Freedom is a life worth living

Sixteen million Americans served in the armed forces in World War II. Less than 3 million of those people — servicemen, personnel, nurses — are alive today, and as many as 1,100 leave us each day.

At his home in Gainesville, where he lives with his high school sweetheart, Col. Phil Newman of the United States Army Air Corps wrestles with covered surfaces upon which rest the materials of his life’s dedication.

Newman is one of the 21,000 veterans in Alachua County, and though he served more than half a century ago, his goal is to keep alive the spirit of the men and women who fought for freedom. Newman uses these materials — maps, model planes, cassettes and manuscripts — to educate people about World War II. He coordinates high school chats; at air shows, he is a spokesman for the veterans’ group the Decrepit Birdmen. Newman also helped start a collection of recorded interviews with World War II veterans, a project he began in 1994.

“He could just as well have a full-time job,” said his wife, Aurelia Wallace.

Newman ends his search, unfolding a laminated tri-fold map. It is of the United States, but there is nothing American about it: the Japanese flag is centered with the Italian flag covering the western U.S. and the German flag, the east. He said this is what our country would have looked like had the Axis powers won.

“The map — you can’t grasp it unless you were there,” Aurelia said.

Newman was born in March of 1923.

“It was a good year for strawberries and things,” he said.

He lived down the street from Aurelia, whom he dated all four years in high school. But in 1941, this C-student from Greensboro, North Carolina, jumped ship. Newman went north and Aurelia moved to Georgia for college. They would not see each other for 50 years.

Just out of high school, Newman’s first stop was Paterson, N.J., where he worked as a machine operator with his uncle, who was personnel director for a defense plant called Watson-Flagg.

About a year later, he became interested in the service and enlisted in the Army Air Corps, the branch of the U.S. Army that would later become the Air Force. He was 19 years old.

Newman’s intention was to take the exams to get into the Army Air Corps as an aviation cadet. He said he was always interested in airplanes as a kid, and he knew he did not want to be a foot soldier.

But he did not have to go.

Newman said he had a deferment, and his friends had begged him to stay, but duty called.

“It’s about freedom. You hardly hear anyone mention that word today,” he said.

“During World War II we weren’t assured of victory. It could have been delayed for years. Germany had been in a war since 1937. We were still green. We were wet behind the ears.

“Freedom. Freedom. Freedom — that’s what it’s all about.”

Newman became one of the 190,000 pilots trained during World War II. From 1942 to 1945, it was his job as lead pilot to guide B-17s on missions over eight countries. He was stationed in Foggia, Italy, and flew to France, Germany, the former Czechoslovakia, the former Yugoslavia, Romania, Hungary and Poland.

“The weather had to be real bad for us not to go,” he said.

Somewhere between 25- and 30,000 feet, Newman defended his country. His job was to destroy the enemies’ ability to make war. He and his crew destroyed oil refineries, tank factories, tunnels, bridges — anything to disrupt the flow of military traffic.

“Looking down, you didn’t know if you were going to kill somebody. You didn’t care … People ask me, ‘How does it feel to kill somebody?’ I don’t know,” he said.

Newman remembers the Tuskegee Airmen who flew fighter cover for his crew. His team would otherwise have flown solo over Germany for 600 miles out of Foggia.

“They flew flight cover every mission we went and they never lost a bomber,” he said.

After the war, Newman moved to Raleigh, N.C., where he took a communications job, married his first wife, Blanche, and had two children.

Some 50 years later in 1994, he founded the Combat Airmen, and the group began searching for other veterans. In about 90 tape-recorded interviews called “Reminiscences of World War II,” they have documented the personal accounts of Americans who served in the war. They began storing the tapes in archives in Raleigh, N.C., but soon they placed them in high schools and public and community college libraries.

The University of Florida has since taken the tapes and transcribed them, and they are available as part of the Samuel Proctor Oral History Program.

After 59 years of marriage, Blanche passed away and in 2004 Newman moved to Gainesville and got back in touch with his high school sweetheart, Aurelia Wallace.

Aurelia is the last living member of the United State Horse Cavalry, which operated from 1941 until 1944 when it was dissolved. She is also actively involved in World War II education, and accompanies Newman on presentations at local high schools.

As part of his goal to educate people about World War II from a firsthand account, Newman travels to 25 to 30 schools each year.

“I live and breathe this thing because I was there. The schoolbooks stink. When we’re gone, (the students) won’t know beans.

“Most of them can’t define freedom,” he said.

“It’s something that’s not taught in school… Nowhere does it mention freedom. It’s not about a damn other thing. It’s not about airplanes, me, tanks, ships. It’s about freedom.”

In an ROTC class at Gainesville High School, Newman was joined by Aurelia and three veterans.

Corporal Bob Gasche and Captain Clif Cormier, both Marines, talked about the 36-day battle on Iwo Jima that claimed more than 6,800 American lives.

Gasche remembered the flag on Mt. Suribachi, the raising of which has made one of the most famous war photos ever taken.

“It was like electricity went through the island,” Gasche said.

Cormier said that on the fourth day the flag was already raised.

“Historically speaking, if a flag is raised it means the end of war. In the case of Iwo Jima, it was only the beginning,” he said.

Ole Nelson, an Air Force veteran, was just a youngster in Minnesota when the United States entered World War II, but he remembers a lot that went on at home. He can vividly recall the ration system, coupons for food and clothing. He said his family started a garden to grow their own food, and he remembers being paid for picking up scrap metal. For 100 pounds of scrap metal, he could get a movie ticket, which cost roughly 10 cents.

“My heroes were these guys here,” he said, as he looked to the men beside him.

Nelson is also a member of the Decrepit Birdmen, a veterans’ group comprised mostly of World War II vets, most of who were in the flying business, Newman said. The two men sat next to each other, representing their club at an air show at the Ocala International Airport in February. Maps and tri-fold presentation boards occupied tables as the Birdmen answered questions. Newman shared an example of the CDs onto which he hopes to transfer all the cassette interviews.

He turns and names the Birdmen sitting to his left: Dick Golze, Russell Smith and Kirby Stewart.

“They can’t help it,” Newman said. “They’re decrepit.”

“It’s well-earned,” Nelson said.