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Another one bites the dust.

Maggot

"For we wrestle not against flesh and blood"
Supporter
Full Member
Minuteman
  • Jul 27, 2007
    25,907
    29,199
    Virginia
    Jarvis Richards, gas station owner and WWII veteran, dies

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    Jarvis Richards was a World War II veteran who owned several gas stations in the Chicago area. (Family photo)
    Joan Giangrasse KatesChicago Tribune

    As a staff sergeant with the U.S. Army's 1st Ranger Battalion during World War II, Jarvis Richards was leading a small platoon through a village in Belgium when he and his men came under Nazi fire.

    After an intense firefight, Richards and three American soldiers were taken prisoner and lined up against a wall with guns pointed at them, according to his family. "He thought it was all over," said his daughter, Darlene Schofield.

    But, as he later told it, a tank rolled up and out climbed a German officer, who ordered the soldiers to hold their fire. He motioned Richards over, and with the help of a translator, conducted a brief interrogation, Schofield said.

    The Americans were taken to a nearby Nazi prisoner camp, where Richards withstood hard labor for several months before escaping and meeting up with Allied forces, Schofield said.
    "He had a lump on the side of his head that never went away from the butt of a gun," she said.

    Richards, 93, of Schiller Park, a decorated World War II veteran , died of natural causes May 12 at The Grove of Northbrook, an assisted living facility, his family said.

    As a prisoner of war, Richards slept in a dilapidated shack, was unable to bathe and was given minimal daily rations of cabbage soup and a potato. "He was skin and bones by the time he escaped," his daughter said.

    "He was my hero," said Marvin Hanks, a Vietnam veteran who, for the past year, each month, has with his dog, Brandy, visited Richards at his bedside as part of the Lutheran Church Charities Kare 9 Military Ministry program.
    "Brandy would put his paws on the bed and rest his head against Jarvis' arm," Hanks said. "Jarvis would smile and say, 'Hello, baby!'"

    Born in Evanston and raised in Wilmette, Richards was a graduate of the Glenwood School for Boys, a military academy. After serving in the National Guard, he joined the Army in 1943, trained with the 1st Ranger Battalion and was sent overseas. [IMG2=JSON]{"data-align":"none","data-size":"full","src":"http:\/\/www.trbimg.com\/img-591c9a29\/turbine\/ct-chicago-2017-notable-deaths-20170111\/400\/400x225"}[/IMG2]
    Newsmakers and celebrities with Chicago ties who died in 2017.
    Upon his military discharge in late 1945, Richards moved to California, where he lived for several years, before returning to the Chicago area. He owned and operated gas stations in Chicago and Glenview, and worked as a truck driver in construction before retiring.

    "We owe guys like Jarvis a lot," Hanks said. "It's because of them that as Americans we're free today."

    Survivors also include a son, Jarvis Jr., a daughter, Jacqueline; a brother, Oliver; and three grandchildren.

    Services were held.
     
    I read on the net that of the 16 million soldiers that served all throughout WW2, only a little over 600,000 are left alive and are dying at a rate of of a little under 400 every day. So by all means, if you're fortunate enough to meet one of these surviving Heros, be sure to thank them and shake their hand, because you might not ever get the opportunity to do so ever again.
     
    One of the best perks of my job is getting to see these guys daily and speak with them. Not many left, and I lose more each day. Mostly Vietnam era guys coming thru my clinic now, but man o man some of these WWII vets will open up if you just take the time to stop, say screw the schedule, and just listen to them. I'm not sure if its because I'm a former grunt that they feel comfortable opening up or if its just that they know time is ticking and they want to tell their stories to someone. I still see a Bataan death march survivor, a Liberator gunner who was shot down over Romania and taken POW near the end of the war, Marines from island hopping campaigns (I'm especially interested in listening to them since my grandfather was on Iwo Jima), and others. I got to know the nicest, most unassuming man who turned out to have been with the 501st and made two combat jumps one of them being Normandy. He has passed now, but he always told me "We were just dumb scared kids who didn't know any better." I know that even if he and those other "kids" had known what they was getting into they would have sacked up and done it anyway.

    Sometimes I get pissed as hell trying to take care of my brothers within the confines of the bureaucracy that is the VA, but just sitting my ass on a bench and sharing lunch with a WWII vet after his appointment and listening to him always makes the bullshit worth it. I do not know how many WWII vets are left so I try to cherish the times I do get to just keep my mouth shut and ears open.
     
    One of the best perks of my job is getting to see these guys daily and speak with them. Not many left, and I lose more each day. Mostly Vietnam era guys coming thru my clinic now, but man o man some of these WWII vets will open up if you just take the time to stop, say screw the schedule, and just listen to them. I'm not sure if its because I'm a former grunt that they feel comfortable opening up or if its just that they know time is ticking and they want to tell their stories to someone. I still see a Bataan death march survivor, a Liberator gunner who was shot down over Romania and taken POW near the end of the war, Marines from island hopping campaigns (I'm especially interested in listening to them since my grandfather was on Iwo Jima), and others. I got to know the nicest, most unassuming man who turned out to have been with the 501st and made two combat jumps one of them being Normandy. He has passed now, but he always told me "We were just dumb scared kids who didn't know any better." I know that even if he and those other "kids" had known what they was getting into they would have sacked up and done it anyway.

    Sometimes I get pissed as hell trying to take care of my brothers within the confines of the bureaucracy that is the VA, but just sitting my ass on a bench and sharing lunch with a WWII vet after his appointment and listening to him always makes the bullshit worth it. I do not know how many WWII vets are left so I try to cherish the times I do get to just keep my mouth shut and ears open.

    Please Jesus tell me that bigdaddy is making tapes of theses stories
     
    Unfortunately I am not. I just listen and commit it to memory and usually share it with my wife or kids when I get home. I should, but I have a feeling that guys like Doc (corpsman in the pacific), or others would clam up if I pulled out the cell phone to record it. They don't want accolades or praise or to even have it recorded for posterity. They just want someone to listen and know that someone, somewhere knows what they endured. They just want to share their thoughts and memories while they still can with other soldiers, sailors, and airmen sort of like an oral history. I wander my happy ass up thru the main lobby in between patients to go hit the latrine or check on something at the front desk and I always see these guys jawing and talking to each other. Half the time they don't even know each other and just met, but act like they have known each other for life. Hell, I think some just come into the lobby to sit and share with fellow vets and to escape the heat. I mean, the lobby is air conditioned, the flat screen is always running ESPN, the gas station across the street had pretty damn good coffee, and they can sit and bullshit the morning away.
     
    Unfortunately I am not. I just listen and commit it to memory and usually share it with my wife or kids when I get home. I should, but I have a feeling that guys like Doc (corpsman in the pacific), or others would clam up if I pulled out the cell phone to record it. They don't want accolades or praise or to even have it recorded for posterity. They just want someone to listen and know that someone, somewhere knows what they endured. They just want to share their thoughts and memories while they still can with other soldiers, sailors, and airmen sort of like an oral history. I wander my happy ass up thru the main lobby in between patients to go hit the latrine or check on something at the front desk and I always see these guys jawing and talking to each other. Half the time they don't even know each other and just met, but act like they have known each other for life. Hell, I think some just come into the lobby to sit and share with fellow vets and to escape the heat. I mean, the lobby is air conditioned, the flat screen is always running ESPN, the gas station across the street had pretty damn good coffee, and they can sit and bullshit the morning away. [/Q

    Maybe you could record them on the q/t and then tell them when they are done, offering to erase them, but requesting to keep them and edit out names if requested. These stories need to be told....Like the one on Mr. Lemon who won the Medal of Honor.
     
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    The man in the middle is my friend Mario.

    When WWII broke he was manufacturing RADARs for Raytheon and when he went to his local recruiter to enlist they told him he was crucial to the war effort and he was needed in Waltham doing what he was doing.

    He went to Boston and the Marine Recruiter in South Boston told him to pack his shit. He ended up running a RADAR on Guadalcanal.

    Mario handed the first slice of cake to the youngest Marine on his left under cover.

    The other guy to Marios right better be working his ass off. Im sure he is.

    All three have sacrificed quite a bit providing us the freedom to dick around on sites like this.
     
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