a yard on each side to spare. He noted that, “It was a damn foolish thing to do.”
Although George never knew Charles Lindbergh personally, he was his inspiration. “Lindbergh would fly around the country to give demonstrations,” said Schlieckau. "I took them all in. I told my brother that if Lindberg made it over to Paris [in 1927], I was going to buy my own plane. Four days after he flew to Paris,” recalled Schlieckau, “I purchased an airplane. It was a World War I primary trainer—a Curtis biplane with an Ox-5 engine."
George had the plane but now he had to go to Illinois for flying lessons.
Schlieckau recalled, in a 1991 Baraboo News Republic article that, “The first time I took the plane up by myself, I knew I would be having trouble with the gliding before the landing. If I went too fast, I overshot the landing field and if I came in too slow, I’d drop before the field.
“When I tried to come in to land on my first flight, I hit the ground before the landing field,” he said. “I bounced so hard that I went up 12 feet and cleared the trees and fence to get to the landing field. My instructor was in the field waving for me to go up again and circle around before landing. I forgot for a minute why he was there and waved back to him!
George Schlieckau giving rides in the 1930s
I did go up again,” said George, “and managed to land fine on the second try, although, I almost went through the hanger at the other end of the field.”
After three days of instruction during a week of fog and rain, and three and one half hours of flying time, he took the plane home to show it off to his friends and neighbors. “It was a pretty exciting time on the telephone lines,” he said, as neighbors passed along the sights they had seen. By his second flight at home, he was already giving rides. “Practically everyone around this area had a ride,” said Schlieckau.
At 93, Schlieckau had cataracts removed and laser treatment on his eyes and he said he could see as well as a ten-year old. He continued flying until shortly before his death in 1999.
Cecil Hess
Cecil Hess
Early Pioneer Aviator
By Monica Liegel
Cecil Hess’s interest in flying began in 1912 at the age of 11, after seeing a French plane at the Richland County Fair.
Ten years later he pursued his interest by studying mechanics at the Sweeney Auto and Aviation School in Kansas City, Missouri. Later, with the assistance of George Schlieckau, who had several vintage planes, he learned to fly. Cecil then purchased his own plane in 1928 at a cost of $2,500. Accompanied by a Mr. Griffin, an army pilot, they flew it from Wausau to Reedsburg. The 80 acre Siemandel farm on South Dewey was rented where Cecil built a hanger and soon after the land was purchased by the city for what is now the Reedsburg Airport.
The Waco GXE10 had a cruising speed of 97 miles per hour and could be fitted with runners or pontoons for landing on ice or water. Cecil gave rides to any adventurous person willing to pay a penny a pound (up to $2.50) to $10, depending upon the crowd.
Cecil Hess 1926
Cecil Hess was one of the early barnstorming stunt flyers, performing at many southwestem Wisconsin fairs. They were described as “seat of the pants” flyers. Cecil said that he never flew with a parachute and didn‘t need a compass. “The whip stall was the biggest thrill I got out of flying," he was quoted as saying, “You almost make the plane stand on its tail and drop down. Then you turn on the power and up she goes."
Hess lived in Reedsburg since 1920 and operated a machine shop where he repaired anything mechanical, automotive and aeronautical. He needed this skill because there were mishaps with the plane from time to time.
“I cracked up at different times, never had anything but a bloody nose,” he said. “One time I was barnstorming a church picnic at Bear Valley. I did a power dive and it shook the gas line loose from the carburetor. I had to make a forced landing. The plane turned over on its back and I got just a scratch.”
During an air show at Reedsburg in 1930, Cecil took up an aviatrix, named Mae Rox, aka, Peaches LaMar, who parachuted off the wing of his plane. The story of her tragic descent will appear in a future newsletter.
Due to these and other incidents of misfortune that Hess had with the plane, Roland Cushman, local sign painter/artist, in a playful twist on words, lettered the name Miss Fortune on Cecil’s plane.
Ray Palmer, a good friend, helped Hess maintain the plane. In a recent interview, Palmer recalled those days.
“One day Cecil called me up and told me to stop out.” The plane had been in storage for several years by then.
“Ray, I want you to help me again. In a couple of weeks I’m going to ownMiss Fortune 50 years and I’m going to fly it," said Hess.
The valves were stuck, the carburetor was corroded, and the radiator leaked, said Palmer, but after working on it for two weeks, they got the engine running again.
Miss Fortune and Cecil
“We hauled everything out to the airport, put the wings and rudder back on, tightened up the struts and checked everything out. The morning that he’d owned it 50 years, he flew it.”
After circling Reedsburg he returned and landed safely. The engine wasn’t pulling just right so they worked on it some more.
On the next test flight, Palmer recounted what happened.
“We got her fired up and she was runnin’ nice. He gave her the fuel and she started to roll and everything was going fine. Well, we were down beyond that cement block hanger and all at once she turned to the left. And right up that hill we went, through the brush. Oh, the brush flew! She was startin’ to lift off. We were doin’ pretty good, but thank God there was a big locust tree there. That got us — we stopped!
“We went through the top of the tree and came down on the wheels on the other side. Of course, the prop was a little bit shorter than when it was made."
Hess last flew Miss Fortune in I978 at the age of 77.
Antique plane hobbyists wanted the plane but Cecil wouldn‘t sell until after the 1978 Old Settler’s picnic. He had vowed to fly Miss Fortune one last time in honor of the meeting. He didn‘t get it running for the meeting in February, but he finally did fly her the following July.
The Waco GXE10 has been carefully restored and resides at the Public Field in Shelbyville, IL.
Cecil Hess passed away in 1979.
Nels J. Nelson
Nels J. Nelson
September 28, 1911
BELIEVES AEROPLANE HAS GREAT FUTURE
From Tuesday’s Daily
Nels J. Nelson, one of the Mills Team of Aviators, who is one of the youngest and most daring of American Aviators, whose spectacular flights in the East created a sensation, is in Baraboo today looking over the fair grounds and getting his machine in preparation for his proposed flights at the Sauk county fair, 27th, 28th and 29th, of this month. Mr. Nelson has just completed an engagement t Aledo, ILL., where, on account of his excellent flying, they held him over an extra day and also postponed the fair likewise. Previous to this engagement, he flew at Bar Harbor, Maine, where he crossed the bay in the face of a 40 mile gale. For this feat of daring he was presented with a loving cup by the Business Men’s Association of that town in appreciation for his worth. At New Briton, Conn., he also created a sensation by a cross country flight and also by crossing the New Point Bay. He is in Baraboo to give an exhibition of the world’s most modern mechanical contrivance, the aeroplane, which spells the ultimate word of modern progress and ingenuity. Mr. Nelson, like other great men of his profession has his peculiarities, which as being afraid to ride in an elevator. He states that before he will ride in an elevator, it must have parachute attachments. He also hesitates before he will enter a Ferris wheel.
When asked the possibilities of the aeroplane by a representative of The Republic, Mr. Nelson said: “Most people believe that the aeroplane will never become practical and that it will always retain its old name, as being the sport of kings, but to my earnest belief, I think that within a few years, the aeroplane, which now holds the world spellbound, will become just as practical and used as much as the automobiles today, if not more. Everybody should realize that the aeroplane is still in its infancy, it being only five years ago since the Wright Bros. Startled the whole world by their flights in Fort Myers. According to statistics,” continued Mr. Nelson, “the aeroplane, is safer than the automobile, as according to the percentage of automobiles and aeroplanes in use, the automobiles lead in the fatalities.”
When asked of what use the heavier than air machines would be in war, Nelson said, “the aeroplane will be a great factor in ascertaining the enemies position, for they have already taken pictures of forts and panoramas that have stretched beneath them, as they have sped on their way. They also could drop bombs, and destroy whole armies, but I hardly think that would be permitted by the powers as it is against the rules that now obtain in civilized warfare.”
Nelson at the Baraboo Fairgrounds
September 29, 1911
AVIATOR NELSON MAKES A FLIGHT
[Nels J. Nelson]
Excerpt from “Forever in Sumpter” by Earhart Mueller
Originally found in the Baraboo Evening News, Sept. 29, 1911
Thousands see the Birdman at the Fair virtually taking his life in his hands and against the expressed wishes of everybody. Aviator N.J. Nelson of the Mills Aviators, made his second flight at the Sauk County Fair, Thursday and gave thousands a thrill that will be long remembered. He proved himself to be one of America’s most daring and skillful mariners of the year.
About 2:30 p.m., just as a storm was approaching, Mr. Nelson had his machine wheeled out into the center enclosure in a vain attempt to fly before the storm broke out with enraged fury. Not to be daunted by this, the daring aviator waited under the machine until a lull, then had it placed into position.
Nelson's Aeroplane at Baraboo Fairgrounds 1911
After waiting for some time for the approaching storm to abate, Mr. Nelson placed himself into the pilot seat, gave the signals and was off. The machine glided about a half-mile east and descended into a meadow. The currents of air were so treacherous that it was unwise to attempt a prolonged flight. There was no damage to the machine.
On Tuesday, Aviator Nelson gave Baraboo their first exhibition of a flying machine. The airplane was wheeled into the track enclosure and placed into position. The crowd was naturally curious but all were kept away to give the airman freedom of action.
At about 5:00 p.m. Mr. Nelson declared that the machine was ready. The gasoline was turned on, the power tried and the engine sent the heavy propeller buzzing, making a noise that could be heard all over the grounds. The machine was held in place by seven husky, young men and each found that it needed his attention to hold it still. Starting the motor is a perilous task, for the man who starts the propeller around has to get away quickly or else he will be blown a great distance. The motor was found to be right and after looking the ground over carefully, the birdman announced his intention to fly.
Nels J. Nelson flying over Baraboo 1911
The airplane shot across the field for about 100 feet and when opposite the judges stand, was seen to shoot off the ground, then up and up, swaying neither to the right nor the left, until almost out of sight. He then returned and encircled the field at an altitude of 600 feet. Then swooping down as if like an eagle about to snatch its unsuspecting prey until about 50 feet from the ground. He then alighted like a sea gull, giving the gathered assemblage an exhibition long to be remembered. Several pictures were taken.
Baraboo was fortunate, getting three flights of the bi-plane at the Fair-last week. At Portage, the machine and aviator failed to appear. At Beaver Dam the aviator stood upon the ground during the whole week and the management worried. At Viroqua the machine was wrecked and that ended the fun. The Baraboo management obtained the best flights of any in the state except Milwaukee. While all the flights were not as long as desired, yet Nelson demonstrated that he could fly. To bring a flying man up to the letter of the contract would be performing a miracle, it was said. It is believed that the Baraboo merchants would not be called upon to pay any of the guarantees they subscribed.
Mae Rox
Parachute Jump Ends in Tragedy
By Bill Schuette
Airplanes were still relatively unique during the late 1920's and a person jumping out of them was even more unusual. Therefore, when a flying circus was hired to entertain the Reedsburg community for the 4 of July celebration in 1930, one of the prime attractions was a parachute jump.
The Mid West Airways troop, from Rockford, IL, put on stunt flying demonstrations for thousands of awe struck spectators below — the largest crowd to attend such activities in anyone‘s memory.
During the second day of the celebration, the climax of the show was to be a parachute jump by Evelyn Holman. After circling the field for several minutes, the plane suddenly landed. Holman got out, handed her ‘chute to l9 year old Mae Rox, whose professional name was Peaches LaMar, and said, “You take my place, I’m scared.” Miss Rox had jumped the day before, but strapped on the equipment anyway and was soon on her way to 1,500 feet. The crowd buzzed with excitement as the plane again circled the field.
"There she goes.” shouted a spectator as Rox appeared below the plane. An article in the 1930 Times-Press picks up the story:
“Down, down she fell and then silence settled over the crowd as realization seemed to come to everyone at once that something was wrong. “Down, straight down, seemingly without a struggle fell Miss Rox and vanished behind a fringe of trees beyond the cornfield, into the marshland southwest of the airport.
“A woman shrieked. The silence became a bedlam of screams and shouts. The crowd broke across the airport with a rush, but police were first and barred the way.”
As the pilot [Cecil Hess] circled over the spot, flying circus personnel leaped into their cars and headed to the site of the tragedy. The pilot returned to the airfield, almost cracking up the ship, and joined the race to the girl. She was found buried 18 inches in the soft soil.
Her ‘chute was determined to be in good working order upon examination. Miss Rox has been jumping for the flying circus since August and had made over 100 jumps previously. It was speculated that she had fainted upon exiting the airplane, failed to pull her ripcord and never knew what happened.
Josh Sanford
Joshua Sanford
1919 – 1962
By Monica Liegel
Joshua (Josh) Sanford was the only Native American to fly as a pilot and flight commander with the famous Flying Tigers of World War II. This aviation group was so named because of the tiger shark jaws painted on the noses of their aircraft. Josh, otherwise known as “Chief,” was a descendent of Chief Decorah of the Winnebago (Ho Chunk) nation.
Josh Sanford with his P40 Warhawk 1942 - 1946
He was born near Friendship, Wisconsin. After graduating from Viroqua High School and attending the University of Wisconsin in Madison, Sanford enlisted in the Army Air Corps in January of 1942.
At the time, the United States was involved in the Indo-China war and Captain Sanford was sent there to serve his country and China. The Japanese, with a superb air fleet, had been easily attacking the Burma Road, lifeline of China, and Rangoon, and the seaport of Burma. Colonel Claire L. Chennault, a staunch friend of free China and the best tactician of military aviation in the Pacific, was assigned the task of leading the Flying Tigers to defend Indo-China.
With just a volunteer skeletal air force, the dependable P-40 Warhawk pursuit plane, along with the skill, courage and devotion of these Flying Tigers, victory would not be denied.
As a member of the 75th Fighter Squadron of the 14th Air Force, Captain Sanford flew 102 combat missions had 7 enemy kills and numerous possible hits. He was shot down or ditched 12 times. For meritorious service, he received 10 medals, including the Purple Heart twice, and other honorable citations.
Thirty years after the war ended, the Chinese government awarded all veterans of the Flying Tigers the “China War Memorial Medal." It was awarded posthumously to Josh Sanford. Death came at the early age of 43 on October 21, 1962. War injuries were a contributing factor.
Rose, his wife, who has lived in Reedsburg since 1956 said, “Josh didn’t like to talk about his war experiences and chose never to shoot a gun again. He had seen too much killing."
Josh Sanford was manager of the Reedsburg Airport from 1956 until August of 1958. Then he was appointed Civil Defense Director for an eleven southwestern county area, including Sauk County.
Before residing in Reedsburg, the Sanford family lived in Hillsboro for approximately eight years. In his honor, the community named its airport The Captain Joshua Sanford Airport.
Otto Baumgarten
Otto Baumgarten
From Football to B29
by Bob Dewel
There is a reason that there are a lot of pictures of the 1943 Baraboo High School football team around town. Undefeated, they had only one touchdown scored upon them all season, while racking up 232 total points against their opponents. There in the 1944 school annual, front row and fourth from the left, is tackle Otto Baumgarten Jr. His look-alike brother Ted is just down the line. Otto is also shown in one of the cameo photos at the bottom of the page.
You’ll also find this tall and lanky athlete in the photo of the basketball squad. Turn the page and there he is on the track team. The newspaper later mentioned Baumgarten, “whose exploits on the gridiron are still vivid memories among sports fans here.” They were a proud bunch, those hardy members of Otto’s fated generations which came of age in World War II. They would not shrink from the duty soon to be imposed upon then.
Otto Baumgarten
Otto Baumgarten did not graduate with his class in the spring of 1944. With the draft looming, immediate enlistment offered young men more choices of assignment. Twenty-two senior men had already gone, and Otto joined the Army Air Force in February, 1944. January of 1945 found Sgt. Baumgarten in the Pacific Theater of operations, probably in the Mariana Islands.
This was serious business. In a superb example of investigative reporting, Mike Berg of Elva, WI has traced the military history of Baumgarten and his bomber in a book titled “The Crew of the Empire Express”. This story is based upon excerpts from his book.
As a blister gunner on a B29, Otto’s job called for nerves of steel. At 19, he appears to have been the youngest of the eleven-man crew of his bomber, the Empire Express. Several raids were made, flying the 12 hour round trip stretch over water from Tinian Island. As spring wore on they bombed several Japanese targets, including Tokyo.
Over Kyushu in May
As well-trained and disciplined as was the crew of the Empire Express, and as well as each man knew his job, they were not prepared for what happened on May 7, 1945 over Kyushu, Japan. As they approached the slope of Mount Hachiman just ahead, a Japanese KI-45 fighter appeared, piloted by a patriotic and perhaps suicidal Japanese pilot. M/Sgt. Tsutomu Murata flew his plane almost head-on into the Empire Express, clipping ten feet off a wing.
Early Memorials
Remarkably, the first modest memorial was conceived by Japanese villagers living near the site of the crash. They were also largely responsible for the development of the area into a mountainside Peace Park.
Besides the 11 man crew of the Empire Express, two other men are memorialized in the Park. The B29 was sent hurtling to the ground following a nearly head-on crash with a Japanese fighter plane piloted by Tsutomu Murata and his co-pilot, Shigeu Kato. Both badly damaged planes then crashed, carrying 8 Americans and two Japanese to their deaths. Only Baumgarten and two comrades were able to parachute out of the stricken aircraft, but they were subsequently executed
This sent both planes into a spiral of death on the mountainside. Only Otto and two other crewmen were able to escape the death-plunge near Sanko-Mura village. The other 8 men perished in the mountainside crash—as did Japanese pilot Murata and his co-pilot. It appears that the three surviving Americans were quickly captured and taken to a Nakatsu police station, and then to Fukuota, a seaport.
Following local outrage over a bombing of that city, a General Fukushima declared that they and some other prisoners were to be “disposed of without trial”. Japanese records indicate that on June 20, 1945 some American prisoners were killed. At least eight, perhaps including Otto and his fellow airmen were taken to a nearby school and beheaded.
Sgt. Otto Baumgarten’s remains were never located. The atomic bomb would be dropped in a little over a month and the war would end. Life was over for 19 year old Otto, but there is much more to his story. It is shared with that of the Japanese pilot, Murata.
This is not the end of the story of Otto Baumgarten, however. In a scholarly investigative effort, Mike Berg of Eleva, WI has carefully documented an unusual sequel. In short, Baumgartner shares recognition, along with his crew members in a large memorial at the site of the B29 crash on the side of Mount Hachiman in (Oita Province), a southernmost island of Japan.
Peace Park in Japan
It appears that a villager or farmer first erected a post on the site with a sign which, when translated, read “Here Lie American Soldiers”. Berg writes “Later, after the bodies were exhumed, a large stone was erected at the site which read, in both Japanese and English ‘in Memory of B29 crash victims.” Both American Occupation officials and local Japanese participated in this dedication.
Later Developments
“Somewhat later a larger memorial and museum was envisioned by the villagers of Sanko-Mura, which is located about three miles from the site” writes Berg, on land donated by a local farmer. Both nearby American occupation forces and Japanese citizens participated in the effort, with some construction done by local workers.
Engraved on a large 4 x 6 foot granite slab is a Unites States map, with home states of the crew physically highlighted, including of course Wisconsin. Flanking the slab are granite blocks three feet high engraved with flowers, one block for each Japanese pilot. Nearby is another stone slab describing in Japanese the collision of the two planes, and again listing the names of the crew, including Otto Baumgarten. Several other monuments are on the grounds of the Peace Park.
Inscribed in the handwriting of Col. Hewitt E. Lovelace is an inscription: “Each stone embedded in the face of this monument represents a life expended in the search for world peace. May this monument stand as a perpetual reminder of the futility of war”. Berg writes that the dedication was made to a crowd of 1000 persons, on May 7, 1971 at 10:30 A.M., exadtly 26 years after the crash of the planes. It featured flags and anthems of both nations, followed by a 21 gun salute, rare for lower ranking servicemen.
Inscribed in the handwriting of Col. Hewitt E. Lovelace is an inscription: “Each stone embedded in the face of this monument represents a life expended in the search for world peace. May this monument stand as a perpetual reminder of the futility of war”. Berg writes that the dedication was made to a crowd of 1000 persons, on May 7, 1971 at 10:30 A.M., exadtly 26 years after the crash of the planes. It featured flags and anthems of both nations, followed by a 21 gun salute, rare for lower ranking servicemen.
Other Features
There is more to the Peace Park. There are flagpoles for each crewman’s state, including of course Wisconsin. There is even a small building housing a museum. It features plane artifacts and also a newspaper clipping regarding Otto from the Baraboo News Republic. There are more flags of the home states of crewmen, and letters from the Governors of those states. Everywhere there were statements regarding the futility of war and a call for world Peace
Now Mike Berg has never been to Sanko-Mura and the Peace Park, so how does he know all of this? Mike sent personal representatives, his daughter Susan and husband Douglas Williams, already stationed in Japan. Susan wrote and recorded a long and detailed description of their search and their discoveries at the Peace Park. All of her detailed report and photos is printed in Mike’s book “The Crew of the Empire Express”.
Otto’s body was never located in the execution area, and perhaps was cremated by his captors along with his two crewmates who also parachuted out of the stricken plane. Other crewmen’s bodies from the crash site were exhumed and removed, so no Americans remains are interred at the Peace Park.
Otto’s generation, along with fellow youths from a dozen allied countries, prevailed over the tyranny and brutality of the German and Japanese “leaders”. As victors, the United States provided guided recovery and financial aid rather than oppression and recrimination. Now both Germany and Japan are allies. The Peace Park is in a way symbolic of the possibility of a better world, a peaceful world.
Don Rodewald
Korean War Veteran
By Bob Dewel
There is a significant contribution of one local man, also recognized for service in WWII. He remained in service after that war, and made significant contributions to the Korean endeavor. He was, of course, Baraboo’s Don Rodewald.
Early Failures
A graduate of Baraboo High School in 1937, Rodewald is said to have nearly failed to graduate. A farm boy in the days of Charles Lindberg, and goaded on by seat of the pants flights at local fairs and airports, he caught the flying fever early, and retained it all his life.
Flying lessons in a Piper Cub in Spring Green whetted his appetite, but like high school, he flunked his first year at the University in Madison, followed by failing to pass the Air Corps Cadet program. A year in Co. H, the National Guard, provided maturity and military knowledge, and then he was accepted into the Air Corps, significantly in the Eddie Rickenbacker 94th Pursuit Squadron.
Don’s rise in the air Force is chronicled in his very readable book, Tiger Tenacity. Although he again failed the Air Corps Cadet program, he became a ground crewman. Opportunity to fly came with attendance at a somewhat secret meeting.
The result was that Rodewald was officially dismissed from the army “for the convenience of the government” but for a far more significant role in our National Defense--China! Now he was an aviator!
Korea
Now we find that our high school, college and Air Cadet failure has become an Air Force Major! His service in the Pacific Area was significant. Though he states that he had caught some ground fire while flying in WWII, he never had met an enemy in the air. This was to change in Korea.
Rodewald’s Korea experience featured frequent contact with the Russian MIG plane piloted by North Korean or Chinese pilots.
As an expert airman, he flew 27 missions on his first tour, downing one MIG, and then reported his findings on the quality of our planes, and particularly the gun-sights, to the Pentagon. .
A Plane Crash
Now a Lt. Colonel, Rodewald’s life changed abruptly when he suffered a power failure and crashed while landing at Shaw Air Force base in South Carolina. Extensive injuries including his spine resulted in the loss of both legs. Rode proved that you can’t keep a good man down, and he soon had a significant job with Lockheed. On a trip to China he and fellow Flying Tigers were honored by President Chiang Kai Check.
Soon Rodewald was flying again, despite the loss of both legs and other complications. He flew around the world alone, the first paraplegic to do so. To stay on a snowmobile, he had Velcro sewed to his pants and the seat!
This Korean Veteran, who nearly failed high school, flunked out of UW Madison, and twice failed the Air Cadet’s entrance requirements, went on to serve his country well in WWII, and exceedingly well in Korea. He dealt admirably with his handicap for the rest of his life. Rodewald died in Sept, 2002 following a life of adventure and achievement rarely accorded to one man.
He exemplified the spirit of the men of the Korean conflict, too often ignored in our nation’s military history. He brought honor to his generation and to his community.
The Korea conflict was more significant than one might think. We lost 627 Wisconsin men, compared to 760 Wisconsin men in Vietnam. The Korean losses were in the 25 month period of war in Korea, while the Vietnam losses covered several years.
Sauk County lost four men in Korea: Laverne Gruber, Lawrence Scott, John Thorn, and Clarence Weiss.
Don T. St Hilaire
I Pushed and Booted Him out of the Plane
By Bob Dewel
Don T. St Hilaire is a pretty modest guy, and served in WWII as a pilot in the Aleutians. Don’s story is not about a Congressional Medal of Honor winner. It simply illustrates the ingenuity and bravery of the young men of that fated generation when confronted with a problem, in this case a rescue. Actually it is a letter to a magazine requesting information on a story they had published. Here is Don’s letter and story, in his own words:
By Donald T. St Hilaire, to the Saturday Evening Post
Please accept my request to locate a story which appeared in your Sat. Eve. Post entitled “And Then I Jumped”. It was written by a former army doctor whose name was Dr. Shapiro or Dr. Schaeffer. It was in your magazine (or Cosmopolitan or some other competitor) in 1945, ‘46 ‘47’ or ’48.
In 1945 I was an Army Air Corps pilot on a C-47 flying troops back from the Aleutian Islands. We landed at Cold Bay (Randall) to refuel before proceeding on to Elmendorf Field in Anchorage, Alaska. While on the ground at Cold Bay we learned that a plane from my 54th Troop Carrier Squadron was overdue.
We assumed that they must have crashed into a mountain side, so we immediately took off searching for the plane. We discovered it on the side of a mountain and saw a man waving at us. We waggled our wings to let him know we saw him. Since dusk was setting in, we returned to Cold Bay to begin a rescue plan for the next morning.
By sheer luck, we discovered we had a ground force doctor and two ground force medics on board our plane. All 3 men volunteered to parachute to the survivors, with plasma and other medical items strapped to their sides.
They were the bravest men I have ever met. Because of the mountainous terrain, we only had a very limited area to drop these men, so we had to do it quickly and with split second timing. It had to be “paratrooper style”, to drop them between a 400‘and 500’ altitude.
Lt. Estes was the pilot, while I was strapped to a bulk head by the open door to help these brave men out. The red light was on as we approached our drop zone. When it turned green, the Dr. said “Well, this is it” and jumped out like a champion.
The second man pulled his chute too soon and the chute dropped behind him on the plane floor, and I kicked it out for him. Thank God he missed the plane’s tail. The third man froze in the door. I actually pushed and booted him out. All three heroes survived the split second jump. They saved three lives and I recall another three men had died in the crash.
A dog sled team carried (them back) to the Bering Sea where a ship was waiting for them. They were later flown to a hospital at Elmendorf Field, and later to a hospital in the States. I believe these three rescue men should be awarded a Soldiers Medal, for valor, or a bronze star.
Signed Donald T. St Hilaire
What Don does not make clear in his article is that none of the three men had received parachute training, and had never jumped before. The reason he booted the third man out is that with even a moment’s hesitation the plane would have moved a great distance, and the jumper would not have landed even close the first two. On landing he might not even know the direction to go to reach them and the downed place. This would require another rescue mission, if he could be found even.
Wilbur Cooper Magli
Excerpt from “Forever in Sumpter” by Earhart Mueller
The first person to own an airplane in the township of Sumpter was Wilbur Cooper Magli. An intelligent youth, he graduated from the Prairie du Sac High School in 1928. Wilbur’s first ride in an airplane was taken in 1924 when a “barnstorming” pilot landed in the field opposite the C.C. Steuber farm west of Prairie du Sac. Many of the high school students went to see the marvel, including Harold Thoelke, Aaron Steuber, Clarence Padrutt and Wilbur. It was Wilbur who had both the money and the “nerve” needed to “go up” in the two-winged mechanical bird. Wilbur climbed boldly into the passenger seat, strapped himself in and they were off. Higher and higher they went and the boys watching from the ground were sure that this was the last they would see of Wilbur. However, they landed safely a short time later and Wilbur was a convert for life.
He was no doubt also influenced by a plane purchased by Edwin Accola in the fall of 1927 and kept in a hangar on the C.C. Steuber farm.
Wilbur started taking flying lessons and in the spring of 1928 he purchased his first plane, christening it “Alexander Eaglerock.” A fellow high school graduate seeing Wilbur in Cliffie’s Restaurant said, “l hear you bought yourself a plane?” “l sure as hell did” replied Wilbur jauntily.
He spent the summer of 1928 giving air tours at the Wisconsin Dells. This was the beginning of a life of flying for Wilbur and he spent several summers barnstorming in the Midwest. One time he gave his father Ferdinand Magli a ride and Mr. Magli was delighted to see the Sauk prairie with its varied fields and roads from the air. Wilbur, however, never gave his father another ride, not wishing any harm to befall him.
One time in September of 1931 Wilbur was forced to land in a clearing in Ontario, Canada, due to visibility problems due to the fog. While waiting for the fog to clear Wilbur spied a bear cub in a nearby tree, and another playing on the ground. He tossed the later cub into the cockpit despite the tiny ball of fur biting and clawing for freedom. He wanted to take the other cub also, but decided to get going. Just as he was taking off the mother bear emerged from the underbrush and started for the plane. The captured cub became a great companion for Wilbur and a favorite of all the spectators on cross- country hikes, who usually took care of the feeding. Wilbur named the cub “Dinah” and she became famous as the flying bear cub for she went wherever Wilbur went. In late October of the following year it was necessary to sell Dinah as he was taking passengers to Florida who did not seem to care for her company in the two-passenger plane.
At about that time Wilbur helped with the search of a down plane in the Baraboo Bluffs. At another time when his plane was new, Wilbur flew low over Bert Hyer’s oats field and blew down a row of oat shocks, which was not appreciated.
Wilbur did much flying commercially. Six months into 1935 were spent in Texas, the Rio Grande Valley and Mexico. While there he carried passengers, did exhibition flying and took motion pictures. He carried fishing parties to their islands in the Gulf.
In 1938 Wilbur worked for the Abrams Aeria Survey of Lansing, Michigan piloting a special aeria mapper plane, accompanied by an aeria photographer. Aerial mapping was valued at $18.00 a minute with six miles of pictures taken a minute, at a height of three miles in the sky, the plane traveling at a cruising speed of 180 miles per hour. Aerial mapping was only done when the weather was perfect which was only 4-5 days a month, for visibility had to be ten miles. Wilbur explained that aerial mapping was just like plowing a field. “You must keep a straight furrow to get good pictures, usually flying from north to south and not deviating from the line more than 100 feet or so.”
In time Wilbur secured a job as an airline pilot with the American Air Lines from Nashville, Tennessee to Washington D.C., a position he filled for over fifteen years. In1943 he became a member of the Million Miler Club and had flown more than 4,000,000 miles for the airline. Wilbur moved to Franklin, Tennessee where he owned and operated a horse ranch where he pursued his lifetime hobby of horses.
Wilbur married Miss Nellie Boyd and they had four children. This was his second marriage for he had married early in life and had a daughter Yvonne Magli. Wilbur died of leukemia on September 10, 1955 having achieved the rank of airline Captain at the time of his death.
Earl E. Bowe
Baraboo Daily News – October 11, 1920
Fatally Hurt by Propeller
Passenger Too Hasty In Getting Out of Aeroplane and is Struck
Injured is in Hospital
BLADE BREAKS AS IT STRIKES MAN ON HEAD
First Serious Accident These Planes Have Had While Taking Passengers
Earl E. Bowe was struck by an aeroplane propeller Sunday afternoon just before four o’clock as he was getting out of the cockpit to the ground after taking a ride. The young man was stuck on the head, knocked unconscious and fatally injured, by the propeller blade, which nearly scalped him. Part of the skull bone was severed and no hope is held for his recovery. He was taken to the Baraboo hospital soon after the accident where he has been in an unconscious state since.
Mr. Bowe went up in the plane driven by J.F. Hyde, one of the aeroplanes from Sheldon, Ill. Near the Willis Ryan farm, and have been making flying exhibits and also taking up passengers for short rides. Mr. Bowe was strapped in the seat and upon arriving on the ground at the end of the journey unstrapped himself to get out quickly. In spite of the pilot’s warning to wait he kept on going, and instead of stepping out over the side of the aircraft went out over the front. One of the mechanics on the ground waved his hand frantically for him to stop, just as he ran squarely into the propeller on the front of the aircraft which had not entirely stopped revolving. The metal portion of the propeller struck the man squarely on the head, and broke in two.
Mr. Bowe was formerly employed in the woolen mil but since it closed has been employed at the storehouse of the C&NW railroad. He is married. Mr. Bowe’s mother, Mrs. Eleanor Bowe also resides in this city.
O.B. Freeman, chief pilot of the aeroplanes that stopped in this city states that this is the first serious accident they have had of its kind with passengers. Thomas Hood of this city was up in the other plane at the time of the accident.
Wisconsin State Journal –October 11, 1920
Near death after Leap from Plane
_____
Earl Bowe, Passenger, Overanxious to Reach Ground,
Struck in head by Propeller
_____
Baraboo—Fright and over anxiety to quit the airplane in which he had ridden as a passenger probably has cost the life of Earl Bowe, aged 30, of this city. Bowe lies at the point of death at the Baraboo hospital, with the upper portion of his skull shorn away.
Unwilling to wait for the stopping of the plane, which was one of two sent by the Sheldon company of Chicago yesterday to stage passenger flights at the Alvin Alexander farm, near Baraboo, Bowe unstrapped himself and leaped just after the machine landed. He was struck in the head by a propeller blade.
Bowe was an employee of the Island Woolen Mills. He is married and the father of three small children.
Appleton Post Crescent – October 12, 1920
Pays with Life for Jumping Out of Plane
Baraboo, Wis—Earl Bowe, the top of whose head was shorn away by an airplane propeller Sunday, died last night at the Baraboo Hospital.
J.S. Hyde, of Sheldon, Ill., pilot of the passenger plane in which Bowe rode, tried to restrain Bowe as the plane landed at the Alvin Alexander farm [location of St. Claire Hospital today] but the frightened man unstrapped himself and crawled out of the machine while it was still in motion.
Wisconsin State Journal – October 12, 1920
Airplane Victim Dies in Baraboo
Earl Bowe, Struck in Head by Propeller, Succumbs to Injury
Baraboo—Earl Bowe, the top of whose head was shorn away by an airplane propeller Sunday, died last night at the Baraboo Hospital.
J.H. Hyde of Sheldon, Ill. Pilot of the passenger plane in which Bowe rode, tried to restrain Bowe as the plane landed at the Alvin Alexander farm, but the frightened man unstrapped himself and crawled out of the machine while it was still in motion.
Bowe was about 30 years old. He is survived by his mother, his widow and three small children. He will be buried in Baraboo.
Skull Fracture Causes Death
Earl E. Bowe, died Monday evening shortly after six o’clock at the Baraboo hospital as the result of a fractured skull, when struck by a blade of an aeroplane propeller. Deceased did not regain consciousness after the accident which occurred Sunday afternoon about four o’clock as he was getting out of the plane after taking a ride.
He is survived by his wife and mother, Mrs. Eleanor Bowe.
No Inquest held on Plane Mishap
District attorney H.R. Bohn after an investigation of the death of Earl E. Bowe decided the mishap was purely accidental and exonerated the aviators from all blame. The district attorney did not hold an inquest over the case. Mr. Bowe’s death resulted from a blow on the head Sunday from the propeller of one of the aeroplanes that have been giving exhibitions in Baraboo.