JESSE POWELL writes:

Frank Buckles, the last living American serviceman of World War I, died on February 27, 2011 at the age of 110. His is a story of ordinary American heroism. He enrolled in the army at the age of 16. Since the legal enlistment age was 18, he had to lie about his age. He was rejected several different times before he found an army recruiter who accepted him. He was never in combat himself, contrary to his wishes. After the armistice, his unit was ordered to escort 650 German prisoners of war back to Germany. 

After the war, he paid his way through business school and ended up working on steamships which took him all over the world. In December 1941, he was running the Manila, Philippines office of the American President Lines when Pearl Harbor was attacked. The Japanese invaded the Philippines and Buckles was taken prisoner. He then spent 39 months in Japanese prison camps where he lost a great deal of weight, down to 100 pounds, and developed beriberi, a disease caused by malnutrition. Regardless, he led a daily exercise class for his fellow prisoners, reminding them that they must keep in shape. He was rescued from this trial on February 23, 1945 by American soldiers at the age of 44 years old. 

He then returned home to the United States, got married for the first time at the age of 45, and had a daughter. He bought more than 300 acres of gently rolling meadows in West Virginia, and became a farmer. Even when he was past 100 years old, he worked on his farm. 

Now Frank Buckles, the last surviving American serviceman of World War I, is gone. Let’s not forget his heroism, his sacrifices on behalf of his country, and the virtues of his ordinary life.

                                    — Comments —

James N. writes:

When I was a child, the doughboys always marched first in the Memorial Day parade. As I became a teenager, some of them had to ride in open cars. Being young and foolish, it never occurred to me that a day would come that they were no more.

Now that I myself am 60, I realize that that day when we join them in history is not so far away after all.

O tempora o mores!

Roger G. writes:

My maternal grandfather, Nyman Margolis, on the right in the picture below, was a doughboy. The recruiters kept rejecting him because he didn’t meet the height and weight limitations (he was 4’11’, and weighed under 100 lbs.). He went out and ate a bunch of bananas, drank a quart of milk, went back to the recruiters, and stretched when they measured him. They gave up and let him in.

He died at the age of 93. 

Roger adds:

Any other rugby men reading this wonderful lady’s blog? As you must have surmised from the photo, I was a prop forward.

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