"Karl was a mountain of a man," a fellow shipmate wrote after hearing of Karl Kretschmar's passing, "not tall but very muscular", and the sailors really respected a fierce stare when they deserved it. Once there was a group of sailors that were going to stage some demonstration, at sea. They had all gathered in the chapel and I received a call from Karl about it
We went to the chapel and didn't know what to expect, except I knew I couldn't have anyone better with me if there was trouble. We walked in and Karl went right up to the front of the chapel and said - using his favorite adjective for silly - "You silly SOBs get back to your work stations before it gets ugly." I wasn't amazed when they quietly got up and marched out of the chapel. We never bothered to let the brass know what had transpired. I don't think the Navy has that type of fearlessness anymore.
"Another Memorial Day is upon us. We must remember those we can never forget. We must remember that wars are fought with weapons, but they are won by men and women. On Memorial Day their silent absence is like a roar of thunder from beyond. Their silence begs, "Remember the silent sacrifice. Remember us."It is important what we accomplish in this life, but it also is important to remember what we left behind. For the past months I have been thinking of a man I barely knew, someone who impressed me every time I met him. He was Karl Heinz Kretschmar. His mother and father were Ella and Oscar. Both were immigrants in a new country. They married in 1914. Karl was one of ten children born to this union. He was born on August 5, 1926 in a house near Beach's Pond on the Copper Falls road. When he was twelve he was a Cozy Valley resident who attended the Cozy Valley School and also worked at Ed Meyer's cheese factory. He and brother Richard picked up milk cans and made tons of hay for the family. "There must be an easier way to make a living² Karl would say."
In 1943 he quit school and joined the Navy. He was sixteen years old. For the next three decades Karl would find plenty to take the place of making hay. He fought in World War II, the Korean War and the Vietnam War.For the next 30 years his family would seldom see him. Bob Kretschmar was 7 years old when his older brother went to war. "He came home for our father's funeral in 1948, and came for a visit in 1970. He'd send us Christmas cards," Bob laughed, "that was my brother Karl."
Karl always was a man who couldn't stand still. In 1943 the world was on fire and Karl seemed determined to put the fire out. He was trained as a tail gunner and as a torpedo bomber. His first ship was the U.S.S. Salamaua.
It was a tin can made by the Kaiser Company in Oregon and Karl was on its first voyage into hell. They sailed to the Philippines where for nine days they furnished air cover for convoys in the Leyte Gulf waters. Then they set sail to prepare for the invasion of Luzon. The ship's planes began blasting away enemy positions on shore and provided air cover for the approaching Allied fleet. Finally they provided air cover for our troops as they assaulted the beaches. In a plane above them was a seventeen-year-old man from Cozy Valley.
On the tenth morning there, Karl felt the roar as a kamikaze pilot crashed into the flight deck carrying two 250 k.g bombs. Fifteen American sailors were killed instantly and over 80 were badly injured. The damage was extensive. The flight deck, the hanger deck, and spaces below blazed with a multitude of fires. The shipıs power went out, communications and the steering failed. The engine rooms flooded and finally the engines that powered the Salamaua quit. Frantic crew members manned the guns and shot down two more kamikaze planes going in for the kill. Somehow the ship limped back to San Diego for repairs.
Four months later the Salamaua set sail once more. Several days out, the ship was hit by a typhoon. Repairs were done on Guam. For the last months of the war Karl was on anti-submarine patrol duty. When the war ended most Americans left the service to go home and find roots. Karl re-enlisted.
For the next 30 years Karl would sail on ten more ships. Ships that became his home. He was on board ship and watched America explode its first atomic bomb on the island of Bikini in the Pacific. He was off the coast of Japan when the city of Hiroshima was obliterated by the first atomic bomb dropped on mankind. He went swimming the next day in the ocean. He took part in the occupation of Japan and during the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis, Karl was aboard ship preparing for the very worst down in that stretch of ocean.
During his years away he sailed around the world and even visited the North and South Poles. In 1973 he laid down his sword and retired, having nothing left to prove and no one else to fight. He became a warden at a Navy prison in Philadelphia.
In 1991 he called his brother Bob and said he wanted to come home. Bob found him a home down Saxon Harbor Road and called Karl. He sent a check the next day without even seeing it. The place was a twenty minute drive from Kretzsch-marville and Karl began life anew. Lake Superior was his back yard and he worked with his hands to build tables and book cases and block and tackle rigs. At night he studied the stars, the same stars he used to navigate ships. He still traveled the world, trains from Germany toSwitzerland, summers in London. His life became complete when he married a beautiful woman from Ironwood. He and Virginia were married on a boat in Saxon Harbor in 1993. For the next 13 years they traveled together and in the last two years of Karl's life they took trips down the Nile and sailed the Mediterranean. Their next trip would have been the Soviet Union.
Karl died last January. He collapsed at home and never regained consciousness. On the cold morning of last January 27th, his family and friends filled Immanuel Lutheran to say farewell. Outside the veterans held a ceremony and the guns fired, Lori Janz played taps and VFW Commander Bill Lee presented Virginia with a folded American flag "from a very grateful nation."
I was out in front of the veterans holding a flag and in the freezing cold I could feel tears fall down my face.I hardly knew Karl then. In fact I knew his name before I knew him. I would ask who was playing Santa Claus down at the school or up at the library and the answer for ten years was always the same, "Karl Kretschmar."In 2004 we held a banquet to honor all the World War II veterans and Karl spoke and brought down the house. The last time I saw Karl was last November on a bitterly cold Saturday morning. I was drinking coffee and Karl and Virginia came in to prepare themselves to freeze and to raise money for the Lion's Club White Cane project. I tried to talk them out of such a misery, but they cheerfully left without even a hot drink to warm them up. I passed Virginia by the Steak Out and Karl stationed at the post office. The streets were deserted. I never saw Karl again.
Two months ago I visited Virginia at her home and reminded her of that day. As we drank coffee she told me about the man I so wanted to know.
"Karl loved people. He loved being loved. He was so positive, so extremely giving. Just before he died he bought a new crucifix for our church. He bought a piano for the nursing home. He bought chairs for the church.
"I told her one Lions Club member remembered a meeting when one of their accounts was one hundred dollars short and Karl simply took out his wallet and the problem was solved.
"Karl loved playing Santa for the Lions. He also went to Ironwood and raised money for the Salvation Army, ringing the bell. He loved going to his ship reunions. When Karl was a young man he saved ships, admirals told me that. He called himself and his crewmates North American Bluejackets.²
I asked Virginia what they did on their first date, which was a blind date. "We went deep sea diving in Lake Superior," she laughed. I should have guessed.
"Karl loved meeting people. He met President Truman aboard ship. He met people like Joe DiMaggio and Mario Andretti. He knew the famous lawyer F. Lee Bailey. He knew Bill Cosby's father. He knew John McCain and served with John's father, who was an admiral. When newsman Tom Brokaw wanted to do a story on the Navy, Karl was chosen to take him around the Naval properties around Washington D.C.
"I asked Virginia about the band that played at Immanuel Lutheran after Karl's funeral. She told me she was a former member of the Gogebic Range Concert Band and that Karl contributed to keep their music playing.It is hard to write a story about someone you hardly knew. While it is important what each of us accomplish in our lives, it is also important what we leave behind. Karl left behind a history of red, white and blue. Of love of country and of duty to the cause. I'm sorry I never had a chance to sit down with Karl and talk about his life and how he felt about things. That is truly my loss, but one does not have to ask a man who fought in World War II, Korea and Vietnam how much he loves his country. Or ask him about bravery and sacrifice. Just seeing him for those moments of time and hearing about his exploits, I don't have anything to ask Karl because I already know. Karl, I already know.Happy Memorial Day aboard ship.
We went to the chapel and didn't know what to expect, except I knew I couldn't have anyone better with me if there was trouble. We walked in and Karl went right up to the front of the chapel and said - using his favorite adjective for silly - "You silly SOBs get back to your work stations before it gets ugly." I wasn't amazed when they quietly got up and marched out of the chapel. We never bothered to let the brass know what had transpired. I don't think the Navy has that type of fearlessness anymore.
"Another Memorial Day is upon us. We must remember those we can never forget. We must remember that wars are fought with weapons, but they are won by men and women. On Memorial Day their silent absence is like a roar of thunder from beyond. Their silence begs, "Remember the silent sacrifice. Remember us."It is important what we accomplish in this life, but it also is important to remember what we left behind. For the past months I have been thinking of a man I barely knew, someone who impressed me every time I met him. He was Karl Heinz Kretschmar. His mother and father were Ella and Oscar. Both were immigrants in a new country. They married in 1914. Karl was one of ten children born to this union. He was born on August 5, 1926 in a house near Beach's Pond on the Copper Falls road. When he was twelve he was a Cozy Valley resident who attended the Cozy Valley School and also worked at Ed Meyer's cheese factory. He and brother Richard picked up milk cans and made tons of hay for the family. "There must be an easier way to make a living² Karl would say."
In 1943 he quit school and joined the Navy. He was sixteen years old. For the next three decades Karl would find plenty to take the place of making hay. He fought in World War II, the Korean War and the Vietnam War.For the next 30 years his family would seldom see him. Bob Kretschmar was 7 years old when his older brother went to war. "He came home for our father's funeral in 1948, and came for a visit in 1970. He'd send us Christmas cards," Bob laughed, "that was my brother Karl."
Karl always was a man who couldn't stand still. In 1943 the world was on fire and Karl seemed determined to put the fire out. He was trained as a tail gunner and as a torpedo bomber. His first ship was the U.S.S. Salamaua.
It was a tin can made by the Kaiser Company in Oregon and Karl was on its first voyage into hell. They sailed to the Philippines where for nine days they furnished air cover for convoys in the Leyte Gulf waters. Then they set sail to prepare for the invasion of Luzon. The ship's planes began blasting away enemy positions on shore and provided air cover for the approaching Allied fleet. Finally they provided air cover for our troops as they assaulted the beaches. In a plane above them was a seventeen-year-old man from Cozy Valley.
On the tenth morning there, Karl felt the roar as a kamikaze pilot crashed into the flight deck carrying two 250 k.g bombs. Fifteen American sailors were killed instantly and over 80 were badly injured. The damage was extensive. The flight deck, the hanger deck, and spaces below blazed with a multitude of fires. The shipıs power went out, communications and the steering failed. The engine rooms flooded and finally the engines that powered the Salamaua quit. Frantic crew members manned the guns and shot down two more kamikaze planes going in for the kill. Somehow the ship limped back to San Diego for repairs.
Four months later the Salamaua set sail once more. Several days out, the ship was hit by a typhoon. Repairs were done on Guam. For the last months of the war Karl was on anti-submarine patrol duty. When the war ended most Americans left the service to go home and find roots. Karl re-enlisted.
For the next 30 years Karl would sail on ten more ships. Ships that became his home. He was on board ship and watched America explode its first atomic bomb on the island of Bikini in the Pacific. He was off the coast of Japan when the city of Hiroshima was obliterated by the first atomic bomb dropped on mankind. He went swimming the next day in the ocean. He took part in the occupation of Japan and during the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis, Karl was aboard ship preparing for the very worst down in that stretch of ocean.
During his years away he sailed around the world and even visited the North and South Poles. In 1973 he laid down his sword and retired, having nothing left to prove and no one else to fight. He became a warden at a Navy prison in Philadelphia.
In 1991 he called his brother Bob and said he wanted to come home. Bob found him a home down Saxon Harbor Road and called Karl. He sent a check the next day without even seeing it. The place was a twenty minute drive from Kretzsch-marville and Karl began life anew. Lake Superior was his back yard and he worked with his hands to build tables and book cases and block and tackle rigs. At night he studied the stars, the same stars he used to navigate ships. He still traveled the world, trains from Germany toSwitzerland, summers in London. His life became complete when he married a beautiful woman from Ironwood. He and Virginia were married on a boat in Saxon Harbor in 1993. For the next 13 years they traveled together and in the last two years of Karl's life they took trips down the Nile and sailed the Mediterranean. Their next trip would have been the Soviet Union.
Karl died last January. He collapsed at home and never regained consciousness. On the cold morning of last January 27th, his family and friends filled Immanuel Lutheran to say farewell. Outside the veterans held a ceremony and the guns fired, Lori Janz played taps and VFW Commander Bill Lee presented Virginia with a folded American flag "from a very grateful nation."
I was out in front of the veterans holding a flag and in the freezing cold I could feel tears fall down my face.I hardly knew Karl then. In fact I knew his name before I knew him. I would ask who was playing Santa Claus down at the school or up at the library and the answer for ten years was always the same, "Karl Kretschmar."In 2004 we held a banquet to honor all the World War II veterans and Karl spoke and brought down the house. The last time I saw Karl was last November on a bitterly cold Saturday morning. I was drinking coffee and Karl and Virginia came in to prepare themselves to freeze and to raise money for the Lion's Club White Cane project. I tried to talk them out of such a misery, but they cheerfully left without even a hot drink to warm them up. I passed Virginia by the Steak Out and Karl stationed at the post office. The streets were deserted. I never saw Karl again.
Two months ago I visited Virginia at her home and reminded her of that day. As we drank coffee she told me about the man I so wanted to know.
"Karl loved people. He loved being loved. He was so positive, so extremely giving. Just before he died he bought a new crucifix for our church. He bought a piano for the nursing home. He bought chairs for the church.
"I told her one Lions Club member remembered a meeting when one of their accounts was one hundred dollars short and Karl simply took out his wallet and the problem was solved.
"Karl loved playing Santa for the Lions. He also went to Ironwood and raised money for the Salvation Army, ringing the bell. He loved going to his ship reunions. When Karl was a young man he saved ships, admirals told me that. He called himself and his crewmates North American Bluejackets.²
I asked Virginia what they did on their first date, which was a blind date. "We went deep sea diving in Lake Superior," she laughed. I should have guessed.
"Karl loved meeting people. He met President Truman aboard ship. He met people like Joe DiMaggio and Mario Andretti. He knew the famous lawyer F. Lee Bailey. He knew Bill Cosby's father. He knew John McCain and served with John's father, who was an admiral. When newsman Tom Brokaw wanted to do a story on the Navy, Karl was chosen to take him around the Naval properties around Washington D.C.
"I asked Virginia about the band that played at Immanuel Lutheran after Karl's funeral. She told me she was a former member of the Gogebic Range Concert Band and that Karl contributed to keep their music playing.It is hard to write a story about someone you hardly knew. While it is important what each of us accomplish in our lives, it is also important what we leave behind. Karl left behind a history of red, white and blue. Of love of country and of duty to the cause. I'm sorry I never had a chance to sit down with Karl and talk about his life and how he felt about things. That is truly my loss, but one does not have to ask a man who fought in World War II, Korea and Vietnam how much he loves his country. Or ask him about bravery and sacrifice. Just seeing him for those moments of time and hearing about his exploits, I don't have anything to ask Karl because I already know. Karl, I already know.Happy Memorial Day aboard ship.
A North American Bluejacket
Joe Barabe - Mayor, Mellen, Wisconsin
By