VETERANS RECALL POIGNANT MOMENTS OF WAR

When asked to tell their World War II stories, Jim Warden, Everett Blaylock and Dwight Dodson handle their tales like delicate fruit, cautious about the peeling process.

And when asked what they did to receive numerous bronze and silver stars for their wartime efforts, the Missouri Veterans Home residents seem to neither know nor care.

"I hope you're not going to portray me as a hero in this thing because there were no heroes in that war," said Dodson, who was an Army surgical technician during the war. He speaks with conviction from his room at the veterans home in Cape Girardeau.

The veterans believe there were only soldiers who aspired to survive, all of whom were left to deal with memories not easily brought to the surface.

Dodson had already returned to his hometown of Cape Girardeau when he learned the war in Europe was over May 8, 1945. "It was over for me as soon as I got home," Dodson said with a pensive look. "I didn't have to wait until it was announced to know the end was near."

He knew victory was imminent when American soldiers liberated him and thousands of others from a prison camp in Germany.

As he talked, Dodson discarded his shoes and revealed the consequences of severe frostbite from his stay in the cold and damp prison that became his dark world for several months.

The same feet that treaded terrain during the Battle of the Bulge were forced to march for several days to the prison camp. "You probably wouldn't believe how long we went without rations," Dodson said. "We were forced to surrender, because there was nothing left to eat. And then we had to go days without food on our march to the prison."

Those who withered from malnutrition literally dropped from the ranks.

"There was nothing you could do for them," he said. "You had to keep marching or face death." A look of pain creased Dodson's otherwise benign facial features at this.

Dodson's feet are swollen and purple. However, knowing he is within a few miles of friends and family gives him a sense of tranquility.

"In the beginning, I didn't have as much trouble walking on my feet as I did later on," Dodson said. "The government didn't seem to think I qualified for disability then, but now they're making up for it by giving me 110 percent. I can pay for my room here, and I've got friends."

Warden, Blaylock and Dodson will be among several veterans of World War II who will participate in a Victory Day commemorative ceremony today at the Veterans Home. The ceremony is scheduled to begin at 1:15 p.m.

Blaylock, an Army radio operator, was in Seoul, Korea, when he heard the war in Europe was over. "I remember the noise from the celebration," he said. He wears a red, white and blue Missouri Veterans Home cap.

The noise from the celebration over the Allied victory in Europe was nothing compared to what Blaylock and his Army buddies later generated when they learned Japan had surrendered.

"We fired our automatic rifles into the air so long that the barrels bent from the heat," Blaylock said, thrusting his index finger into the air as he recalled the moment. His demeanor glows with deep satisfaction.

When he learned the Japanese surrendered, Blaylock said, "I couldn't believe it." It wasn't until he read the military newspaper Stars and Stripes, however, that Blaylock learned about the atomic bomb.

"It felt good to know we finally beat 'em," Blaylock said, poking his heart with his right thumb. "Some of them Japs refused to surrender, you know. They retreated into caves and were willing to be killed rather than give up. They fought hard, real hard. Everybody did."

Warden, a native of Flat River who later moved to Potosi, was in Germany when he learned the Germans were vanquished. "I don't remember exactly where I was or what I did," he said, patting the corner of his mouth with a napkin, an oft-repeated gesture after suffering a stroke in 1979.

Like his contemporaries at the veterans home, Warden, who was an Army field artillery gun crewman, is careful not to romanticize his experiences in World War II.

He keeps adjusting the back of his mechanical wheelchair. He maneuvers the wheelchair in a pacing manner, perhaps needing a running start to remember what happened 50 years ago.

After a few moments, he decides to turn his back on the Chicago Cubs game on television to give his personal account of the war. He speaks with a look of sadness. "There are way too many war movies to watch," he said.

Warden learned he would be leaving for Europe just after being sentenced for returning late to the barracks one night. "I was supposed to serve 30 days in jail and lose a month's pay," he said. "I lost the pay but never served any time, because my ship was leaving."

He would return home a richer man. "I played blackjack all night on the boat on our trip back home," he said. "I was never lucky at cards before that night. I ended up winning $3,000 and loaned a lot of it out to my buddies. Some paid me back. Some didn't."

That doesn't seem to bother Warden. "I was just glad to be back. Only once did I actually see the enemy when we were shooting." But once was enough. "It's nothing like what people might think. There's no excitement to war, just the need to do your job and survive."

All three not only survived, they lived to tell the tale with courage, honesty and dignity. That is what they treasure to the core. It means more to them than any medal or award for heroism ever will.