Former United States Senator Bob Dole (R-Kansas) died this past weekend.
For many the 98 year-old Dole is remembered for an unsuccessful presidential campaign, but that doesn’t really do the man justice.
Having covered his time in the Senate, and his failed presidential campaign, I knew him to be a good senator, excellent storyteller, and one of those rare, high-profile politicians with the ability to laugh at himself.
But there was a lot more to the Dole story than politics.
He was a solid athlete, competing on the University of Kansas’ baseball, football and track teams before World War II began. He enlisted in the Army, and in 1945 was severely wounded in Italy. Temporarily paralyzed from the neck down by a German artillery shell, he recovered-mostly- but was known for holding a pen in his hand to mask the permanent damage to his right arm.
He served in the Senate with another fellow veteran, Daniel Inouye, but their friendship began long before either entered the Senate. They met and became friends while recuperating from their combat wounds. Both worked throughout their careers to make certain our veterans and active duty service members received both the care -and recognition- they so deserved.
In the 1990s, there were lots of World War II veterans in Washington. Not anymore.
George H.W. Bush, Inouye, and now Dole are part of Washington’s history. And their fellow WWII veterans are dwindling as well.
The Department of Veterans Affairs says just over 240,000 of the more than sixteen million Americans who served in World War II were still alive as of September 30.
An estimated 234 of them are dying each day.
Before long, the last living links to World War II will be gone, along with their insights into our history. I feel that loss because my generation is the last direct link to them. My childhood is filled with recollections seeing the “souvenirs” they’d brought home from their adventures in far-flung parts of the world.
One of my most treasured personal possession is a well-traveled Kabar worn on the web belt of two generations of family soldiers before me. I’ve hunted, fished, camped and traveled the world with it, always confident in the fact it had never let them down in far more demanding conditions that I was likely to encounter.
It might seem odd one to be writing about a World War II veteran’s passing over the weekend today, but it’s not.
Eighty years ago today, the United States Naval Base at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii was turned into a cauldron of destruction. Archival photo with permission.
Eighty years ago today, December 7, 1941, the United States found itself compelled into World War II.
While we had been supporting the Allied efforts in Europe, and had enacted sanctions against Japan to stop their expansion across the Pacific, the United States had never entered directly into the hostilities.
Shortly before 8 a.m. Pacific time, hundreds of Japanese fighter planes ended our time on the sidelines, as they attacked the U.S. Naval Base in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.
When they finished, 20 vessels including eight battleships and hundreds of planes had been destroyed. Twenty-four hundred service members had been killed, with another 1,000 wounded.
American naval forces in the Pacific had been devastated.
The Japanese strategy was simple: destroy the American Pacific Fleet.
In their minds, that would be enough deter the U.S. from interfering with further Japanese expansion across the South Pacific.
It was a classic strategic error. Instead of slowing the United States, their “sneak attack” became “a date which will live in infamy.” The United States transformed, almost overnight, from a primarily agricultural country to a manufacturing juggernaut.
Today in Pearl Harbor there’s a special commemorative ceremony honoring the service and sacrifice of our WWII Veterans.
