Private Snafu is a soldier who gets in trouble all along
He never can obey an order and everything he does is wrong.
In every section Private Snafu fools around in drill and all.
He'll mess up Keller, Founders, Williard but in France he's on the ball.
Reprinted from the Summer 1992 Heidelberg Bulletin
By Jamie Abel
Private Snafu was indeed a soldier, but also a writer, a comedian and a student - a Heidelberg student. Using the pseudonym of Snafu, a member of the Army Specialized Training Program wrote limericks for The Kilikilik nearly 50 years ago.
The creation of ASTP was a reaction to the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. The program's purpose was "to provide continuous and accelerated flow of high grade technicians and specialists needed by the Army," according to a War Department bulletin.
The ASTP program also was a godsend to colleges and universities, Heidelberg included. Enrollments were dropping about 30 percent a year in the early years of World War II, according to Louis E. Keefer in his book Scholars in Foxholes: The Story of the Army Specialized Training Program in World War II. College administrators were lobbying Washington to make use of their facilities and services. A 1942 Kilikilik story noted that "two small colleges in Ohio already have such greatly decreased male enrollment that they do not expect to finish the year."
Snafu comes a-running out, tying his tie, his hair all curly;
"What's the big idea there, Sarge? You called us fifty seconds early!"
In the summer of 1943, Heidelberg was selected to teach basic engineering to the 3533rd Service Unit, under the command of Lt. Col. W.O. Kinnard. The colonel and his staff of nine other officers and enlisted men were charged with the education of 250 cadets between the ages of 18-22. The soldiers hailed from all across the country, but the largest contingents were from New York, Ohio and Pennsylvania, according to the Kilikilik. More than half the men, who had to qualify for the program through a battery of tests, had attended college before entering the Army.
The first 138 cadets arrived on the Heidelberg campus in late July 1943. Most of the men arrived, soot-covered, by train and disembarked from the tracks that run behind the auxiliary gymnasium. The men took up residence, originally, in Williard Hall, Founders Hall and Keller Cottage. Their course of instruction included three terms of 12 weeks each, and their weekly schedule was comprised of 24 hours of classroom instruction, 15 hours of supervised study, six hours of gym and 5 hours of military training, according to the Kilikilik.
Classes at Heidelberg were rescheduled to meet the Army regimen of 50-minute sessions with 10-minute breaks between classes. The recreation room was converted into the headquarters area. Williard Hall and Keller Cottage received new showers and Williard also got a new set of stairs to handle the heavier traffic. Many of the Heidelberg professors were reassigned to teach courses in subjects outlined by the training unit, mostly English and mathematics, and seven new professors were hired.
Even some teaching habits had to be slightly modified. "When they first came in, I knew absolutely nothing about proper Army procedure," said former professor Frank R. Kramer, who taught English to the unit. "They would all stand at attention when they came in. I didn't know what to do to make them sit down. I had to start the class somehow, so finally in desperation, I said, ‘at ease.' Someone who seemed to be in charge then repeated the command, and we were able to begin."
"The soldiers were enrolled in a fairly balanced curriculum of scientific and liberal arts courses," said former professor John I. Kolemainen, who taught the soldiers history, in his book Remembering Bygone Days. "The young men were, in the main, disciplined (of course), serious, studious, prepared to take part in campus activities in a limited manner. They contributed to the Kil, participated in intramural sports, and naturally, like all soldiers, had an eye for charming women …"
To be sure, the cadets wasted little of their meager free time in becoming involved in athletic and social activities. The college disbanded the football team in 1942 and 1944, due to the lack of men on campus, but Coach T.R. Turney consented to the request from the men of the ASTP unit to stage a regulation football game for homecoming weekend. Replete with a parade, homecoming court, variety show and dance, the North Team (Williard Hall) battled the South Team (Founders Hall) to a 7-6 victory, the Kilikilik reported. The rosters featured some impressive players, some of whom had starred on teams from large universities before the war.
The choir also drew a great deal of interest from the cadets - a quarter of the choir that presented the annual production of Handel's Messiah were soldiers. And, the trainees were given special permission to join students in singing Christmas carols in front of College Hall. The soldiers also participated in many of the socials and dances, including the annual Christmas formal.
Snafu lately moved to Founders, the trains there make them pretty sick.
Every time and engine passes, they hear that darn kilikilik!
Snafu's reign on campus was short-lived. On Feb. 18, 1944, the War Department ordered the curtailment of the ASTP program, sending all but 35,000 (including those at Heidelberg) of the nearly 150,000 cadets into active duty unites assigned for overseas combat, according to Keefer. Norman P. Luker, an ASTP cadet at Heidelberg, was sent to a rifle company in the 102nd Infantry Division for two weeks of basic training before landing in France and moving into Germany.
In retrospect, the ASTP cadets have gained recognition for their contributions to the war effort and to education. With the approach of the 50th anniversary of their arrival on campuses around the country, Pvt. Snafu and these student-soldiers might soon receive more of the recognition they're due.
Helmut Fisher
By Lisa Swickard
Helmut Fisher vividly recalls that spring day when the U.S. Army advanced into Regensburg. But the former German soldier considers himself fortunate. He never had to fire a shot, because he didn't actually participated in the battle.
"I was drafted as an anti-aircraft assistant at 16 and into the regular army in December, 1944. In April 1945, I was in the are anorth of the Danube west of the Regensburg, where we were supposed to stop the advance of the U.S. Army," Fisher recalls.
But as World War II was drawing to a close, The German army was struggling. Fisher's unit consisted mostly of teenagers, and it was poorly equipped. Although they had orders to defend their position, the unit's commanding officer knew it would be in vain.
"He deiced to avoid contact with the enemy and thus save our lives and perhaps even the lives of some our opponents," Fisher remembers. "Our commander's decision at the time was not cowardice, but rather a courageous and honorable deed, for he risked his life by saving ours."
After the war ended, Fisher spent a year as a volunteer usher and assistant to several American chaplains. Then, in 1947, he began work as an interpreter for the U.S. Army.
In the summer of 1948 I was among a group of American students and church representatives in Stuttgart," he recalls. "My knowledge of English enabled me to have extensive conversations with the American campers. So a Smith College student decided to get me a scholarship from an American College."
Fisher's new-found friend succeeded in getting him offers from both Swarthmore and Heidelberg.
"After the first friendly letters from Mr. Butcher and Mr. Kalbfleisch, I decided to accept the Heidelberg offer," he explains.
With the help of the International YMCA and the financial support of an American relative, the freshman English major arrived in Tiffin in September 1949. Although Fisher says he was not the first international student at Heidelberg, he was the first German student there after WWII. But he says the warm reception he received quelled any misgivings he might have had about his status as a former enemy.
"It was one of the great moments in my life," Fisher admits. "I was well accepted by the students, faculty and many families in Tiffin."
Although he was initially in the class of 1953, a re-evaluation of Fishers' academic records at the end of the first semester reclassified him as a junior.
Fisher graduated from Heidelberg in 1951, and after hitch-hiking across the country that summer, he returned to teach English in him hometown of Esslingen.
He's visited Heidelberg six times in the past 50 years.
Those were the best and most-impressive years of my life," says Fisher about his years at Heidelberg. "I'll always be thankful for that experience."
|
| Tangeman was lone Heidelberg
graduate killed in Vietnam
subhead: Family, friends, classmates reflect on young
Marine's life
By Ron Johnston, '70
All Bill Tucholke could do was sob after learning of 23-year-old Jimmy Tangeman's death in Vietnam during the late summer of 1968. Make that a cry and laugh at the same time.
"The last time I saw Jimmy was just before he shipped out to Vietnam when for some unknown reason I decided to hitchhike home from college in the Upper Peninsula (of Michigan)," Tucholke said. "He borrowed my clubs while he was home and gave his mom specific instructions that if anything happened to him to make sure I'd get 'his' clubs."
Tucholke paused. "When Mrs. Tangeman called to tell me about his untimely death, she made sure to tell me about the golf clubs that in actuality were mine to begin with," he said. "I couldn't help but realize then that Jimmy would have the last laugh at my expense.
"No question about it, Jimmy Tangeman had a keen sense of humor for a "jock."
Long before Tangeman starred on the basketball hardwood at Heidelberg, he was a pretty fair country baseball player in Flat Rock, Mich., a city in Wayne County, almost halfway between Detroit and Toledo. A right-handed pitcher, he was 12-years-old in 1957 when he was first introduced to 10-year-old Tucholke during the summer recreation baseball season.
"I was Jimmy's catcher," Tucholke said. "Later, when he was about 13-14, my dad taught him how to throw his first curveball. And, he became quite a good pitcher." Generally, there were two to three games slated weekly, and sometimes more if there were re-scheduled contests due to rainouts. Back then, Tangeman had a Detroit Times (now merged with the Detroit News) paper route, and Tucholke, who became a fast friend, assisted him on the job. "I helped him, so that we could get done quicker," Tucholke said, "and so that we could play baseball in a vacant field across town."
Tucholke smiled.
"We played with about 10-12 other kids about the same age as us," he said. "We had to play right field out -- unless you batted left-handed - because we didn't have enough players to cover the entire outfield.
"Jimmy was like the pied piper in the neighborhood as we started playing pick-up games closer to home. Groups of younger kids would follow him around seeking out his attention. He was a really good instructor with the younger kids, especially those that didn't have such a great home life.
"During the summer of 1959, Tangeman and Tucholke began playing golf. After delivering newspapers, the twosome rode with clubs on their bicycle handle bars to a course, almost three miles away.
"Golf was special, and we had to have enough money to be able to play," Tucholke said, "and of course, we walked the nine holes, and looked for lost golf balls whenever we could.
"We always had to end by about 3-3:30 p.m. so we could eat and get ready to play in the recreation league baseball games that either started at 5:30 or 7 p.m.
"Of all the sports that the 6-foot-3 Tangeman played, though, basketball was his game. During his senior season at Flat Rock High, he was honored as a Class B third-team all-state pick by the Detroit Free Press. "I used to love to watch him play basketball," Tucholke said. "He had some really fluid moves under the basket and a really sweet jumpshot."
After high school graduation, Tangeman enrolled at Heidelberg. almost a two-hour drive due south from Flat Rock. "My guess is that a high school friend, Herbie Mell, and Jim just decided that they would enroll at Heidelberg together," said Ed Hyland, a Student Prince basketball teammate of Tangeman for three seasons at Heidelberg. "Herb was a football player, and stayed only through the fall of his sophomore year when he returned to Michigan
"
Heidelberg would turn out to be Tangeman's "home" for the most part for the next four years.
It was a good fit. There, he pledged Nu Sigma Alpha and, of course, played basketball.
"Tange (he was also called 'Tango.') was a standout basketball player for the college, and never seemed to stand still or stop talking," said fraternity brother Doug Tait. "He was the fastest talker
I ever met." John Crum, another fraternity brother, agreed, and added, "We played a lot of cards together. But my best memory of Jim was of him hitting the winning basket against Baldwin-Wallace."
Hyland said that Tangeman "was a truly skilled shooter."
"Offense was Jim's game," he said. "He was more of a set shooter - although his momentum in shooting the ball often propelled him into the air. One of the aspects of shooting is to keep your elbow under the ball, and Jim was very good in practicing that technique as well as following through with a precise wrist snap. When Tango was on his game, all you had to do was deliver him the ball within shooting range, and he could score points in a bundle -- and really scorch the opposition.
"Before the beginning of Tangeman's sophomore year at Heidelberg, the U.S. Congress passed the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution on Aug. 7, 1964. The war drums were now beating in earnest in that small Southeast Asian nation of South Vietnam.
The next summer, as things were heating up in South Vietnam, Tangeman enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps. Officer Candidate School. The following year, he went to basic training at Parris Island, S.C. "When Jimmy graduated from Heidelberg in 1967, I can still remember how proud he was to be the only graduate in the auditorium wearing Marine whites," Tucholke said.
On that very same day (June 11), Tangeman, along with getting his college diploma, also received his commission as an officer. Later, he attended basic school in Quantico, Va., and artillery school at Fort Sill, Okla. The following summer, he was in Vietnam.
To the Marines, the area about 10-15 miles due south of Da Nang was called "Dodge City" for obvious reasons. Everyone seemed to be armed, and shooting at each other, just like they apparently did (according to Hollywood) in the Old Wild West town in
America.
It was an extremely dangerous place to be in the Republic of Vietnam in the spring and summer of 1968. This was where Tangeman ended up in July, at a place in the vicinity of Go Noi Island.
Located in the Dien Ban District, Quang Nam Province, I Corps, it wasn't really an island. But it was surrounded by rivers, streams and roads. With its low ground, the area was honeycombed with caves, tunnels, bamboo, thorn hedges and drainage ditches - ideal terrain for an ambush.
The local population for the most part was allied to the Viet Cong and the North Vietnamese Army regulars, who used the "island" as a staging area for attacks against Da Nang and the surrounding region.
In early May, American forces from Da Nang went on the offensive in Operation Allen Brook to prevent the NVA from initiating an assault. The fighting was on and off for the next three months. On July 23, Battalion Landing Team 2/7, Tangeman's outfit, launched Operation Swift Play, which was designed to complement Operation Allen Brook. It was a surprise thrust into the Da The Mountain area, 6 kilometers south of Go Noi Island. During a week-long sweep, the Marines uncovered numerous enemy caches and base areas.
A BLT included an infantry battalion with attached forces suitable for the BLT's intended use. In Vietnam, a BLT usually had an artillery section, and Tangeman was an artillery officer. On July 29, Tangeman and two others were killed in action. While leading his men,
Tangeman had stepped on a land mine.
"The family was so devastated," said Sandi Simmons, Tangeman's sister. Said Tucholke, "You know, before Jimmy left for Vietnam, he told me he wasn't coming back, I guess he had a premonition or something."
After being returned stateside, 2nd Lieutenant James L. Tangeman was laid to rest in Michigan Memorial Park in Flat Rock. At the time, he was survived by his father and mother (Jim and Madeline) and three younger sisters (Sandi, Barbara, and Joanne). Since Tangeman's death, his parents have divorced. His mother just recently passed away, while his father has Alzheimer's disease. His sisters still reside in Michigan.
Sadly, very few people at Flat Rock High recall Tangeman. "Once when traveling in southern Michigan four or five years ago, I stopped at Jim's old high school," Hyland said. "Only one teacher remembered him, and that memory was faint."
Much later, Tangeman's name appeared on the-then Newly constructed Vietnam Memorial Wall in Washington, D.C. "I think of Jim often," Hyland said, "and have visited The Wall in D.C. to say a prayer in front of his name. "He was great fun to be around, and in those (Heidelberg) days, he didn't take life too serious."
In January of 2007, Hyland, currently a development officer at the University of Findlay, contributed to Heidelberg in Tangeman's memory for the refurbishing of the school's basketball locker room.
Tucholke, now a retired social worker living just west of Kalamazoo, Mich., paused. "He was a really great role model, an all-around good guy, and has been greatly missed by his family and all that knew and loved him."
Even years later, whenever Tucholke is on the golf course, his good friend is always in the back of his mind. "Jim's special putter was left in the bag," he said. "I can't tell you how many times that he and that putter beat me on the last hole. To this very day, I still use it, and think about him
with every putt." |
