One of America’s heroes in the Korean War was a horse that was a Marine. With no rider and no escort, the horse—called Reckless—carried munitions to American soldiers on the front line. On her return to the base (also alone), she brought with her the dead or wounded. She was a true hero.

How did the United States…and a horse that was a Marine…find itself in Korea?

The Story Behind the Fighting

Near the end of World War II, the Soviet Union invaded Korea, taking it from Japan. The U.S. feared that the Soviet Union would soon dominate the entire peninsula, so Americans quickly moved into southern Korea.

At war’s end, no country had the energy to work out what to do about Korea, so the U.S. and the Soviet Union agreed to temporarily divide the country along the 38^th parallel.   The North became the Democratic People’s Republic and maintained a communist government. The South set up a democratic republic, calling itself the Republic of Korea. Both entities hoped to dominate the Peninsula one day.

But then in 1950, an act of aggression stirred the ire of the United Nations Security Council. The North Koreans crossed the parallel and marched toward Seoul in late June. President Harry Truman committed American forces to join the United Nations military effort. General Douglas MacArthur was commander.

By 1952, the fighting had accomplished little. Both sides were still entrenched along the 38^th Parallel, still hoping to expand their territory.

That’s how Reckless found herself along the front lines in 1952.

A Horse and Trench Warfare

Horses had not been used in the military in an official capacity since World War I, but one the Marine commander in charge of the Recoilless Rifle Platoon saw a way where one might be helpful.

The border between North and South Korea, was through a mountainous area. For the most part, the men fought from trenches along the ridgeline, but the regiments needed to get into the front line trenches with weapons and ammunition. The terrain was treacherous, and their equipment was heavy.

An efficient weapon used at the time was the recoilless rifle, first introduced at the end of World War II. While fighting in the Korean War also involved more modern weapons, the 75 mm recoilless rifle was perfect for trench warfare. The rifle was deadly accurate, even when the target was 2-3 miles away.

But there were two challenges to using these guns. The rifles themselves were heavy—115 pounds each, and each shell weighed about 125 pounds. For men to get the equipment from the storage areas behind the front lines was very difficult work.

In addition, regiments using this weapon needed to stay on the move. The rifles emitted big puffs of smoke after firing. After 4-5 shots, any rifle platoon had to move to a new location.

Recoilless Rifle Platoon

Lieutenant Eric Pedersen was commander of the Recoilless Rifle Platoon along the border of North Korea. Pedersen’s grandparents owned a ranch in Wyoming, so he knew horses and had a solution for how to move these heavy shells. He wanted a pack animal.

He obtained the necessary permission, and on a day off, he and a companion drove to the former racetrack in Seoul, South Korea. The racetrack was used as an Army air strip, but the barns were still there along with a few horses.

Pedersen wandered through the barns, looking for the right horse. He noticed a young filly that looked strong and sturdy. She was sorel-color with a blaze of white on her face and three white-stockinged legs. He offered the boy with her $250.  He agreed to sell the horse he called Flame.

What type of horse was it? In her well-researched book, Janet Barrett identifies the horses that were raced in Korea at that time as Jeju horses from the Jeju island off South Korea. (“Jejuma” means “short enough to go under fruit trees.”) The average Jejuma horse stands about 44-48 inches (11-12 hands). They are stocky, sturdy animals that are known to be sure-footed and resilient. During the winter they grow very shaggy coats to protect against the cold temperatures in Korea.

Taking the Horse Back to Base

Lt. Pedersen did not have a horse trailer with him but brought a utility cart. It was about 6 feet square, with sides that were about 4 feet tall. There was no drop-down door for loading Flame, so they backed up to higher land so that Flame could be led up an incline and then step down into the cart. They then drove to the base with Blaze in full view.

When they arrived, the men hovered around to see why a horse was brought to camp. Pedersen explained that the horse was as a pack animal—no one was to ride her. He told them that horses could maneuver across the uneven terrain that led to the front lines. Anything Flame carried would ease the burden for the men.

After delegating the responsibility for the horse to his gunnery sergeant, Joe Latham, Pedersen said the men should decide what the horse should be called.

Someone immediately called out that any horse with the Recoilless Rifle Platoon should be named, “Reckless.” All agreed.

Training Reckless

While Reckless had lived by a noisy air strip, the first step in working with her was to let her acclimate. She needed to become accustomed to the sights, smells, and sounds of the battlefield and know what it was like to be near a recoilless rifle when it was fired.

Next, Joe Latham taught her about the hazards she would face. They worked on how she could maneuver through barbed wire and keep her eyes peeled for landmines.

Incoming Fire

Incoming fire was a constant danger even at the base camp. Latham taught Reckless that if he put his hand on her hoof, they should both crouch down. And if she heard men shouting, “incoming!” it was the same thing. Go down or if she was in her paddock, take shelter in her bunker.

Only a week or two after her arrival, the call of “incoming, incoming” was heard. Everyone took cover and when it was clear, the men looked around for Reckless. No one was with her at the time, and they feared she’d been hit. But then one of the men near her paddock saw a nose poking ever so slightly out of her bunker. All was well.

She soon had the run of the camp. She loved being with the men and visiting the mess halls. On cold nights she either slept by the big hot water tanks, or she found her way into one of the tents to join the men.

 The Packsaddle

The packsaddle Pedersen asked his wife to send was a cavalry pack saddle. Pads were held in place by straps that ran across the chest, around the rump, and under the belly.  It was designed to provide cushioning and support cargo without restricting the gait of the animal.

After Reckless became accustomed to the feel of the packsaddle, Latham experimented with adding shells. The shells were long and awkward (see photo). He started with a single shell and worked his way up so that Reckless could carry four or five.

Latham next needed to teach her the route between the ammunition depot and the ridgeline where the men were fighting.

Teaching Reckless the Route

To learn how Reckless was trained to travel her route unaccompanied, author Janet Barrett found a fellow who knew how Latham accomplished it. For several days, Joe Latham accompanied her from the supply depot to the ridgeline. Once Reckless reached the rifle location, she was given praise and a food treat. (Reckless loved to eat.) When she arrived back at the ammunition depot, she received more praise and another treat.

After that, Reckless could traverse the route on her own…carrying shells up to the front line and bringing down the dead or wounded. She always knew the men would be there to reward her.

By January 1953, just three months after having joined the platoon, Reckless was making regular pilgrimages to the front carrying shells. That month she was promoted to corporal.

Battle for Outpost Vegas

The most brutal fighting occurred in March of 1953. Towns called the Nevada Cities (Vegas, Reno, and Carson), were along the 38^th parallel and manned by US Marines.

When an attack from the North was launched on Vegas, the Recoilless Platoon was fully engaged. Throughout this time, Reckless traveled up and down, carrying shells up and wounded men back to base.

They stopped her for food and water and brief periods of rest, but like the men, she worked night and day. Reckless maneuvered across areas where shrapnel was falling, made her way through landmines, and traveled the treacherously narrow pathways above rice paddies.

During the 5-day battle, approximately 1000 Marines were killed. Reckless was injured twice, (once on the rump; another time she was grazed by a shard just above her eye.)  They patched her up and she went back to work.

Reckless’s Battle Record

Pedersen summed up her record during this time: Reckless made 51 trips to the rifle sites, traveling more than 35 miles. She carried 386 of the heavy shells —for a total of about 9000 pounds of explosives. On her return trip to the base, she carried the wounded and dead, never seeming to mind.

The soldiers quickly realized the labor she saved them and all acknowledged that there were times when a man might have been shot if Reckless had not been part of the platoon.

Reckless at Camp

If the men weren’t engaged in the front lines, then they were often stringing communication wire. Reckless also helped there. The men loaded the wheels of wires on her pack saddle, and she was perfectly happy to join the “stringing” teams.

Reckless was a Character

Most of the men took great comfort in having Reckless around. One of the men talked of being on night patrol: “She would trot up to you and you’d pet her a little bit, and sometimes she would walk along with you for awhile. She took you mind off everything else.”

Like every other Marine, Reckless liked to eat. She was fed her allotment of grain, but she had no problem demanding more. The men shared with her some of their mess hall food, their C-rations, and even their beer and whiskey with her.

She also snatched things she shouldn’t have if she felt she needed more attention.  Men lost their hats, their poker chips, and anything else that came in her path, and odds were good that she would eat them.

Author Janet Barrett tells a story of a night when “cherry pie” was listed on a blackboard that provided the dinner menu. But by dinnertime, there was a different—less desired—dessert listed.

In the afternoon, the cook left three large pans of cherry pie to cool on tables behind the mess tent. When the kitchen staff went out to get them, each one had a big bite taken out of the center. Everyone knew the culprit.

Camp Winding Down

As the men were preparing to return to the States, Sgt. John Meyers was assigned to take care of Reckless and got in the habit of bringing her pancakes every morning. On his day off, he neglected to find a substitute. No problem. Reckless located his tent, found him still in bed, and nipped at his arm so that he would get up. She needed her pancakes.

 Promoted Again

In April 1954, Reckless was promoted by one of her biggest fans, General Randolph McCall Pate, commander of the 1^st Marine Division and the highest ranking Marine in Korea Pate promoted Reckless from Corporal to Sergeant, and Reckless received a red and gold blanket with the Marine insignia.

Marines Returning Home

When the Marines began leaving for home, Reckless was not included in the plans. The military felt that transporting her to the States was unnecessary, so they arranged to leave her behind.

But young writer Andrew Geer had served alongside Reckless, and he wrote her story for The Saturday Evening Post. (Geer is also the man who gathered initial stories to document Reckless’s past.)  After the article appeared, there was no leaving Reckless behind. The public clamored for her to be brought stateside.

Among those who read the article was Stan Coppel, an executive with the Pacific Transport Lines. His company operated ships that traveled from Japan to California. If the Marines could deliver Reckless to Yokohama, he would transport her to San Francisco at no charge.

A deal was made. Reckless arrived in Yokohama and boarded a ship for San Francisco. She would arrive just in time for a celebration of the Birthday of the Marines, an event at which she was to be honored.

Reckless and the Birthday Ball

But Reckless had not enjoyed her voyage…she’d been sick and had taken comfort in eating her red and gold blanket.

Her old friend. Lt. Pedersen was assigned to meet her in San Francisco. When he saw she would not be wearing her blanket that displayed her honors, he worked quickly to find someone to make a new blanket where all pins and medals could be displayed.

That solved, Pedersen and Reckless attended the Birthday Ball, and she was even given some of the birthday cake. Reckless saw the event involved beautiful flowers, and decided she ought to eat them, too.

Then it was time for her to become accustomed to American life.

Quarantine?

The Department of Agriculture required that Reckless be quarantined for several months after arrival. Lt. Pedersen negotiated for her to be kept on her own in one of the pastures on his ranch.

After the quarantine, Reckless was transferred to the stables at Camp Pendleton (near San Diego) and served on active duty for six years.

She appeared at all ceremonial events on the base and accompanied the troops on some marches. If an outside organization wanted her to appear, they were asked to donate to the Fifth Marine Scholarship Fund.

Over time, she gave birth to four foals—three of whom lived. Fearless was sold when young. Chesty and Dauntless were used as riding horses at Pendleton.

Final Promotion

In 1959 at a ceremony before 3000 Marines and guests, Reckless received her final promotion. She was promoted to Staff Sergeant by General Pate who was by now commander of the Marine Corps. Following that event, she would retire.

Her list of military decorations is impressive: two Purple Hearts, a Good Conduct Medal, a Presidential Unit Citation with a star, a National Defense Service Medal, a Korean Service Medal, a United Nations Service Medal, a Navy Unit Commendation, and a Presidential citation from Republic of Korea. In addition, she was eligible to wear the French Fourragére (braided cord) military award that the 5^th Marines earned in World War I.

Retirement for Reckless

In retirement, Reckless lived happily in the base stables. She remained popular among the Corps, and those who served in Korea with her often arrived with their families. They wanted them to meet the popular Marine.

When  she died in 1968, she was buried at Pendleton with full military honors. The plaque there reads: “Reckless, Pride of the Marines.”

Statues to Honor Reckless

The first statue in memory or Reckless was introduced in 2013, at the National Museum of the Marine Corps at Quantico, Virginia. The sculpture was made by Jocelyn Russell who chose to depict Reckless making her way uphill with 4 shells strapped to her back.

A copy of this statue was created for Camp Pendleton and put in place in October of 2016. In May 2018, another statue was placed at the Kentucky Horse Park in Lexington, Kentucky.

These were all suitable ways to recognize a horse that lifted spirits as she labored to save lives. Semper Fi.

For another story about a hero in the Korean War, read about Pete Fernandez, an Ace Pilot.

Bill Mauldin was a young artist in World War II who created a cartoon featuring two mud-covered, combat-weary infantrymen, Willie and Joe. Mauldin’s work appeared in U.S. military newspapers where his foxhole-level view of the military brightened the spirits of U.S. soldiers by giving them something to laugh at.

His cartoons were picked up by civilian newspapers in the U.S., so he also provided Americans at home with a better understanding of the day-to-day life of an infantryman.

In 1945 he received a Pulitzer Prize for his work.

William Mauldin’s Background

Bill Mauldin (1921-2003) was born in Mountain Park, New Mexico. According to Mauldin’s obituary that appeared in Stars and Stripes on January 23, 2003, Mauldin started drawing in his early teens after he spotted an ad for a correspondence course in cartooning in Popular Mechanics magazine. He borrowed the $20 tuition from his grandmother. After learning the basics of cartooning, he was accepted at the Academy of Fine Arts in Chicago.

When he left Chicago, Mauldin settled in Phoenix, Arizona, and tried to sell his cartoons. It was slow going, and he needed money. In 1940, he signed up to be part of the Arizona National Guard. Within a few months, a military build-up began, and Mauldin’s unit was absorbed into the Army as part of the 45^th Division. The men were all moved to Fort Sill, Oklahoma, for training.

Communication on Military Bases

Military brass knew that morale improved when everyone on a military base felt they were part of a community. On most bases, a weekly newspaper was an important aspect of that effort. Generally, there were plenty of editors and writers who found themselves in the service, so newspapers were quickly staffed.

The 45^th Division News was the weekly publication at Fort Sill.  Mauldin dropped off some of his military training cartoons, and the editors liked them.  They checked with Mauldin’s superior and requested that in addition to his regular military training he be assigned to serve one day each week working at the newspaper.

This also offered another opportunity for Mauldin. One of his editors submitted Mauldin’s cartoons to a local Oklahoma newspaper. The reaction was so positive that the editor helped Bill syndicate the material. Soon Mauldin’s cartoons appeared in 159 city newspapers across the West. As U.S. entry into World War II seemed closer, Americans everywhere were worried about the war and had family members enlisting. Mauldin’s cartoons helped citizens understand what the men were going through.

Mauldin’s Subjects

Mauldin titled his regular cartoon panel for the 45^th, “Star Spangled Banter.” His subjects always concerned the day-to-day doings of the Army inductee.  Though he helped with the newspaper one day each week, the fact that he continued to  drill with the other riflemen in his unit provided him with excellent perspective to draw what the soldiers were going through.

When the troops from Fort Sill departed for Sicily, the newspaper continued though somewhat less regularly. Mauldin’s cartoons were spotted by an editor at the well-respected military newspaper, The Stars and Stripes. Bill Mauldin’s work was so good that he was assigned to work for the newspaper full-time.

The Characters Willie and Joe

Willie and Joe began cartoon life separately. Joe appeared in cartoon form before Pearl Harbor. At that time, he was clean-shaven and energetic. Then after December 7, 1941 (Pearl Harbor), Mauldin created Willie. The two cartoon soldiers became friends. As Mauldin drew them over the next couple of years, they grew war-weary and resigned to the fact that they might not live beyond the war.

In the cartoon panels, Willie and Joe are almost always miserable–often wet and cold. The cartoons capture the gritty, grunginess of fighting as well as the moments of fear and those of total boredom. All of the scenes are infused with a grim humor. A typical cartoon shows Willie and Joe ducking artillery fire, and Willie says: “I feel like a fugitive from th’ law of averages.”

From Real Life

As one writer put it: “Willie and Joe were the guys who always got sentry duty when it rained…shrapnel in their backside when they left their foxholes, and they dealt constantly with lice, fleas, and terrible food.”

Mauldin drew not the officers but the men “who were doing the dying.”

In one particular cartoon, Joe and Willie are sitting near a battlefield amidst mud and reeds, their feet not visible because of the muck. Willie has something in his hands and says to his buddy: “Joe, yestiddy ya saved my life an’ I swore I’d pay ya back. Here’s my last pair of dry socks.”

Reaction of Officers

The increased circulation of Mauldin’s front-line soldiers brought Mauldin’s work to the attention of the officers, many of whom understood that the cartoons gave release to the GIs’ pent-up feelings.

A few of the top brass, General George Patton among them, strongly objected to the depiction of the grimy bedraggled fighting men. Patton was so incensed that he threatened to halt distribution of Stars and Stripes because of the “unsoldierly” appearance of Willie and Joe.  His superior, General Dwight D. Eisenhower, disagreed. He believed in a hands-off policy on the newspaper, and no one wanted to cross him. However, in deference to Patton’s strong feelings,  he asked that Patton and Mauldin meet to discuss their differences.

Mauldin wrote of the meeting in his book, The Brass Ring.  He relates that Patton berated him for depicting soldiers who “looked like bums.” Mauldin explained his thinking, and the meeting concluded with Patton telling Mauldin “they understood each other now.”

Despite this “understanding,” Mauldin never changed what he drew, and the cartoons continued to appear in the Stars and Stripes.

Later, Patton reportedly said he would “throw Mauldin in jail” if Mauldin ever came back again.

Important to the Men

“The cartoons were not always appreciated by regular officers,” confirmed  Tom Czekanski, senior curator and restoration manager of the National World War II Museum, in New Orleans. “But the citizen soldiers …enjoyed [Mauldin’s] look at the war from their perspective.”

As to what happened to Willie and Joe, Mauldin intended to have them die at the end of the war. His editors fought against it, however. To Mauldin, the two infantrymen were reminders of the pain and suffering by all involved, and he carried guilt from the fact that his success grew from something that was truly so terrible.

While he resisted killing off Willie and Joe, he set them aside in his work. He revived Willie for some freelance articles he wrote in the format of letters to Joe. However, only twice were the pair drawn together again—-once in memory of General George Marshall (1959); the second time after the death of General Omar Bradley in 1981.

After the War

After World War II ended, Mauldin worked for the United Press service for a time and then was hired as an editorial cartoonist working for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.  While in St. Louis, he won another Pulitzer Prize (1959). This one concerned Soviet novelist Boris Pasternak saying to another gulag prisoner: “I won the Nobel Prize for literature. What was your crime?”

In 1960, he moved to The Chicago Sun-Times. One of his most poignant cartoons appeared in that newspaper on November 23, 1963. It depicted the statue of Abraham Lincoln that sits in the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, slumped over in grief cradling his head in his hands. It was the day after John F. Kennedy’s assassination.

He remained at the Chicago newspaper until 1991, but his arthritis became so painful that he gave up cartooning. He retired to a home in his native New Mexico.

Even after retirement, one cartoon tradition continued, however. Cartoonist Charles Schulz was also a World War II veteran and thought the world of William Mauldin. Each year on Veteran’s Day, the two collaborated on a cartoon to run in Schulz’s strip, Snoopy. The last year the commemoration appeared was in 1998. Schulz signed the strip, “Schulz and my hero…” Mauldin’s signature was below.

Mauldin also acted in two films and ran unsuccessfully for Congress in New York in 1956.

Word That He was Ill

A fellow veteran named Jay Gruenfeld, who served in the Pacific and now lives outside Santa Barbara in Lompoc, California, heard that Mauldin was at a veterans hospital in California, suffering from Alzheimer’s. Gruenfeld had good memories of Mauldin’s work. After being injured in the war, Gruenfeld was hospitalized for several months for a serious spinal injury. His father sent him several collections of Mauldin’s work, and Mauldin’s work helped him get through a difficult time.

When he heard that Mauldin was ill, he sent out letters to veteran groups, and he got in touch with two newspaper columnists: Gordon Dillow of the Orange County Register and Bob Greene, a former colleague of Mauldin’s at the Chicago Sun Times.

Veterans Paid Respects

As word filtered out to veterans that Mauldin was quite ill, men stopped by the veterans’ home where Mauldin was staying. They wanted to pay their respects.

Day after day, volunteers arrived wearing parts of their World War II uniform or bringing mementos to share with the man whose view of reality and dry sense of humor helped get them through the war. Soon there were so many visitors that the home introduced a sign-up sheet.

Mike Anton, a reporter for The Los Angeles Times in 2002, wrote that after visiting Mauldin many of them stopped in the lobby and cried.  Anton quoted an administrator saying: “They have a connection to him that’s extraordinary—a connection that I didn’t anticipate.”

As one of the men told Anton for The Los Angeles Times article: “We relied on Mauldin to break the tension for a moment, just a moment. He meant an awful lot to us.”

Funeral at Arlington

In 2003, Mauldin died.  His funeral took place in Arlington National Cemetery on January 31, 2003. The day was gray and cold and drizzly, just the type of day that Willie and Joe endured so often during the war.

After the funeral, one of his sons spoke to a reporter about the regular calls he received every month from veterans checking on his dad. He also noted that one gift from a veteran made him cry: The fellow sent the family a pair of dry socks, just like what Willie gave Joe for saving his life in battle.

Honors

In addition to two Pulitzer Prizes, William Mauldin received many honors throughout his career. In 2010, the United States Postal Service issued a commemorative stamp honoring Mauldin and Willie and Joe. A little humor meant the world to men in the midst of war.

***

To read other stories about World War II, see “Kilroy was Here,” or “World War II and Hollywood.”

Phineas Banning is known as the “Father of the Los Angeles Harbor.” He deserves that title and more. He arrived in the San Pedro/Los Angeles area with nothing in 1851. He found that his calling in addressing the transportation needs of the area. Among his varied businesses, he ran a wagon company, a stagecoach line, shipping barges, and brought in the railroad—all in an effort to get people and goods to Los Angeles.

What few consider is that history might have been different if it hadn’t been for Phineas Banning (1830-1885). Because of the Gold Rush, travelers were scrambling to get to the northern parts of the state. Ships were abandoned in San Francisco harbor, and thousands of people traveled overland by wagon train to get to the gold fields. They all wanted to get rich.

The story in Southern California was different. In the 1850s,Los Angeles was a small village, and access was difficult as there was no deep-water port along the coastline. While ships off-loaded some supplies to barges, it was a cumbersome process to get the goods to shore.

Phineas Banning saw the economic potential for the area, and he devoted his life to fully realizing the possibilities.

Birth and Journey West

Phineas Banning was born in 1830 near Wilmington, Delaware. As the ninth of eleven children, he knew he needed to make his own way in the world. When he was 13, he left home to walk the 30 miles to Philadelphia where two of his brothers worked.

He began as a clerk in one brother’s law office, but he was fascinated by life at the harbor. Another brother worked in the wholesale trade business in offices near the water. Phineas soon switched to work for that brother and began to learn how the port worked and hear the dreams of those who were going West.

When a merchant needed a young man to accompany him on the long ship journey south and then across the Isthmus of Panama before turning north to California. Banning asked for and got the job. The merchant planned to buy goods to sell in the East. (Click here to read about an 11-year-old girl who traveled this route in 1854.)

Change of Plans

Near the coast of Southern California, the ship was seized by debt collectors. The crew was let off near a village called San Pedro.

Banning was always resourceful and picked up whatever work he could. He saw there was money to be made in hauling goods, and he went to work for one of the wagon companies. In the course of this, he met a fellow named David Alexander, and the two went into business together.

Initially, Alexander & Banning had just one wagon making the 20-mile trip from San Pedro to the small town of Los Angeles.  But within two years the men had 15 wagons and 75 mules as well as their own warehouses for storage of the items being transported.

Passenger Service

Passenger service was the next logical way to expand their business, and it was one that appealed to Banning. Banning was a muscular, well-built fellow who liked nothing better than to drive a wagon or stagecoach on what were at that time very challenging, undeveloped roads.

Banning knew that they needed to invest in the right type of stagecoaches in order for passengers to tolerate what could be a very unpleasant ride. In the East, companies were making a coach called a Concord. The most important innovation introduced on the Concord was a suspension system. The carriage part of the stagecoach hung between strong strips of ox hide. This meant a less jarring experience for the horses and a somewhat smoother ride for passengers.

Concords were also practical. There was a flat roof where additional trunks could be secured, and there were many niches where mail and valuables could be stashed for the trips. The makers also added bags of sand over the brake pad. If the team came upon a steep incline, this helped slow the descent.

Building the Stagecoaches

Using the Concord as a model, Banning established a business to manufacture these stagecoaches for the Alexander & Banning Company. Soon the men were running stages and wagons from Los Angeles to San Bernardino, and also carrying goods and people north to the gold fields, the Mojave Desert, and Salt Lake City.

Banning liked few things better than to be able to take a shift as a driver himself. The roads were rough enough that it was not unusual for coaches to tip, but Banning loved the process of driving.

Water Access to the Area

From Banning’s own experience, he knew how important it was to create easier water access to the land. In the early 1850s, he built a rudimentary wharf in San Pedro but foresaw that the key to the future was to deepen the harbor—a costly venture that would require government funds.

But there was no sense waiting until then. Banning knew ways he could make money now. Since San Pedro’s channel was very shallow, he invested in steam tugs and barges that could travel out to larger ships that anchored in deep water. His men would then unload the goods onto the barges and then bring them in to the wharf for final unloading. (They often would then be transported elsewhere by one of Banning’s wagons.) This put San Pedro on the map for shipping.

Growing the Waterfront

Banning had vision, but he often lacked funds. His businesses were generally profitable, but he had to gather other investors since he didn’t have deep pockets or family money himself.

One of those times occurred in 1857. By then, enough traffic came near the harbor that he convinced other businessmen to go in with him to buy 2400 acres of Rancho San Pedro from the Dominguez Family. He then laid out the town of Wilmington, named for the town of his birth, on the south side of the harbor. He continued to invest in harbor improvement and shipping.

Banning also saw that political power was key to funding community services that couldn’t be handled locally.  He got a taste of that in 1858 when he was elected to a one-year term on the Los Angeles Common Council. The Council oversaw the town government, and Banning enjoyed being part of the power structure.

Later his position as a state senator was to be helpful to further development.

Banning Seizes Opportunities

As telegraph lines stretched from East to West, San Francisco—with its proximity to the gold fields—was getting connected rapidly. Banning saw that it was vital bring the communication lines to Los Angeles and San Pedro.

In 1858, telegraph poles were dropped off at Fort Yuma, Arizona.  If someone could bring the poles to the region, the process of stringing the lines could begin. Banning needed a great driver to travel 230 miles from San Pedro to Fort Yuma quickly and bring back a heavy load.

Who better than himself?

He made the round trip in under 13 days, and he secured for himself the job of subcontractor for getting the lines up.

Banning’s critics often went after him for the manner in which he benefited financially from these new ventures, but honestly, he got the work done. Who else was going to do it with the urgency of Banning.

Wilmington During the Civil War

Phineas Banning was a Republican and a staunch Unionist. This was counter to the Confederate-leanings of most of the residents in Southern California.

But Banning had strong opinions. He felt it was vital that the Union put their western supply base in Wilmington. He had the ear of Union General Winfield Hancock, and he and his friend Benjamin D. Wilson sold 60 acres of land in Wilmington to the U.S. government for one dollar apiece.

In return, Banning received the contract to build what became Camp Drum (named for Colonel Richard Coulter Drum). The camp was built over a period of two years and consisted of 19 buildings on the 60 acres; the military used another 37 acres down near the harbor as well.  (Today one building and a powder magazine still stand. The building houses the Drum Barracks Civil War Museum.)

Banning also received the commission for the contract to carry goods from Camp Drum to Fort Yuma—a job his company was well-prepared for.

Of course, bringing military supplies through the area greatly aided in establishing the importance of Wilmington and southern California.

Also in preparation for war, California Governor Frederick Low created a state militia. He made Banning Brigadier General of the First Brigade. The unit was never called for service, but Banning happily accepted the title and was known as the General for the remainder of his life.

More Harbor Work

Banning led a post-war campaign to improve the harbor. By this time he was a state senator, though he needed access to federal money for what he planned. Working through Senator Cornelius Cole in Washington, D.C., Banning and other Wilmington residents campaigned for federal appropriations for harbor improvements. A more effective breakwater was needed, and the harbor dredging needed to begin. (By the late 1890s, the harbor was dredged to a depth of 16 feet, but Banning did not live to see that day.)

Next Stop, the Railroad

Phineas Banning was also well aware that Wilmington and Los Angeles needed to be able to move product and people by rail. Not everyone agreed. Around Wilmington, the ranchers saw no need to vary from their use of horse-drawn wagons. They resented the idea that track would need to be laid across private property.

Banning’s first effort to introduce a rail service failed, but he persisted. With his second push, he received the permissions and some of the state funds needed. His partner on this venture was Henry Tichenor.

In 1869, the same year as the golden spike was placed in Promontory, Utah, Tichenor and Banning started train service from Wilmington to Los Angeles.

But Banning knew that a rail “spur” was of limited use if it didn’t connect with something bigger, and the interstate railroads had other options. Many resented the Southern Pacific (called the “octopus” for its manner of wrapping itself around everything in its path), but Banning saw them as the most likely to favor the route that would include Las Angeles. This of course then increased the value of the Wilmington railroad connector.

As he worked on the deal, he saw that what the Southern Pacific needed was a man to negotiate the right-of-way through Arizona and New Mexico Territories. He became that man.

Without his effort, the story of the rails in Southern California might have gone another way.

Family Life

Phineas Banning loved children, so when he married Rebecca Sanford in 1854, chances are he was optimistic about having a big family. For ten years they lived in various houses around the area, and by 1864, Banning completed the residence where he dreamed of raising his family (now the Banning Residence Museum).

Infant mortality was high in those years, and Rebecca’s health suffered with each pregnancy. She gave birth to eight children but only three survived to adulthood. Those who survived were all sons: William Banning (1857–1946), Joseph Brent Banning (1862–1920), and Hancock Banning (1866–1925).

Sadly for Phineas, he also lost Rebecca to one of the births. She died in 1868 while giving birth. (The graves of many Banning family members can be visited at the Wilmington Cemetery.)

Phineas loved having a full house for entertaining, and he soon married Mary Hollister. They had three children, two of their daughters survived infancy.

Phineas Banning continued with all of his business interests, but in the early 1880s he suffered poor health.  In 1885, he died—he was only 54.

Banning Offspring Carry On Business

William, Joseph and Hancock Banning followed in their father’s footsteps. They became active participants in their father’s businesses. But they also became beneficiaries of their location. Oil was found on much of the property on which Wilmington was built and this was very lucrative. (Residents still keep track of their mineral rights.)

The sons also fulfilled an important dream for their father. In 1859, Banning visited Catalina Island. Banning longed to own the island, but didn’t have the money. However as the island was developed for tourists, Banning’s transport company obtained the exclusive rights to bring tourists and good back and forth from the mainland.

In the late 1880s, the island owner hit on tough times. The deed reverted to the estate of the original owner. In 1891, the Banning sons bought it from James Lick’s estate.

While the brothers all did well financially, they found working as a smoothly running business unit to be difficult. Over the years, they divested themselves of various businesses, including Catalina Island. The island was sold to part-time Pasadena resident William Wrigley in 1919. He saw it as a great place for his Chicago baseball team to come for spring practice.

Banning Legacy

Phineas Banning’s legacy is vast. He was a key member of the group who fought to develop the region economically. Tom Sitton’s book, Grand Ventures, quotes The Los Angeles Daily Herald (August 19, 1879) on Banning: “it is difficult to say just how much this section [region] has been indebted to him. Few men who have made California their homes have shown the dauntless and all-conquering energy of the wheel-horse of Wilmington.”

Then just six years later on March 19, 1885, the Herald published his obituary:

“He saw in the distance the coming greatness of Southern California. And worked wisely to hasten the day of its coronation…He was the embodiment of good humor, a felicitous public speaker and tireless in his labors for promoting public welfare…Like the rest of us he had his faults. He was apt at time to be peremptory and domineering, but his heart was always in the right place.”

*****

Visit Wilmington Today

The Banning Residence is a Greek-Revival Victorian home in the heart of Wilmington. It is now operated as the Banning Residence Museum and plays an  active role in the community.

The Banning property is designated as a Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument and is on the state list of Historic landmarks. It’s also federally listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Fittingly, there is a truly outstanding exhibit about transportation on display at the house. Visit the house but be sure to save time for the exhibit.

The Wilmington Cemetery is just blocks from the Banning home. It was created by Phineas Banning when the need arose to bury their first child. It has been deemed a historic landmark, and in wandering through it, visitors will find Banning family members as well as many other notable residents of Wilmington.

The Drum Barracks Civil War Museum is also only blocks away. It’s another gem well worth visiting.

I owe personal thanks to the citizens of Wilmington. I first joined them for Park Day at the Drum Barracks (sponsored by the Battlefield Trust). We had a wonderful turn-out of citizens of all ages who were there to make their community better.

I had so many questions about Banning and Wilmington that they invited me back for a tour. It was a wonderful day, and Phineas Banning would be proud of the responsibility and concern the community members show for their history and their town. I look forward to my next visit. If you’re in the Los Angeles area, go see what I mean.

Roald Dahl and Walt Disney Studios collaborated to create what became the mascot for the Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASP). She was a fairy-like female gremlin known as Fifinella.

The Gremlins

During World War I, flying was still a new and experimental form of transportation. Planes were primitive, and there was little time for testing them. Within the Royal Air Force, the British often explained their difficult-to-understand flying challenges as being caused by mischievous “gremlins.” This explained the unknown and lifted responsibility from the humans trying their best to make everything work.

Roald Dahl (1916-1990) heard the stories when he became a pilot in the RAF during World War II. In 1940, Dahl was badly injured in an accident, and while he hoped to fly again, blinding headaches grounded him for a time. The RAF sent him to serve as an air attaché at the British Embassy in Washington, D.C.

He regretted being out of the action, but it simplified another issue. He decided to write his first children’s book, Gremlins, drawing from the Royal Air Force myth.

Roald Dahl’s Story

In Dahl’s story, the gremlins are angered when their forest home is razed so that the British government can build an aircraft factory. To express their ire, they tamper with airplane engines: A little tweak here, a little tweak there, and soon, compasses get stuck, fuel gauges no longer work, and the wing flaps freeze before landing.

Gus Gremlin, however, takes the long view. He sees the world situation: Hitler and the Nazis are on a rampage for total domination, and the RAF is fighting that to protect citizens. Gus urges fellow gremlins to mend their mischievous ways and prevails upon RAF pilots to teach the gremlins about plane engines so that they can help the British win the war.

Dahl builds out the community and its characters, giving readers widgets (children of gremlins) and fifinellas, the female counterpart to the gremlins. (The fifinella name was chosen by Dahl who took it from a very popular racehorse that “flew”f around a racetrack).

Gremlin Book Optioned by Disney

The book was published by Random House and soon optioned by Disney Studios. The company planned to make an animated feature based on the story.

Disney Studios began pre-production work for the film, while they waited for the legal department to work out rights. However, because Dahl’s gremlins were based on folklore from the RAF, Disney lawyers could not find a way to secure the rights to the gremlins. The movie would be a major expenditure, and wartime was no time to take a big business risk. The project stalled.

Enter the WASPs

Well-known American pilot Jacqueline Cochran transported planes across the Atlantic and volunteered to help Britain with air transport in Britain before the U.S. entered the war. She saw that England was making use of both male and female pilots. Cochran returned to the U.S., pushing for women to receive assignments from the military.

Finally, the Army Air Force declared that women would fly noncombat military missions within the United States. The women recruited had to be between 21 and 35 years old, in good health, in possession of a pilot’s license, and had logged 500 hours of flight time.

Two separate civilian flying units for women were created:  The Women’s Flying Training Detachment (WFTD) and the Women’s Auxiliary Ferrying Squadron (WAFs). One organization was a training program for incoming pilots; the other was to deliver planes where needed.

In 1943, the two units merged to become the Women’s Airforce Service Pilots. Nancy Harkness Love became the executive director. The women tested aircraft as the planes came off the assembly lines; they ferried the planes to locations where they would be taken overseas; and they trained pilots who were coming into the military. Later, their planes also carried freight and troops that needed to be taken to certain U.S. destinations.

WASP headquarters was in Sweetwater, Texas, but female pilots were also stationed at 120 bases across the country. This made them accessible for pick up and delivery of planes and supplies throughout the U.S.

Needed a Mascot

Like all military units, the WASPs needed to keep up morale. Though women wanted to serve, many of the pilots had young children. With husbands and fathers overseas, the women worried about all that they left at home.

A public relations woman named Byrd Howell Granger knew that building morale started with good communication. When the war started, Granger left her public relations firm in New York City to help in the war effort. She signed up for the WASPs and went through one of the first cadet training classes.

Her background in public relations meant she was tied into the New York business world. She heard about a children’s book about the Royal Air Force that was intended to become an animated film by Walt Disney Studios. The book was getting great reviews. Even Eleanor Roosevelt wrote about reading it to her grandchildren.

Contacted Disney Studios

Right after the holidays in 1942, Granger wrote to the Disney company for permission to use the name, Fifinella, as well as an image of the female gremlin.  By the end of January 1943, she had a telegram from company vice president Gunther R. Lessing. He granted permission for the unit to use the name, Fifinella. He also sent along an illustration from pre-production that he thought would work as an insignia or mascot.

The image sent shows an illustration of a smiling, curly-horned fairy coming in for a landing. She is wearing a yellow flight cap and pants, red top and red boots, and topped off with sports goggles and long black gloves.

Dahl and Disney

After Granger included the design in the newsletter, the women began making their own patches. This meant that there were many variations on the theme. (During wartime there was no time to mass-produce the patch.) The women who sold well often made 25-50 of them and sold (or gave) the extra patches to others.  No matter, everyone recognized that the patches were “fifinella” and knew that any woman wearing it was a WASP.

Fame Grows

During World War II, nose art for the planes was very important in maintaining good spirits among the military, and airman Tony Starcer was among the most highly-respected painters. In April 1944, Starcer drew a Fifinella on a B-17. He painted her astride a bomb, wearing a red coat and purple trousers.

With that, the Fifnellas achieved military folklore status.

WASP Disbanded

In October 1944, Commanding General Hap Arnold of the Army Air Force sent a letter to all WASP members, explaining that the group would be disbanded:

“I am very proud of you young women and the outstanding job you have done as members of the Air Forces team. When we needed you, you came through and have served most commendably under very difficult circumstances.

“The WASP became part of the Air Forces because we had to explore the nations total manpower resources and in order to release male pilots for other duties. Their very successful record of accomplishment has proved that in any future total effort the nation can count on thousands of its young women to fly any of its aircraft. You have freed male pilots for other work, but now the war situation has changed and the time has come when your volunteered services are no longer needed. The situation is that if you continue in service, you will be replacing instead of releasing our young men. I know that the WASP wouldn’t want that. [Bold added.]

So, I have directed that the WASP program be inactivated and all WASP be released on 20 December 1944.”

With that news, the women’s service came to an end.

Time Moved On

After the war, two major changes occurred in the U.S. military. In September 1947, the Air Force and Army became separate branches. And in 1948, the Women’s Armed Services Integration Act passed. This meant that women served as permanent regular members of the military. A few of the WASPs became WAFs (Women in the Air Force). This gave them permanent status in the regular and reserve forces of the Air Force.

As for Fifinella

And while patches, pins, pictures, and posters depicting Fifinellas can still be found in museums and on eBay, the need for them as a mascot is no longer.

But next time your Internet goes out or your cell phone call gets dropped, you’ll know that fifinellas and gremlins are still all around us just waiting to be noticed.

Hazel Ying Lee broke barriers by becoming the first female Chinese-American pilot to fly for the military during World War II.

Women were not permitted by the U.S. military to fly overseas missions, but they assumed responsibility for the work in the continental United States. This freed men to be available for flying duty in both the European and Pacific theaters.

Ying Lee was a member of what became known as the Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASPs). Initially, the main responsibility of the women was delivering planes to needed locations. Later, they began flying some transport planes to move men to the coasts to board ships to go overseas. Eventually, a select few—including Hazel Ying Lee—were trained for towing targets to give gunners added firing practice. And in 1944, Hazel Lee and a few others were selected to fly “pursuit” planes so that military pilots could practice flying defensively.

About Hazel Ying Lee

Hazel Ying Lee (1912-1944) was born in Portland, Oregon, to parents who emigrated from China. Her father ran a store in Portland. Her mother occasionally helped with the business, but her primary occupation was taking care of their eight children.

Hazel and her siblings attended local schools. After high school graduation, she took a job as an elevator operator in a department store, one of the few jobs open to Chinese women at that time. The following summer when she was 19, she and a friend attended an air show where they ran into a friend who was giving rides in his airplane. Both Hazel and the friend accepted the invitation, and after that, Hazel was hooked. She wanted to become a flier.

She resolved to save some of the money she earned as an elevator operator so that she could take flying lessons that were being offered in Portland by the Chinese Benevolent Society.

Chinese Concern Over Mainland

Perhaps one of the reasons the Benevolent Society sponsored flying lessons was because mainland China was under attack by Japan. In 1931, the Japanese military invaded and occupied Manchuria. From there, the Japanese fought their way to Jehol, a northern province in China. Because of these incursions by the Japanese, many Chinese-Americans returned to China to offer assistance.

After Hazel received her pilot’s license, she, too, decided she wanted to help. She saw value in being an example to young Chinese girls that women don’t have to be limited in what they do, but she also hoped the Chinese Air Force would let her fly.

She soon learned the Chinese military accepted no women as pilots, but she was given a desk job in Canton, China. Occasionally, she was used to fly commercial freight flights. (Her future husband, also from Portland, served for several years with the Chinese Air Force.)

Fighting Continues

As the Sino-Japanese fighting worsened, citizens in the eastern sections of the country were in grave danger. In 1937, the Japanese Army invaded the city of Nanking, brutally murdering several hundred thousand civilians, and sexually assaulting 20-80,000 women. Canton was also bombed.

Canton, where Ying Lee, worked was also bombed. Hazel helped friends and acquaintances with what they needed to reach safety in Hong Kong, then she, too, departed from China.

From Hong Kong, Ying Lee traveled to Washington, D.C. Her language proficiency and knowledge of the ongoing fighting made her well-qualified for a government job buying war materials that were then sent on to China.

U.S. War Readiness

Even before Pearl Harbor, the United States was readying for the possibility of war. The military knew they did not have enough pilots for a war on two fronts. Training qualified enlisted men was part of a solution, but Army Air Force Commander Henry Arnold was still worried.

When civilian pilot Jacqueline Cochran set up a meeting with him to discuss adding women to flight corps, Arnold resisted. Cochran pointed out that even if he wouldn’t let them fly overseas, women could be used on the homefront, freeing men to be sent overseas.

Despite his hesitation, Arnold came around to understanding it was a necessary step.

Women Flight Corps

Arnold empowered Cochran to assemble the unit. Women between the ages of 21-24 could apply for service if they had a high school diploma and a flying license.

One thousand eight hundred thirty women were accepted into the program. A little over a thousand of them earned their wings.

As Cochran encouraged women to sign up, she was unable to convince the military to include them in their ranks. The women—like the 6888^th Central Postal Battalion in World War II and the telephone operators used in World War I—were considered civilians. They would not be eligible for any military benefits during or after their service. They were also required to cover their own expenses, paying for room and board as well as their own uniforms.

Program Begins

Stateside, the military needed pilots to fly newly-built airplanes (more and more were coming off the assembly lines) from factories to U.S. military bases or to ports where they were loaded on to ships to go overseas. At that time, the unit was known as Women’s Flying Training Detachment (WFTD).

As the war continued and the women gained responsibility, the organization changed its name. In 1943, the organization became known as the WASPs (Women Airforce Service Pilots).

Ying Lee’s Experience

Though all women came in with the required pilot’s license, additional training was still needed. An all-women’s flight school was established at Avenger Field, in Sweetwater, Texas. After 6 months of training for military flying, the women were ready for assignment.

After her training, Hazel Ying Lee was assigned to the Third Ferrying Group, based in Romulus, Michigan, where many new aircraft were being made. From Romulus, the women delivered the planes to ports on both the West and East coasts. The planes were then loaded onto transport ships for the longer trip overseas.

The trips weren’t easy. Many of the

planes had open cockpits meaning that the women were often quite cold on their assignments. In addition, planes in the 1940s did not fly as quickly as they do today, and few flew at night. Lights were covered or dimmed throughout the country in case of a mainland attack. The women frequently were required to stop overnight.

Hazel is described by other WASPs as fun to have on the long transport journeys. She had a good sense of humor and loved telling stories. She also cooked, introducing American women to something that most had never had—Chinese food.

Fellow WASP Sylvia Dahmes Clayton is quoted in an article posted on the website of the National Constitution Center: “Hazel provided me with an opportunity to learn about a different culture at a time when I did not know anything else. She expanded my world and my outlook on life.” [The National Constitution Center article]

Crash Landing in Kansas

Even within the continental U.S. flying was far from safe. The planes leaving the factories were untested until the women took them up, and the safety mechanisms of the day cannot begin to compare with today.

Hazel Lee wrote of one of her adventures for an issue of the WASP newspaper, The Avenger (6-28-1943). Flying over Kansas, she began to have engine trouble so she looked for a place to bring down the plane. Farmland stretched below her. She cut her engine and glided down into a field. As she fiddled around in the cockpit trying to see what might have gone wrong, a farmer carrying a pitchfork ran toward the plane, yelling at her.

When she began to get out of the cockpit, he was even more alarmed. He determined that the Japanese had landed in his very own field! Hazel pointed to her uniform and the markings on the plane, trying to help him understand she was American.

As he neared her and stopped yelling, he finally said, “Are you a China gal or Japanese gal?” She answered, “China gal,” and this began to calm him down.

He eventually agreed to take her back to his farmhouse so she could phone the base and let them know where she was and that she would n

eed help removing the plane from the field.

Time Out for a Wedding

Hazel Ying Lee and another Portland resident had fallen in love. While she was flying with the WASPs, her “intended” was still fighting the Axis as a pilot for the Chinese Army.

When Major Lin Jeung Louie had leave, he returned to the U.S. to see Hazel. They must have determined that there was no need to wait to marry. In October of 1943, the couple married at the Marble Collegiate Church on Fifth Avenue and 29^th Street in New York City.

Because the marriage of two pilots was no ordinary story—and likely because it was a happy story—their wedding made news in many newspapers across the country.

Pursuit School

In 1944, Hazel Ying Lee was selected for “Pursuit School.” Only 134 women out of the thousand women in the program had the prior flying experience they needed that would permit them to enter this program. These women were trained on faster, high-powered fighters such as the P-63 Kingcobra, P-51 Mustang, P-39 Airacobra. (Lee’s favorite was the Mustang.)

Flying pursuit was an important assignment as it permitted male pilots to practice flying defensively as they were being chased. It would have been a high-risk flying assignment.

Tragic Accident

In November 1944, Hazel Lee and several other women picked up P-63 Kingcobra planes in Michigan to deliver elsewhere. Hazel was to fly to Great Falls, Montana, with her plane. There, male pilots would retrieve the planes and take them to Alaska where Soviet pilots collected them to fly back to the Soviet Union as part of the Lend-Lease program between the two countries.

Thanksgiving week, a storm halted flights into Montana. Ying Lee, along with a few other pilots were holding on the ground in Fargo, North Dakota. On Thanksgiving morning, the storm lifted. Air controllers began calling in the planes that had been en route.

Hazel flew in and was cleared to land but something went wrong. Whether the controller told her to abort or whether something on the ground alarmed her, Ying Lee turned her nose up knowing she would have to go around again for another landing.

As she pulled up, she and another fighter plane collided. Both pilots managed to bring down their planes, but both planes were engulfed in fire. Rescue teams came in and pulled both pilots to safety. Ying Lee died of her burns three days later. She was 33.

Because WASPS were classified as civilians, she received no veterans benefits, death insurance, or military honors.

More Bad News for the Lee Family

In Portland, the family news was doubly sad. Three days after her parents learned of Hazel’s death, they were notified that their son Victor, who was in the U.S. Tank Corps in Europe, had also been killed.

Like other families of that day, the Lees purchased burial plots as part of their planning for the future. They chose a beautiful location at Portland’s River View Cemetery with a scenic view of the Willamette River.

As they prepared to bury two of their beloved children, the cemetery administrators informed them that the land they owned was now restricted to “whites only.” Hazel and Victor would need to be buried elsewhere.

The family did not take kindly to the news. They knew their children gave their lives for an American cause. They deserved the burial the family planned. The cemetery administrators held their ground for a time, but soon they realized that public sentiment was against them. The family was permitted to use the intended land.

WASP Recognition

Since the time the organization was formed, Jacqueline Cochran and others fought for WASPs to be given full military status, but this effort took decades.

Finally, in 1977, the members of WASP were designated as veterans, and in 2010, President Barack Obama presented a Presidential Medal of Honor to the Women Airforce Service Pilots, saying: “Every American should be grateful for their service.” He noted that the women courageously answered their country’s call in a time of need. They also blazed a trail for the brave women who have given and continue to give so much in service to this nation.

The following year, 2011, Hazel Ying Lee was inducted into the Pioneer Hall of Fame.

Her life demonstrated that Chinese women need not be passive. They, like other women around the world, could compete and succeeded in a male-dominated field.

But for Hazel Ying Lee, it was always all about the flying.

Nearly a quarter of the men who fought for America in World War I were foreign born, including many Asian Indians who arrived in the U.S. seeking education, a better life, and freedom from British domination of India.

It is no surprise that people from India made their way to the United States. Goods from that part of the world, including cotton, indigo, silk, maize, tobacco, spices, and opium, were imported from there as early as the colonial era. It was only natural that the people would come, too.

Why They Served

Almost 40 different ethnic groups served in the U.S. military during World War I. Each group had their own reasons for answering America’s call. For Asian Indians in America, military service to protect civil life was part of India’s heritage. It was felt that the rigors of military training taught punctuality, courtesy, dignity, faithfulness in performing duties, and thereby, established good character. (The Reveille, January 1909.)

In another publication, the editor of Young India (October 1918, volume #10) wrote: “We hope the majority will not shrink from joining the army.” The British Consulate announced that exemptions from service could be made for British citizens in the U.S., but the editorial noted: “There is nothing like being a unit of a democratic force, fighting for democracy, with equal chances of promotion and advancement regardless of colour, creed, and caste.”

Representing a different interest, press baron William Randolph Hearst used his newspaper empire to advocate that newcomers should go to war for their new country to spare Americans. Hearst wrote that if we send “All-American” boys to the Western Front, these “birds of passage” — will take American jobs and toil in profitable safety while “real Americans” die in France.

Others saw service as a tool of assimilation. Franklin D. Roosevelt, then assistant secretary of the Navy, said: “The military tent will rank next to the public school among the great agents of democratization.”

In his work for the World War I Commission, Tanveer Kalo assembled names of many soldiers who served the U.S. during the war.  Many of the Asian Indians went on to be dignified members of their community—the kind of people who represent all that is good in this country.

Here are three of their stories:

Dr. Karm Chandra Kerwell: Physician

Dr. Karm Chandra (K. C.) Kerwell was born in 1889 in Lahore, Punjab, British India. He came to the United States to study medicine, enrolling in the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor.

While still a medical student, Kerwell signed up for the Michigan National Guard. During that time, he was sent with his unit to serve along the Mexican border. Later, when the U.S. was clearly going to enter World War I, Kerwell enlisted in the U.S. military (July 1917). By then he was 28.

After the war, Kerwell returned to Ann Arbor to complete his degree, and he heard of a job opening in the upper peninsula of Michigan. The Spanish flu was spreading throughout the U.S., and a doctor in Stephenson, Michigan, needed help.

Dr. Kerwell remember the date of his arrival in Stephenson—December 14, 1919. He noted that the temperature was 15 degrees below zero, and the ground was covered with four feet of snow. In an article published in a Green Bay newspaper (Green Bay Press-Gazette) Kerwell told the reporter he had planned to stay for a couple of years and “then look for a job in a better climate.”

As it happened, he stayed for a lifetime.

What Kerwell Found in Stephenson

The Green Bay Press-Gazette featured an extensive interview with Dr. Kerwell in 1970. The community was honoring him for a lifetime of service. In the article, Kerwell reminisces about what Stephenson was like when he arrived in 1920.

The town was a remote logging town that was hard hit by the Spanish flu then. But pneumonia, logging accidents, and new babies also kept Dr. Kerwell and his employer, Dr. Sawbridge, busy.

Kerwell was proud of owning a Model T in the early 1920s, but he rarely got to use it. Though house calls were the norm at that time, roads were bad. Dr. Kerwell and Dr. Sawbridge frequently traveled by horse and cutter in the winter or by team and surrey in better weather.

Because of travel difficulties, surgery and births were generally managed in the home. The doctors always carried their surgical equipment with them. They would then rig up the best lighting available and carry out the procedure, usually in the kitchen.

Getting the Doctor

In 1920, Stephenson did not yet have telephone service. Word had to be sent to town, or sometimes when the doctor arrived at one house, he would be told that another neighbor also needed him. Occasionally, train crews carried messages from station to station until the information reached Stephenson. Only then would the doctor know to start his trip to see the patient.

In 1931, one of Kerwell’s cases made news. In an incident reminiscent of William Tell, a younger sibling agreed to let his 17-year-old brother shoot a glass bottle off his head. The older brother marked off 10 paces and turned to fire his rifle. He missed the bottle but not by much. The bullet grazed the head of the younger boy, embedding in his scalp. Dr. Kerwell treated the wound, and the boy recovered. (Ironwood Daily Globe)

Despite his original intention to move on, Dr. Kerwell came to love the area. He joined the Mid-County Men’s Club, the Twin City Medical Society, Stephenson Masonic Order, and the Michigan Medical Society.

He married in 1932, and in 1937, he and his wife adopted twins. They owned a cottage near Shaker Lakes where he loved to hunt and fish.

Dr. K.C. Kerwell died at age of 83 on October 6, 1972. He is buried at the Stephenson Township Cemetery.

Colonel Pashupati Joseph Sarma: Surgeon

Colonel Pashupati Joseph Sarma was born 1893 in Calcutta, British India. During his teen years in India, he became politically active, writing and speaking out against British rule. The British police, aware of Sarma’s published writings, pursued him.

Sarma knew he was in imminent danger, so without telling his family, he traveled to Bombay and found work aboard a ship sailing for Europe. Just before departure, he was able to get a letter off to his mother, explaining where he was and promising that he would bring honor to the family.

The overseas trip on the ship, the Mauretania, changed his life. According to his grandniece who shared memories of her relative with Tanveer Kalo of the World War I Commission, Sarma was befriended on the trip by a British doctor. The doctor was on his way to America, and encouraged Sarma to continue on rather than debarking in England as Sarma intended. The doctor assured Sarma that the United States offered more opportunity.

Arrival in New York

Sarma was 20 in 1912 when he arrived in New York. He knew an education was important and found work to pay for college and medical school. In 1916, he graduated from Hahnemann Medical School in Philadelphia with training as a surgeon.

He served in the medical corps of the U.S. Army during World War I. By the time of his discharge, he was a First Lieutenant. He also opted to remain in the military reserves.

After the war, he lived in Chicago. He married, had a private surgical practice, and was on staff at various medical institutions in the area, including Loyola Medical Center and later, the University of Illinois College of Medicine, among others.

Sarma and his wife remained in close contact with his family in Calcutta. They provided financial help for several members of the family to come to the U.S. for an education.

In 1941, Sarma was among the reservists called to active duty. He was sent to Camp Barkeley Hospital at Fort Sam Houston in Texas, to be in charge of the surgical department. The hospital was one of the largest military hospitals in the U.S. during the war.

In late 1942 while still serving in Texas, Colonel Sarma had a heart attack and he died on January 21, 1943. He is buried at Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia.

Nikanth Chavre: Automotive Engineer and Business Speaker

Nikanth Ramchadra Chavre was born in Vaduj (a small village near Kolhapur), British India in 1895. He arrived in the United States in February of 1916. Chavre made his way to Ann Arbor, Michigan where he studied engineering at the College of Engineering and Architecture at the University of Michigan. In 1917, Chavre, still an engineering student, registered for the draft and joined the Student Army Training Corps.

After the war, Chavre returned to Michigan and got a job working for the Columbia Motor Company in Detroit. He married around that time, and he and his wife soon departed for a two-year stint in Bombay, British India. His return to India led to a connection with Mathatma Gandhi, who was working to liberate India from British rule. This gave him fresh perspective and knowledge of the country of his birth. Later, he brought this perspective as a speaker back to the U.S.

Upon returning to Michigan, he was recruited by Ford Motor Company for a five-year project in the Soviet Union. He was hired to travel there to provide technical support in building the Gorkovsky automobile manufacturing plant.

After this assignment, Chavre returned to the U.S., this time settling in Foster, Ohio, where he worked as a civil engineer. In Ohio, he became active with the local Rotary Club. During the 1940s and 1950s, he traveled on behalf of the club, speaking to other Rotary Clubs on international business issues, and also conducting leadership training on these trips.

Chavre also created a scholarship program for Indian women to come to the University of Michigan to study engineering.

Nilkanth Ramchandra Chavre died in Seattle, Washington, in December of 1972.

They Are Patriots

In reading about just three of the many foreign immigrants that served the U.S. in World War I, we are reminded of the words of the late John McCain:

“We should all be guided by the principle that any American who wants to serve our country and is able to meet the standards should have the opportunity to do so – and should be treated as the patriots they are.”

***

For more information on some of the immigrants who served in World War I, click here.

And to read about other soldiers from WWI who are featured on this site, start with Henry Johnson.