Wood Buckles (1901 - 2011)

Born 1 Feb 1901 in Bethany, Harrison, Missouri, United States

Ancestors

Husband of Audrey (Mayo) Buckles — married 14 Sep 1946 in California, United States

Died 27 Feb 2011 at age 110 in Charles Town, Jefferson, West Virginia, United States

Problems/Questions Profile manager: Summer Seely [send private message]

Frank Woodruff Buckles is Notable.

Frank Woodruff Buckles was a centenarian, living to age 110.

The last surviving American military veteran of World War I

Frank Woodruff Buckles (born Wood Buckles, February 1, 1901 – February 27, 2011) was a United States Army corporal and the last surviving American military veteran of World War I. He enlisted in the U.S. Army in 1917 at the age of 16 and served with a detachment from Fort Riley, driving ambulances and motorcycles near the front lines in Europe.

During World War II, a month before his forty-first birthday, he was captured by Japanese forces while working in the shipping business, and spent three years in the Philippines as a civilian prisoner. After the war, Buckles married in San Francisco and moved to Gap View Farm near Charles Town, West Virginia. A widower at age 98, he worked on his farm until the age of 105.

In his last years, he was Honorary Chairman of the World War I Memorial Foundation. As chairman, he advocated the establishment of a World War I memorial similar to other war memorials in Washington, D.C.. Toward this end, Buckles campaigned for the District of Columbia War Memorial to be renamed the National World War I Memorial. He testified before Congress in support of this cause, and met with President George W. Bush at the White House.

Buckles was awarded the World War I Victory Medal at the conclusion of that conflict, and the Army of Occupation of Germany Medal retroactively following the medal's creation in 1941, as well as the French Legion of Honor in 1999. His funeral was on March 15, 2011, at Arlington National Cemetery, with President Barack Obama paying his respects prior to the ceremony with full military honors.

Early Life -

Born to James Clark Buckles, a farmer, and Theresa J. Buckles (née Keown) in Bethany, Missouri, on February 1, 1901. He had two older brothers, Ashman and Roy, and two older sisters, Grace and Gladys.

Several family members lived long lives; he remembered speaking with his grandmother who was born in 1817, and his father lived to be 94. His ancestry included soldiers of the Revolutionary and Civil Wars.

In 1903, Frank—then known as Wood—and his brother Ashman contracted scarlet fever. Frank survived, but Ashman died from the disease at the age of four.

Between 1911 and 1916, Buckles attended school in Walker, Missouri. Later, he and his family moved to Oakwood, Oklahoma, where he continued his schooling and worked at a bank. He was an amateur wireless operator, and an avid reader of newspapers.

Death and Funeral -

On February 27, 2011, Buckles died of natural causes at his home at the age of 110 years and 26 days. He was the second-oldest living man in the United States at the time of his death (Walter Breuning died 46 days later).

Frank did not meet the criteria for burial at Arlington National Cemetery as he had never been in combat, but friends and family secured special permission from the federal government in 2008. That was accomplished with the help of Ross Perot, who had met him at a history seminar in 2001, and who intervened in 2008 with the White House regarding a final resting place.

Upon Buckles' death on February 27, 2011, President Barack Obama ordered that the American flag be flown at half-staff on all government buildings, including the White House and U.S. embassies, on the day in March when Buckles would be buried at Arlington. Leading up to the March 15 funeral, the governors of 16 states likewise called for lowering their states' flags to half-staff.

In addition to being the last U.S. veteran of World War I, Buckles was the oldest World War I veteran in the world at the time of his death, as well as the last field veteran of the war. Following his death and funeral, there were two surviving World War I veterans, British-born Florence Green and British Australian citizen Claude Choules, both of whom served in the British Armed Forces. Choules died on May 5, 2011; Green died on February 4, 2012.

Biography

Frank Woodruff Buckles’ life spanned the awesome, horrible, fantastic, dreadful Twentieth Century. He saw and experienced much. As America’s last surviving veteran witness to the First World War, his life experiences and perspective are an artifact in our day which often lacks perspective. Frank’s story, in his own words:

The Beginning I was born on my father’s farm north of Bethany in Harrison County, Missouri, on 1 February 1901. My father retired in 1905 and bought property in the small town of Coffey, where I started school. In 1910, he bought a farm in Vernon County, near Walker, Missouri, where we enjoyed country living. In December 1916, we moved to Dewey County, Oklahoma, near Oakwood. I was 15 at the time, and I accompanied a boxcar load of draft horses and equipment to the farm. I knew that my father was planning to arrange for a man to take the horses to Oklahoma. He would be paid $20 and transportation back to Missouri. I asked my father if I could do the job, and he agreed. My parents came later by automobile.

In the charming little frontier town of Oakwood, population 300, I worked at the bank, lived at the hotel, and went to high school. On 6 April 1917, the United States entered the Great War and patriotic posters appeared in the post offices.

Enlistment When summer vacation came, I was invited to the Kansas State Fair in Wichita. While there, I went to the Marine Corps recruiting office to enlist. I said that I was 18, but the understanding sergeant said that I was too young; I had to be 21. I went to Lamed, Kansas, to visit my father’s mother who was living with my aunt and uncle who owned a bank in Larned. A week later, I returned to Wichita and went to the Marine recruiting station. This time I stated that I was 21. The same sergeant gave me a physical examination, but kindly told me that I was just not heavy enough. I tried the Navy and passed the tests, but they were perhaps suspicious of my age and told me that I was flat-footed.

I decided to try elsewhere, so I went to Oklahoma City. There I had no luck with either the Marines or the Navy. I then tried the Army, but was asked for a birth certificate. I told them that the public records were not made of births in Missouri at the time I was born, and my record would be in the family Bible. They accepted this and I enlisted in the Army on 14 August 1917. Thirteen of us were accepted at the recruiting station and given rail tickets to Fort Logan, Colorado, where those who were accepted were sworn into the regular U. S. Army. My serial number was 15577.

In choosing the branch of the Army in which to serve, the old sergeant advised that the Ambulance Service was the quickest way to get to France because the French were begging for ambulance services. I followed his advice and was sent to Fort Riley, Kansas, for training and trench casualty retrieval and ambulance operations.

The Great War The unit that I went overseas with was called the First Fort Riley Casual Detachment, which consisted of 102 men. The ranking officer was a sergeant. I have a photo of this unit taken at Fort Riley.

We sailed from Hoboken, New Jersey, via Halifax, Nova Scotia, in December 1917, aboard the HMS Carpathia, the vessel famous for the rescue of the White Star Liner, Titanic, on 15 April 1912. Some of the officers and crew who made the rescue were aboard the Carpathia and were not averse to describing the rescue.

We docked in Glasgow, Scotland, and our unit continued on to Winchester, England, to await cross-channel shipment to France. A unit of the 6th Marines was operating Camp Hospital No. 35 near Winchester. Our unit was forced to replace the Marines who were sent on to France.

While in England, I drove a Ford ambulance, a motorcycle with sidecar, and a Ford car for visiting dignitaries. Others walked. After some weeks in England, I requested a meeting with the commanding officer of the area, Colonel Jones of the 6th Cavalry. I asked to be sent to France, and he explained to me that he, too, wanted to go to France but had to stay where he was ordered.

I finally got an assignment to escort an officer to France who had been left behind by his original unit. In France, I had various assignments and was at several locations. After Armistice Day I was assigned to a prisoner-of-war escort company to return prisoners back to Germany.

After two years with the AEF (American Expeditionary Force), I returned home on the USS Pocahontas in January 1920. I was paid $143.90, including a $60 bonus.

Returning Home I went home to visit my parents, then decided to get a quick education in shorthand and typewriting at a business school in Oklahoma City. After four months of school, I got a job at the post office, working 4:00 p.m. to midnight. I was paid 60¢ an hour. In one month, I had enough money to take the train to Toronto, Ontario, Canada, where I got a job in the freight soliciting office of the White Star Line Steamship Company. I also had a night job with the Great Northwest Telegraph Company.

During the winter of 1921, I went to New York and got a job in the bond department of the prestigious Bankers Trust Company at 5th Avenue and 42nd Street. I used as my reference the Oakwood, Oklahoma, bank where I had worked at age 15.

The steamship business had more appeal for me, but first I had to have some experience at sea. I got my first sea job with the old Munson Line as assistant purser of the ship, Western World, bound for Buenos Aires. I spent several years with the Grace Line, in both cargo and passenger ships on the west coast of South America, where an intimate knowledge of the countries and language was required.

World War II In 1940, I accepted an assignment to expedite the movement of cargoes for the American President Lines in Manila. Unfortunately for me, my stay was extended by the Japanese invasion of the Philippines in 1941. I spent three-and-a-half years in Japanese prison camps at Santo Tomas and Los Banos. We were rescued by the 11th Airborne Division on 23 February 1945.

Home Again Life in San Francisco was pleasant after World War II. On 14 September 1946, I married Audrey Mayo of Pleasanton, California. She was born on a ranch, and my people were landowners and farmers for generations, so we decided it was time to give up foreign assignments and come back to the land. We came to Gap View Farm near Charles Town, West Virginia, in January 1954, to reside in the area where my forefather, Robert Buckles, his wife, and 15 other families settled in 1732.

Frank Buckles continued to work on his farm and, up until the age of 106 still drove his tractor. His wife Audrey has passed and Mr. Buckles lived with his daughter, Susannah near Charles Town, West Virginia, until his death at the age of 110.

"I had been bouncing around from one place to another for years at sea," Buckles told the Charleston Daily Mail in 2007. "It was time to settle down in one place."

Audrey died in 1999, the same year that French President Jacques Chirac awarded Buckles the French Legion of Honor, the country's highest decoration. His wartime exploits received a renewed flurry of interest at home following the death of 108-year-old Harry Landis on Feb. 4, 2008 -- leaving Buckles as the war's last living U.S. veteran.

"I always knew I'd be one of the last because I was one of the youngest when I joined," Buckles, then 107, told the New York Daily News. "But I never thought I'd be the last one."

Buckles is survived by his daughter, Susannah Buckles Flanagan. With his death, only two of the 65 million people mobilized during the Great War are known to be alive, The Washington Post reports: an Australian man, 109, and a British woman, 110.

ALLEN G. BREED, The Associated Press

What was it like?

What was it like in the trenches? What was it like in all those places whose names have faded in the dusty recesses of memory, places like Ypres and Gallipoli, Verdun and the Marne? What was it like to fight the war that was supposed to make the world safe for democracy?

There's no one left to ask.

The Great War has almost passed from living memory. The veterans have slipped away, one by one, their obituaries marking the end of the line in country after country: Harry Patch, Britain's last survivor of the trenches; Lazare Ponticelli, the last of the French "poilu"; Erich Kastner, the last of the Germans.

And now, Frank Buckles, dead at age 110, the last U.S. veteran. Missouri boy. Sixteen years old, he lied about his age to get into the Army and badgered his superiors until they sent him to the French front with an ambulance unit, one of 4.7 million Yanks who answered the call to go "Over There."

All of them gone. None of them surviving to tell us about a brutish, bloody conflict that set new standards for horror.

No one to answer the question: What was it like?

___

Hunkered in a network of fortifications gouged out of a low hill outside the Belgian town of Werwick, the young soldier and his comrades were shielded from shrapnel as the artillery bombardment thundered throughout the evening and into the night. But after four years of trench warfare, both sides had found ways to defeat such defenses.

As the rounds thudded into the rich soil of the famed Flanders Fields south of Ypres, the Bis(2-chloroethyl) sulfide liquid hidden in the tips vaporized into the yellowish-brown cloud that earned this new and terrible weapon its nickname — "mustard gas." Heavier than the air around it, the gas descended into the trenches and dugouts, enveloping the men in a foul-smelling mist that seeped into the gaps around their shoddily constructed masks.

By midnight, many of the entrenched soldiers were incapacitated as their lungs burned, their eyes swelled shut and deep itches beneath their moldy woolen uniforms erupted into angry red blisters. The 29-year-old courier didn't feel the effects until the following morning, but when the pain finally arrived, it was excruciating.

"It increased with every quarter of an hour, and about seven o'clock my eyes were scorching as I staggered back and delivered the last dispatch I was destined to carry in this war," the young soldier wrote of that battle in the last days of World War I. "A few hours later my eyes were like glowing coals, and all was darkness around me."

___

It started with the assassination of the Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Serajevo in 1914 — a tripwire for cataclysm.

By the time the Americans entered the war in April 1917, the Europeans had been hammering away at each other for three bloody years. Much of the French and Belgian countryside had been turned into a vast "no man's land" of barbed-wire entanglements, bounded on either side by serpentine networks of fortified trenches.

When ambulance driver Stull Holt arrived at Verdun in the fall of 1917, he discovered a scene of utter desolation.

"We were in historic ground and it looked it," the New York City native wrote home to family. "All the hills ... have been fought over many times and the result is that they are in waves of dirt with one shell hole overlapping the next; no grass or anything growing; no trees but where there used to be a forest you can see some black spots where the roots remain."

Man had invented an array of new tools for killing, and it seemed that all of Europe had become a proving ground.

Barely a decade after the Wright brothers skimmed over the grass at Kitty Hawk, the airplane had been perverted from a marvel of human ingenuity into an instrument of terror.

"It isn't very soothing for the nerves when you hear Fritz's engine going right overhead and hear him shut off just before dropping one of his pills," Lt. Bartlett H.S. Travis, who trained in Canada and joined the British Royal Flying Corps, wrote in an August 1918 letter home to New Jersey. "After his first pill the suspense waiting for the rest of them is awful."

Toward the war's end, the Germans used airplanes to experiment with a tactic they would later turn into an art form.

"I am sending to you a little sheet of German propaganda that has been dropped to our men on the front line by the Hun aeroplanes," Sgt. Morris Pigman wrote home from France in November 1918. "They are trying to weaken the morale of our men. What a feeble appeal for us to give ourselves up to them. Our boys only laugh at it and gather them up for souvenirs."

The machine gun had been around since the 1880s, and had seen limited action in the colonial campaigns of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. But the Germans brought a stereotypical efficiency to its deployment. Setting up their water-cooled guns in nests strategically located along the front, the Germans could lay down a withering crossfire that easily broke the back of the traditional infantry or cavalry charge. In July 1916, German machine-gunners along the Somme reportedly killed 21,000 British soldiers in a single day.

"The machine gun bullets from both sides seemed to heat the air across the top of our hole," Sgt. Albert E. Robinson of the 140th Infantry wrote in a July 1918 diary entry. "The steady patter of our machine guns had a most business-like and reassuring sound."

The devastating effect of the machine gun led to the development of other weapons designed to break the stalemate. Flame-throwers were ideal at flushing out an entrenched enemy, and primitive tanks lumbered across battlefields, rolling over the quick and dead alike.

In the verses of British warrior/poet Siegfried Sassoon, man becomes subordinate to his creations, like so much raw meat to be ground up in the gears of a remorseless war machine.

"Mute in the clamour of shells he watched them burst

"Spouting dark earth and wire with gusts from hell,

"While posturing giants dissolved in drifts of smoke.

"He crouched and flinched, dizzy with galloping fear,

"Sick for escape, loathing the strangled horror

"And butchered, frantic gestures of the dead."

Sources

• https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Buckles
• http://www.frankbuckles.org/
• https://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/01/us/01buckles.html
• https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/27677330