cmyr
02-28-2010, 05:31 AM
Once a Marine
Veteran Gil Gericke proud of his years of service
BY BILL THORNLEY
Published: Thursday, February 4, 2010 11:10 AM CST
“… They were the Leathernecks, the old breed of American regular, regarding the service as home and war an occupation, and they transmitted their temper and character and viewpoint to the high-hearted volunteer mass.”
Colonel John W. Thomason
Speaking of the United States Marines in World War II
SPOONER– In April of 1943 Gil Gericke was a young man of 19, recently out of Foreman High School in Chicago with the Class of 1941. His senior year, of course, marked a turning point in American history, as on December 7, 1941 – as the Honolulu Star-Bulletin proclaimed – “WAR! Oahu Bombed By Japanese Planes.”
The United States was about to enter World War II.
Like young men of the time, Gericke put his life on hold to join the war effort.
“After school I’d gone down to weld at a shipyard in Evansville, Ind., for awhile,” he said. “I enlisted in April 1943. The war was on. I didn’t like what was going on, so I thought I’d get out of civilian life and try to do some good.”
Gericke, now 86 and a resident of the Spooner Nursing Home, became a U.S. Marine, a member of the 1st Marine Division, 1st Regiment, 2nd Battalion. He was stationed in San Diego, Calif. Following training in San Diego, he was sent north to Camp Elliott for shooting instruction and practice.
“I was only 19, just a kid,” he said. “So were a lot of other guys back then. I went overseas to a French island called New Caledonia, just off Australia. I went on to Australia from there, and then on to Cape Gloucester on New Britain. We were fighting the Japanese, and we had it pretty well under control.”
As the war went on, however, the fighting became ferocious. The battle shifted to tiny Palau Island, a 2-mile-by-6-mile chunk of Pacific Island real estate where Japanese and American forces nearly had to battle for elbow room.
“It was some of the worst fighting – and one of the least heard of places – in the war,” said Gericke. “We lost three-quarters of our men. And that’s when I got hurt the first time.
“We were going up a ridge behind a tank. I remember seeing a guy out in front of us by a hole. When it was over I was somehow under that guy, in the hole. I’d been blown about 20 feet. A mortar shell came in, and the concussion had blown me into the ditch. I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed.”
Gericke was shipped out for recovery, where he eventually regained all movement. Following his stay in the hospital he returned to his unit and was sent to Okinawa.
“It was the easiest landing we ever had,” he recalls. “We just walked up right on shore. We were amazed, there was no resistance. They’d all pulled down to the other end of the island, where they were waiting for us.”
It was one of the historic landings of World War II. Advancing behind the assault waves the reserves landed. Two battalions of the 1st Marines landed, followed shortly after by the first elements of the Division’s artillery (4th Battalion, 11th Marines). Despite some elaborate after-thinking, there is no evidence that anyone involved in the entire Okinawa landing, from the highest admiral and general there, at Guam, at Pearl, or back in Washington, where plans were hatched, was not totally surprised when the first thrust carried them nearly 3,500 yards into the Okinawa soil.
An unopposed landing was the one event that had not been anticipated at Okinawa. Some of the more superstitious have said the date had something to do with it … April 1, April Fool’s Day. All were sure the Japanese were up to a complex trick. The second day was just as quiet. Casualties for the two days came to three killed, 18 wounded.
The Japanese, however, did attack from the sky.
“That first night on Okinawa we had the biggest armada,” said Gericke, recalling looking out over the bay at the ships. “We looked up, and these Kamikaze pilots would come in and dive right into the ships. Nobody can even imagine that. The big bay, ships all over, explosions all over, it was just like a movie.”
Gericke was also witness to the historical Japanese tactic of cave warfare. The Japanese soldiers would literally go underground, hiding in an elaborate system of caves and tunnels on the island.
“They had some steel doors,” he recalled. “They’d open, fire, then close – we couldn’t get at them. We’d look up, see the openings, and they’d fire, so fast.”
The Marines finally got the upper hand on the Japanese-infested caves, using flame-throwers to either drive the enemies out of their underground hiding spots, or make sure they never saw sunlight again.
“One Japanese general came out, knelt down, took a long dagger and stabbed it in his stomach,” recalled Gericke. “I didn’t see this, but others told me about it. His aide then took the dagger and whacked his head off. That’s what they did when they lost.”
The early quiet on Okinawa did not last very long.
“The fighting kept getting worse and worse the farther south we went,” said Gericke. “Wana Ridge – that’s where I got it. I can still see it. Bullets were flying all over the place. I’m lucky one found my leg instead of my head.”
The shot in the leg instantly knocked Gericke to the ground and out of the war.
“That was it for me,” he said. “The war was over. They took me back in an Amtrack. I was in the back. The whole thing was full of blood, and it was mine. I was laid on a stretcher all the way back. I lost a lot of blood, so they hurried up. When they got me to the aid station they poked me with morphine. I remember I was smoking a cigarette. I took one or two puffs, and that was it. I was out.”
Gericke spent 18 months in the hospital and earned a Purple Heart for his ordeal.
“When I was shot, there was so much action going on,” he said. “We had planes up in the air dropping bombs, rifles were going off, explosions. I got shot from somewhere, but we never were sure from where. The bullet they dug out of me was a big one, 45 caliber. That was the end of my action.”
Gericke and other wounded soldiers were flown to Guam when he was healthy enough to be moved out. Even that trip proved to be a close call.
“We were all so happy to be going there,” said Gericke. “We were trying to get to Hawaii when one of the motors went out. All of us wounded were trying to rip the casts off in case we ended up in the ocean. But we made it to a small island, then went on to Hawaii.
“They were so nice to us at the hospital there. We said the first thing we wanted was bacon and eggs, and, boy, did we get bacon and eggs. We were heroes then. They treated us so well. Not like Vietnam … they spit on those boys. That was wrong.”
A gifted athlete, Gericke had thought of trying baseball. With his leg shattered, however, that dream ended.
“It changed my life completely,” he said. “I could never do sports again.”
When he got back to the mainland, the healing continued for a long time.
“When I came back I went into five different hospitals in the United States,” said Gericke. “I finally ended up at the Great Lakes Naval Hospital north of Chicago. My parents used to come up on a train to see me.”
Finally out of the hospital, he met his wife-to-be, Ruth, after the war.
“I went to work at Northwest National Bank, and that’s where I met her,” he said. “She worked for me for awhile.”
The two shared a room at the nursing home for several years until she passed away.
“He was my boss,” she recalled while she was still with him. “We were married October 9, 1948.”
“That was the end of my rule,” he laughed. “She became the boss then.”
They moved from Chicago to Middle McKenzie Lake in Washburn County in 1952. It was pretty much a wilderness lake at that time, with one rutted dirt road leading in. There, they raised their daughter, Lynn.
“We stayed on that lake for 48 years,” said Gericke. “George Carson was our neighbor. He was in the U.S. Army during the war, fighting Germans. We didn’t ever talk about the war much. A lot of the guys who were there fighting didn’t. This is the first time I’ve talked about it in years. This is bringing back a lot of memories, things I thought I’d forgotten.”
For awhile, it was almost a pioneer existence on Middle McKenzie, especially when the snows of winter closed in.
“During winter we were the only ones on the lake,” he said. “Even George would go back to work in Chicago. I just ice fished. We mainly stayed in after deer season. There was nothing to do. We read a lot. It was so peaceful back then.”
Prior to moving, Gericke had fallen in love with the area during vacation fishing trips. He ran the Forrest Lodge with four cabins for several years. The spelling was intentional, meaning both “Forest” and “For Rest.”
“The World War II guys are going so fast,” said Gericke. “I think it’s up close to 2,000 of us dying a day now.”
He received three battle stars, which he has framed on his wall, signifying the three major battles he fought in. He also kept a book about The 1st Marine Division, The Old Breed, which he occasionally looks at. An avid Chicago Cubs fan, he is still waiting for his beloved baseball team to win a championship.
Veteran Gil Gericke proud of his years of service
BY BILL THORNLEY
Published: Thursday, February 4, 2010 11:10 AM CST
“… They were the Leathernecks, the old breed of American regular, regarding the service as home and war an occupation, and they transmitted their temper and character and viewpoint to the high-hearted volunteer mass.”
Colonel John W. Thomason
Speaking of the United States Marines in World War II
SPOONER– In April of 1943 Gil Gericke was a young man of 19, recently out of Foreman High School in Chicago with the Class of 1941. His senior year, of course, marked a turning point in American history, as on December 7, 1941 – as the Honolulu Star-Bulletin proclaimed – “WAR! Oahu Bombed By Japanese Planes.”
The United States was about to enter World War II.
Like young men of the time, Gericke put his life on hold to join the war effort.
“After school I’d gone down to weld at a shipyard in Evansville, Ind., for awhile,” he said. “I enlisted in April 1943. The war was on. I didn’t like what was going on, so I thought I’d get out of civilian life and try to do some good.”
Gericke, now 86 and a resident of the Spooner Nursing Home, became a U.S. Marine, a member of the 1st Marine Division, 1st Regiment, 2nd Battalion. He was stationed in San Diego, Calif. Following training in San Diego, he was sent north to Camp Elliott for shooting instruction and practice.
“I was only 19, just a kid,” he said. “So were a lot of other guys back then. I went overseas to a French island called New Caledonia, just off Australia. I went on to Australia from there, and then on to Cape Gloucester on New Britain. We were fighting the Japanese, and we had it pretty well under control.”
As the war went on, however, the fighting became ferocious. The battle shifted to tiny Palau Island, a 2-mile-by-6-mile chunk of Pacific Island real estate where Japanese and American forces nearly had to battle for elbow room.
“It was some of the worst fighting – and one of the least heard of places – in the war,” said Gericke. “We lost three-quarters of our men. And that’s when I got hurt the first time.
“We were going up a ridge behind a tank. I remember seeing a guy out in front of us by a hole. When it was over I was somehow under that guy, in the hole. I’d been blown about 20 feet. A mortar shell came in, and the concussion had blown me into the ditch. I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed.”
Gericke was shipped out for recovery, where he eventually regained all movement. Following his stay in the hospital he returned to his unit and was sent to Okinawa.
“It was the easiest landing we ever had,” he recalls. “We just walked up right on shore. We were amazed, there was no resistance. They’d all pulled down to the other end of the island, where they were waiting for us.”
It was one of the historic landings of World War II. Advancing behind the assault waves the reserves landed. Two battalions of the 1st Marines landed, followed shortly after by the first elements of the Division’s artillery (4th Battalion, 11th Marines). Despite some elaborate after-thinking, there is no evidence that anyone involved in the entire Okinawa landing, from the highest admiral and general there, at Guam, at Pearl, or back in Washington, where plans were hatched, was not totally surprised when the first thrust carried them nearly 3,500 yards into the Okinawa soil.
An unopposed landing was the one event that had not been anticipated at Okinawa. Some of the more superstitious have said the date had something to do with it … April 1, April Fool’s Day. All were sure the Japanese were up to a complex trick. The second day was just as quiet. Casualties for the two days came to three killed, 18 wounded.
The Japanese, however, did attack from the sky.
“That first night on Okinawa we had the biggest armada,” said Gericke, recalling looking out over the bay at the ships. “We looked up, and these Kamikaze pilots would come in and dive right into the ships. Nobody can even imagine that. The big bay, ships all over, explosions all over, it was just like a movie.”
Gericke was also witness to the historical Japanese tactic of cave warfare. The Japanese soldiers would literally go underground, hiding in an elaborate system of caves and tunnels on the island.
“They had some steel doors,” he recalled. “They’d open, fire, then close – we couldn’t get at them. We’d look up, see the openings, and they’d fire, so fast.”
The Marines finally got the upper hand on the Japanese-infested caves, using flame-throwers to either drive the enemies out of their underground hiding spots, or make sure they never saw sunlight again.
“One Japanese general came out, knelt down, took a long dagger and stabbed it in his stomach,” recalled Gericke. “I didn’t see this, but others told me about it. His aide then took the dagger and whacked his head off. That’s what they did when they lost.”
The early quiet on Okinawa did not last very long.
“The fighting kept getting worse and worse the farther south we went,” said Gericke. “Wana Ridge – that’s where I got it. I can still see it. Bullets were flying all over the place. I’m lucky one found my leg instead of my head.”
The shot in the leg instantly knocked Gericke to the ground and out of the war.
“That was it for me,” he said. “The war was over. They took me back in an Amtrack. I was in the back. The whole thing was full of blood, and it was mine. I was laid on a stretcher all the way back. I lost a lot of blood, so they hurried up. When they got me to the aid station they poked me with morphine. I remember I was smoking a cigarette. I took one or two puffs, and that was it. I was out.”
Gericke spent 18 months in the hospital and earned a Purple Heart for his ordeal.
“When I was shot, there was so much action going on,” he said. “We had planes up in the air dropping bombs, rifles were going off, explosions. I got shot from somewhere, but we never were sure from where. The bullet they dug out of me was a big one, 45 caliber. That was the end of my action.”
Gericke and other wounded soldiers were flown to Guam when he was healthy enough to be moved out. Even that trip proved to be a close call.
“We were all so happy to be going there,” said Gericke. “We were trying to get to Hawaii when one of the motors went out. All of us wounded were trying to rip the casts off in case we ended up in the ocean. But we made it to a small island, then went on to Hawaii.
“They were so nice to us at the hospital there. We said the first thing we wanted was bacon and eggs, and, boy, did we get bacon and eggs. We were heroes then. They treated us so well. Not like Vietnam … they spit on those boys. That was wrong.”
A gifted athlete, Gericke had thought of trying baseball. With his leg shattered, however, that dream ended.
“It changed my life completely,” he said. “I could never do sports again.”
When he got back to the mainland, the healing continued for a long time.
“When I came back I went into five different hospitals in the United States,” said Gericke. “I finally ended up at the Great Lakes Naval Hospital north of Chicago. My parents used to come up on a train to see me.”
Finally out of the hospital, he met his wife-to-be, Ruth, after the war.
“I went to work at Northwest National Bank, and that’s where I met her,” he said. “She worked for me for awhile.”
The two shared a room at the nursing home for several years until she passed away.
“He was my boss,” she recalled while she was still with him. “We were married October 9, 1948.”
“That was the end of my rule,” he laughed. “She became the boss then.”
They moved from Chicago to Middle McKenzie Lake in Washburn County in 1952. It was pretty much a wilderness lake at that time, with one rutted dirt road leading in. There, they raised their daughter, Lynn.
“We stayed on that lake for 48 years,” said Gericke. “George Carson was our neighbor. He was in the U.S. Army during the war, fighting Germans. We didn’t ever talk about the war much. A lot of the guys who were there fighting didn’t. This is the first time I’ve talked about it in years. This is bringing back a lot of memories, things I thought I’d forgotten.”
For awhile, it was almost a pioneer existence on Middle McKenzie, especially when the snows of winter closed in.
“During winter we were the only ones on the lake,” he said. “Even George would go back to work in Chicago. I just ice fished. We mainly stayed in after deer season. There was nothing to do. We read a lot. It was so peaceful back then.”
Prior to moving, Gericke had fallen in love with the area during vacation fishing trips. He ran the Forrest Lodge with four cabins for several years. The spelling was intentional, meaning both “Forest” and “For Rest.”
“The World War II guys are going so fast,” said Gericke. “I think it’s up close to 2,000 of us dying a day now.”
He received three battle stars, which he has framed on his wall, signifying the three major battles he fought in. He also kept a book about The 1st Marine Division, The Old Breed, which he occasionally looks at. An avid Chicago Cubs fan, he is still waiting for his beloved baseball team to win a championship.