Madam Speaker, I rise to recognize Milo Deuel, a World War II Army veteran from Boone, Iowa, and to express my appreciation for his dedication and commitment to his country. The Boone News Republican is currently running a series of…
Madam Speaker, I rise to recognize Milo Deuel, a World War II Army veteran from Boone, Iowa, and to express my appreciation for his dedication and commitment to his country.
The Boone News Republican is currently running a series of articles that honors one Boone County veteran every Tuesday from Memorial Day to Veterans Day. Milo Deuel was recognized on Tuesday, October 12. Below is the article in its entirety:
Boone County Veterans: Milo Deuel
(By Greg Eckstrom)
Before going into the service, Milo Deuel had read of a
soldier who had been in the civil war and carried a little
Bible with him in his breast pocket. The soldier in the story
had gotten shot with a mini ball, and the Bible had ended up
saving his life.
So when Deuel joined the Army Enlisted Reserve Corps while
in junior college in Missouri, and was called to active duty,
he brought with him a small book given to him by his
Methodist minister, entitled ``Strength for Service to God
and Country.'' As his service brought him around the world,
he chronicled the places he had been on the back leaf of the
book, serving as a memory for the places he'd gone and the
things he'd seen.
Commonly, veterans have a difficult time recalling
experiences from war to non-veterans because it can be a
painful experience. Deuel is similar in this way, however his
little book provides him reminders with each neatly-printed
location and date on the back leaf.
``They won't say a thing about it,'' Deuel said. ``My wife
says I'm the same way, and the older I got, the more liberal
I got with what I did and what happened. But some things that
happened I don't really care to think about or talk about.''
Yet, with the bad comes the good--the camaraderie amongst
soldiers, the experience one gains by being a part of history
and the stories that come from service.
Deuel was sent to Camp Roberts in California in 1943, where
he was trained for desert warfare. He learned how to endure
high temperatures, how to get along with little water and how
to shoot, Deuel said. After his training, he was given a
short furlough to go home and say goodbye to his family
before heading back to the west coast and then overseas.
Deuel remembered well being stationed in the Guadalcanal
Islands and ``distinguishing himself,'' although not in a
heroic fashion. Heading home from a movie, he noticed
coconuts scattered on the ground around trees, and felt the
urge to cut one open and have a drink.
``I had never seen a coconut tree before in my life,'' he
said. ``I didn't know that when a coconut fell on the ground
and laid there several days or weeks, the milk fermented and
made a soap-like substance. I ended up in the base hospital
in Guadalcanal for 10 days drinking paregoric. It had a
terrible taste to it. After a while, about the third or
fourth day, it tasted pretty good.''
From Guadalcanal, he went to Munda, New Georgia, where he
``went on a few patrols.''
``I'm glad I didn't have to fight anybody, but that jungle
warfare really didn't appeal to me,'' Deuel said.
Neither did the late-night wake-ups from Japanese aircraft
in the area.
``They had a big air strip in there covered with white
coral,'' he said. ``The Japanese would send a lone plane
around midnight two or three times a week to keep us awake.
We called him `Midnight Charlie.' He'd come over, and the
anti-aircraft guns would open up. They never hit him, but
it'd keep us awake.''
After serving between 6-8 weeks in New Georgia, Deuel was
sent to New Zealand, which he described as ``a Godsend.''
``It was just like going from green hell to green heaven,''
he said. ``And they treated us like kings down there. One of
the great treats was to have fresh milk and ice cream, which
we hadn't seen for several weeks.''
It was during Deuel's four months in New Zealand that he
found himself moved to regimental supply--a position that saw
him distributing rations to the troops. Pleasing the troops
was his job, one that was made easy when the rations were
bigger.
``I was really popular then, which wasn't very often,'' he
joked.
He then went to Papua New Guinea, followed by a stint in
Luzon, where he saw his ``most exciting'' days of his service
in the Invasion of Luzon on Jan. 9, 1945.
Regimental supply was divided into two teams, and offloaded
from the troop ship in a bay to a landing craft loaded with
large drums that appeared to be filled with gasoline. As the
fourth or fifth wave to go in on Jan. 9, Deuel's unit was
shelled out and had to wait.
``The Japanese had some artillery guns that were hidden
back in the hills, and they would let go with those every now
and then. We couldn't make the beach, so we sat out in the
bay all day and then the following day, the 10th, we went in
with no problem at all.''
It was in Luzon that Deuel said he learned a powerful
lesson working with a Filipino crew.
``I found there you couldn't judge a man by his color,'' he
said. ``Whether he was black or brown or white, it was what
was in his heart. I made some good friends with the Filipino
people.''
Deuel recalls one conversation he had with the head
Filipino man he worked with--
Juan. In the town of Santa Maria, Deuel heard a jazz band
marching down the road playing an upbeat song--``Roll Out the
Barrel''--that he had heard from Camp Roberts. As the band
came within sight, Deuel saw it was a funeral procession--
escorting the caskets of a mother and child. Shocked, Deuel
asked Milo why they didn't play something more mournful.
``He said, `Milo, think about it. Do you think that when
you die you go to a better place?' I said, `I certainly hope
so.' He says, 'That's what we do. We're happy that they're
gone out of this d* * * mess that we're in. They're gone to a
better place.'''
Deuel saw promotions quickly in Luzon, going from a buck
private to a staff sergeant in four weeks. He was next sent
to Japan for six weeks as part of occupation troops after the
war had ended, where he had a chance to see ``how effective
our bombers had been. There were miles and miles of
nothing.'' After those six weeks, he received the news.
``Milo Deuel, pack your duffle, get on the next ship.
You're headed for home,'' he recalled.
He traveled back home highly decorated. All in all, he
received several awards, including a sharpshooter's badge, a
combat infantry badge, the Bronze Star and a presidential
citation medal. Upon arriving home, the biggest shock was the
guy waiting to greet him.
``My greatest surprise coming home, I didn't have a little
brother anymore,'' he said. ``That sucker had grown up after
four or five years since I had been home. He was as tall as I
was.''
Deuel remained in contact with many of the men he'd served
with. He'd seen strong friendships throughout his service,
and a wide variety of places, as he'd documented in his
little book, which returned home with him. In it, he had
filled two of the small pages in the back of the book--each
recounting memories of places he had been and things he had
seen.
A good friend from the service he'd lost contact with
entered his mind recently, prompting Deuel to look him up and
write a letter to the mayor of the man's town--Maiden, North
Carolina--to inquire about him. The mayor responded to let
Deuel know the man had passed away, but a letter soon
followed . . . from the man's daughter.
``She said, `Daddy would never tell me a thing about WWII.
Tell me what he did,' '' Deuel recalled.
So Deuel grabbed the book--the one that had stuck with him
all through his service--and flipped it open to the last two
pages. Looking through the dates, the memories came flooding
back, and he began writing. It might be difficult for him to
talk about his service, but he wanted to share with the girl
what her father had gone through.
``There were good days and bad days,'' Deuel said. ``So I
copied a lot of this stuff. Each date gave me a remembrance
of something that happened to us. So the poor thing knows
what her daddy did.''
I commend Milo Deuel for his many years of loyalty and service to our great nation. It is an immense honor to represent him in the United States Congress, and I wish him all the best in his future endeavors.