Jewish Veterans Swap Favorite Stories of Military Times

By Donald H. Harrison

SAN DIEGO — After raising the flag and reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, military veterans at  Tifereth Israel Synagogue on Veterans Day, Thursday, Nov. 11, shared some of the happier stories about their time in the military or just afterwards.

One category of their stories centered on disasters that didn’t happen.  For example, Alan Goldenberg, who had served as a petty officer second class aboard a helicopter carrier in the late 1960s, remembered the time something strange was spotted in the water.  General quarters were sounded, prompting everyone aboard ship to take their battle stations.  “We waited and waited.  They launched two helicopters out to look at this object in the water, and it turned out to be a broom.”

Norman Kort, who has since become an American citizen, was serving in an anti-aircraft battalion of the South African Army when the rumor circulated that his country would soon be assisting U.S. forces in the Vietnam War.  ‘We were put on standby, which means we got fully dressed, kit ready, duffel bag packed, and ready to run.”  A siren sounded, trucks came, the battalion plowed into the trucks and headed for the main airport.  “The feeling in that truck was not very good.  We ended up at a petro dump (in South Africa); they put us on guard duty for the remainder of the tour.”

Mel Goldberg was drafted and sent to Fort Ord, California, for infantry training in 1953.  On his second day there, his name was called and “I thought what the heck did I do wrong?” Because of his allergies, he was shipped to Fort Lewis, Washington, where he took his basic training and was assigned to a signal company. “All my buddies came out as signal company technicians, and I came out as a mail clerk for 18 months.  I had worked in the civil service before I got drafted so that paid off and the allergies paid off.”  He finished his service as a corporal.

David Shlicthman was a lieutenant in the U.S. Navy.  “One time in the wardroom, we were discussing how to intercept a torpedo.  Eighty percent of the fire power was on the aircraft carrier. Sometimes (escort ships) would have to ram a torpedo to save the carrier.  It turns out there is no safe way to ram a torpedo.  You just get everyone out of the hull and hope for the best.”

Family memories were another topic. Bill Friedel, an Air Force doctor, recalled that he and his brother got to share quarters for four months at Fort Dix, New Jersey, and to relax together in a back yard.

Rita Minkenen recalled that her mother and three aunts and uncles all had military experiences during World War II, with her mother, the youngest of four children, bivouacking in Arlington, Virginia; an aunt being assigned to a general’s office in Fort Meade, Maryland, and an uncle stationed in the Philippines. An aunt died in 1945. Post-war veterans’ benefits and an Army bonus enabled her family to purchase a nice home and buy a color television set.

Unusual experiences while on duty were another topic.

Norman Needel, a Navy lieutenant commander, was a ship’s doctor in Vietnam as well as a medical officer to an admiral and a general. One time while navigating during a typhoon through the Straits of Taiwan, “a hawk got caught in our rigging and it broke its leg.  A couple of shipmates brought it to me, and I set his leg with a tongue depressor and we kept him for about a week, fed him little pieces of meat, and then he flew away.  It was very gratifying to see that.  It was the best thing I did while I was overseas.”

Mark Stern, an air force munitions specialist, was assigned to a miniscule camp on the southernmost island of Japan. “After World War II, American intelligence had no idea the camp was there.  Japanese soldiers came down some time after the war and surrendered. Only 30 men were in the camp, it was so small and covered by a canopy.  They had a tunnel through the mountain that was built by Chinese slave laborers.”  During the Vietnam War era, his unit was sent to maintain the camp. “We were such a small contingent, we didn’t have a doctor. We had a medic who treated us with his book on medical ailments. He treated me with pneumonia with a shot of penicillin, which doesn’t work. I was evacuated on a truck to an army camp about 60 miles away.  I ended my career as a buck sergeant.”

Ed Cherlin, a psychiatrist, worked with the U.S. Public Health Service, completing his service with the rank of lieutenant commander.  He didn’t get to serve on the USS Oklahoma; instead, he worked at a prison in the State of Oklahoma.  With some of the well-behaved parolees in his care, Cherlin was granted permission to take in a concert starring Country Joe and the Fish.  “It was marvelous.  We had a few beers.  It worked out just great.”

Another class of stories concerned what the veterans did after the war.

Charlotte Freifeld, who had retired from the Navy as a chief petty officer and hospital corpsman in 1993, attended Shabbat services at the Naval Training Center (NTC) in San Diego.  After the rabbi no longer came to conduct the services, “I knew the service so well that I decided to lead the services myself.  For a very long time, I had the Marines and the Navy recruits at NTC.  When NTC closed down, I moved the services over to MCRD (Marine Corps Recruit Depot), and that was the most pleasurable time with the Jewish community.  I served many years and was proud to bring Jewish services to the recruits.”

Speaking of the Marine Corps, Bill Sperling, who had organized the Conservative synagogue’s annual Veterans Day observance, related that as a Navy doctor he was attached to the Marine Corps’ First Division. One day “we were setting up because the commandant of the Marine Corps was coming down to visit us.  That was Lieutenant General Victor Krulak, the ‘Brute,’ who was a short fellow, tough as nails.  We all stood at attention as he marched through.  Four years later, in my training at University Hospital, attached to Scripps Clinic, I was covering that night and I got a phone call to see a gentleman by name of Mr. [Jim] Copley, who owned the Union-Tribune. So, I go to his room and in his room a gentleman comes to attention as I come in, and he introduces himself as Mr. Krulak.  He was second in command at the Union-Tribune when he retired.  I turned to him and said, ‘Very interesting: four years ago, I stood at attention when you came across and now, I come into the room and you stand at attention.” We had a good laugh.”

Dick Braun, who had been a doctor with the Marine Corps in Vietnam, came to San Diego with the idea of establishing with other doctors in 1970 an outpatient surgical clinic to perform routine operations.  However, he couldn’t get a permit because no one in local government had any idea what an outpatient surgical clinic was.  “If an administrator doesn’t have a book with a definition of what you are trying to do, he can’t give you a license to do it.”  Braun persevered, taking his request to the San Diego City Council.  They discussed and discussed the idea but came to no conclusion until after one of the committee members came out to smoke a cigarette in the hallway where Braun was waiting.  In conversation, Braun explained that he had operated a similar surgical clinic in Vietnam while he was at Chu Lai, south of Da Nang, with the Marines.  The official sought confirmation, “You were with the Marines?”  When Braun said ‘yes,” the man went back into the council’s chambers declaring, “This guy was in the Marine Corps; why don’t we just do whatever the hell he wants?”  And so, the city’s first outpatient surgical center was established.

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Donald H. Harrison is editor of San Diego Jewish World. He may be contacted via donald.harrison@sdjewishworld.com