WW II vets shared flight and much more

The coincidences in their lives are almost eerie.

Ironically, neither man knew anything about these coincidences until Monday afternoon.

Both visited the Ferdinand News office to share tales of their most recent adventure, and also to delve into the past — the reason they were chosen for the first-ever Honor Flight from Evansville Regional Airport to Washington, DC on Saturday, October 25.

Both men — who are as spry as a pair of coon hounds and as cheerful as a couple of larks — are veterans of the second World War. Honor Flights have been arranged across the nation to transport the many heroes of that conflict to the National World War II monument in the nation’s capital. The monument opened to the public on April 29, 2004, but by that time many who served had already departed this earth. Others had not the means nor the ability to see for themselves what their dedication to country had wrought in the form of a public thanks.
That both men were chosen for this honor was yet another coincidence, as many names had been submitted but a total of only 70 would be chosen for this inaugural event.

Reynold “Lenny” Knust was born on a farm northeast of Ferdinand almost 88 years ago.

Roman Tempel arrived on this earth 88 years ago, on a farm south of Ferdinand.

Both were drafted at age 18. The day before Lenny was supposed to leave for training he had an appendicitis attack — requiring surgery and the removal of his appendix. He had to wait to ship out.

Roman was also drafted at 18 but he, too, suffered an appendicitis attack, had surgery and his enlistment was delayed. Both were surprised to learn of this shared adversity.

Lenny thought he was shipping out for Europe and remembers passing the Statue of Liberty, but three days into the trip someone pointed out the coast of Florida — not on any route to Europe. His ship wended its way through the Panama Canal and soon after a typhoon struck. “I thought that was the end,” Lenny recalls. The ship would rise up and he could reach an arm back and touch the floor. It would tip the other way and he could reach his arm forward with the same results.

The ship had to make a pit stop in Honolulu because a twin propeller sheered off in the storm.

Bound for the Philippines, he notes, “It took 32 days to get to Manila — and I wasn’t a sailor.”

Roman got called up — for the second time — on March 23, 1945. He trained in tanks at Ft. Knox and thought he, too, was bound for Europe, where he would have served as a side gunner with the 795 MP Battalion.

But the war in Europe had ended so he, too, was sent to Manila where he served as a Clerk General, performing clerical tasks, filing papers both alphabetically and numerically and fielding phone messages.

Neither knew the other was there, until Monday.

Lenny was in ordinance — in charge of equipment in Manila. He estimates today that he signed his name to hundreds of thousands — if not millions — of dollars worth of equipment but at the time gave it little thought.

He had trained as a sharpshooter in the infantry at Ft. Lewis, Washington and remembers well his journey to that locale. The train — perched high on a mountain — got stuck in a blizzard and sat immobile for three days as the snow and wind whipped around it. Snow blanketed the tracks but eventually the blizzard abated and he could see just the tops of houses dotting the mountain, the rest of the houses buried beneath the snow.

That was Lenny’s introduction to the northwest.

While neither saw active duty, Lenny suffered a serious injury. Two trucks collided — with Lenny in the middle of them. He threw himself to the ground to keep from being smashed between them. Men were yelling “Are you hurt, are you hurt?” He couldn’t catch his breath but was finally able to talk and yes, he was hurt. His back and shoulder pained him terribly, and he spent two and a half weeks in the hospital. X-rays didn’t show his back was broken so he was discharged. A couple years after the war recurring headaches forced him back to the doctor. More detailed x-rays showed his neck had been broken in the crash but by this point there was nothing that could be done. He has suffered ever since. Sadly, Lenny was denied disability because his military records did not include anything about a broken neck.

Lenny re-enlisted to receive a $100 sign-up bonus. He stayed in until 1947.

Roman mustered out on Christmas Day, 1946 — possibly the best Christmas present in his 88 years.

Neither man could find work when he got out and both worked at the Hochgesang Cannery for a time — Lenny carrying the buckets of tomatoes to the girls who were peeling them and Roman carrying the buckets full of peelings back out and disposing of them.

Yet another coincidence neither man knew about.

Finally Lenny got a job in a factory, bringing home $22 per week. He loved to dance and had his eye on Leona Giesler, a cute little Jasper girl. He asked her out but she wasn’t allowed to date. However, “I’ll be at the dance,” she told him with a pert smile.

Dance they did and still do. The two have been married for 63 years and are the parents of five girls and one boy.

Roman found a job at DMI and started at 40¢ an hour. He stayed for 43 1/2 years.

He met Betty Pund about a year after his release from service and they too have been married for 63 years. Roman and Betty are the parents of seven girls and three boys.

He is the last living member of his family, the lone remaining brother having passed away a couple of months ago in California. But all of the Tempel boys served in the military, including Charles during WW II, Jerome, Hubert, Leo and Albert in Korea. They all followed in their father’s footsteps. John J. Tempel was a World War I veteran who served as a medic in France.

Both Lenny and Roman fell into the “Notch Years” for Social Security, which cost them each an estimated $3,000 per year, or $60,000 since retirement. But neither man is bitter.

In fact, they were jovial and bursting with pep and vigor following the whirlwind trip to Washington, DC.

They attended a special reception Friday night at Cambridge Golf Course, sort of a meet and greet with other veterans and a time to meet their “guardians.” Each was assigned someone to assist them during the flight and tour.

By dint and determination, Roman’s daughter, Cyndy Faulkenberg, was able to serve as his guardian. Roman was a last-minute addition as someone scheduled to go ended up in the hospital. Cyndy took a crash course in preparation.

Lenny’s wife said beforehand, “I just know your guardian will be a woman,” and she was right. He was assigned Kathy Wagner, who works for the VA.

Still a hoofer, Lenny asked his guardian to dance. Then he asked the woman whose husband was playing the music. Then he asked another lady. He jitterbugged with all three.

Both of them cracked up laughing when remembering that another dancer — a woman — fell atop a man in a wheelchair and it took two others to lift her off.

Roman said he was nervous and didn’t sleep the night before. He rose, showered and dressed and went to knock on daughter Cyndy’s door.
“Dad, it isn’t time to get up yet,” she told him.

When they landed in Washington, Lenny thought it was raining because a Fire Department was hosing down the plane in welcome.
Neither man would normally use a wheelchair, but with many miles to cover and to keep possible falls or accidents to a minimum, each was provided with one.

Roman and Cyndy wanted to locate David Nord’s name on the Vietnam Memorial. Because the terrain was rough, Roman says he got out of the chair and walked. “His name is way on the bottom,” Roman added. Both men were shocked at the number of names on the memorial.

Lenny was fascinated with Arlington Cemetery and the changing of the guard. “Did you know there are 36,000 buried there? Only two presidents, Kennedy and Taft.” He provided some other statistics and asked Roman if he got close for the ceremony.

“No, by the time we moved to the other side [sent there for a better view] that side had filled up and we couldn’t get close.”
He added, “But I was surprised how many people came up and wanted to take our picture.”

They had an excellent tour guide who pointed out all the sights and both said they were moved by the World War II monument.

“We sure didn’t have to go hungry,” noted Roman. “I think we had breakfast three times.”

Many companies, like Arby’s, provided boxed meals and someone was constantly walking up and down th aisles of bus and plane offering bananas, soft drinks or other treats.

After a full day of fascination, fun and food, they were back on the plane bound for Evansville.

Yet another surprise awaited them when mail call was announced and all received letters from supporters, school children and more. Lenny received 120 letters. Roman may have gotten even more, as sisters from the monastery where Cyndy works wrote specifically to him.

One came from a Japanese-American who now lives in Dubois; he didn’t quite know what to say. “His mom died and his dad brought him here, and he did say the Japanese started the war.” That letter held particular meaning.

They landed in Evansville to be greeted by all sorts of supporters. “I almost couldn’t find my family,” Roman reports.

Both men say if any vets have the chance, “You’d better go.” They also said everyone should get out there and vote next Tuesday, if for no other reason than to honor all who have given the ultimate sacrifice so that freedom can be preserved.

“Yes,” concluded Roman Tempel, a sly smile lighting his face, “I’d say it will take at least two or three weeks before we forget this one!”