The last of the greatest: WWII veterans fade from view, but their legacy endures

Paul Hughes poses with pictures on Thursday, Nov. 6 at Community Living Center on the VA campus in Dayton. Hughes served in the Navy for about 20 years and worked primarily as a barber while deployed in a destroyer. After retiring from the Navy, he worked as a barber in Dayton. BRYANT BILLING/STAFF

Credit: Bryant Billing

Credit: Bryant Billing

Paul Hughes poses with pictures on Thursday, Nov. 6 at Community Living Center on the VA campus in Dayton. Hughes served in the Navy for about 20 years and worked primarily as a barber while deployed in a destroyer. After retiring from the Navy, he worked as a barber in Dayton. BRYANT BILLING/STAFF

For the second half of the 20th century, World War II veterans were as ubiquitous as dandelions in spring. No one called them The Greatest Generation back then; they were simply the backbone of every community — the classroom teachers, Scoutmasters, religious leaders, baseball coaches, the dads and moms next door. They occupied the White House in an unbroken line from 1953 through 1992.

And now, they are all almost gone.

“The Greatest Generation is fading away very quickly,” said Bryan Suddith, deputy director of the Montgomery County Veterans Service Commission. “We are losing the perspective of a generation that knew our country could be united behind a single purpose, growing Victory gardens and selling war bonds. This was the last war where everybody knew somebody who was serving, and the entire country was united behind that war.”

According to recent US Department of Veterans Affairs statistics, a mere 45,418 of the 16.4 million Americans – around 0.5 percent – who served in World War II remain alive today, with their ranks dwindling dramatically every month. An estimated 1,600 Ohio WWII veterans are still alive.

Navy veteran Paul Hughes, 98, doesn’t have any secrets to his longevity. “I’ve just outlived quite a few of them, and that’s it,” he said matter-of-factly.

Hughes is one of only two WWII veterans currently residing in the Community Living Center of the Dayton Veterans Affairs Medical Center. He is doted on by the staff who relish his sense of humor and feisty comebacks. His is the loneliness of the long-distance warrior, having outlived the era when VFW and America Legion halls packed with WWII veterans swapping stories and sharing a unique fellowship.

Paul Hughes laughs during an interview on Thursday, Nov. 6 at Community Living Center on the VA campus in Dayton. Hughes served in the Navy for about 20 years and worked primarily as a barber. After retiring from the Navy, he worked as a barber in Dayton. BRYANT BILLING/STAFF

Credit: Bryant Billing

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Credit: Bryant Billing

Hughes was only 17 when he enlisted in the Navy in 1944, having recently dropped out of high school to secure a factory job that paid the princely sum of 75 cents an hour. His older brother had been killed in fighting in Germany, but his parents still proudly consented to their minor son’s decision to enlist. A gold star service banner was displayed in the window of the family home, signifying the loss of a service member in the line of duty.

Joining the Navy was no act of heroism, Hughes insisted: “It was just a natural thing that happened. You went into the service not because someone told you to, but because you wanted to go.”

That perspective is typical of the WWII veterans Suddith has encountered at the Veterans Service Commission. “They grew up in a time when the idea of service to country was absolute,” Suddith said. “From every story I have heard, they did it without reservation. They may have been reluctant to leave their homes, but not to serve.”

Serving WWII veterans

The Veterans Service Commission has served only two WWII veterans so far this year. “When one of these vets comes in, the entire office takes note,” said Suddith, who is also the newly-elected mayor of Kettering. “People will come by and shake their hand. Their hearing may be gone, but they still want to tell stories, and they still want to remember. The majority of our office are veterans, and the World War II vets appreciate the recognition from fellow veterans.”

The term “The Greatest Generation” wasn’t popularized until 1998, with the publication of Tom Brokaw’s bestselling book, but Suddith believes they have deserved that designation all along. He formed a friendship with a veteran from Kettering named Charlie Baker, one of the men who helped to guard the iconic flag that American soldiers planted at Iwo Jima.

Baker survived 30 days of brutal fighting, but his family remained uncertain of his fate until a letter arrived many weeks later.

“Only imagine what that was like for his parents and his sister, to go so long without knowing,” Suddith said. “And like so many of these veterans, Charlie came home and married his sweetheart and bought a house and went to work and raised his kids. And he rarely talked about the horrific things that he had seen.”

At times, Suddith succeeded in getting Baker to open up. “He was the sweetest guy, and he would move back and forth between stories of the horrors he had seen and the good life he was able to live back home. He would talk about his kids and grandkids. For the most part these World War II vets have been so quiet. I’m not sure we have been able to capture as much from them as we could.”

Fewer WWII veterans

Alan Bailey, president of Honor Flight Dayton, has escorted more than 600 WWII veterans to the national memorials in Washington D.C. The cost-free flights were offered exclusively to WWII vets from 2005 to 2012; they opened up to Korean War veterans in 2013 and to Vietnam War veterans a year later. A WWII veteran joined a Dayton-based Honor Flight as recently as April, but their presence on Honor Flights has grown exceedingly rare.

“Every trip with World War II veterans is a history lesson, listening to the men who actually saved the world,” Bailey said. “On my very first trip in October, 2006, I escorted John Kunkle from Springfield. We became close friends and met often to discuss both WWII and Vietnam. He was very instrumental in helping me to deal with combat issues, for which I am so grateful.”

Hughes did not see combat, but as the resident barber he was quite the shipboard celebrity. “They didn’t want to work, so they didn’t mind the long lines for a haircut,” he recalled with a chuckle. “I was very popular, because if you wanted to go on liberty, you had to straighten up and look sharp, shine your shoes and get a haircut.”

Following the war

After the war, Hughes recalled, “Everybody went home and back to their jobs. You settled down.”

After returning home he opened the first of several barber shops in Dayton and bought a house in Riverside. He never married. “Now I regret that, but it’s too late,” he said. “I’m over the hill.”

Hughes still feels compelled to serve in whatever small way he can. Every morning, he visits the “Comfort Corner” of the nursing home that contains items donated for veterans. He grabs a cupful of bird seed before heading to the VA Medical Center courtyard to feed the birds.

It’s a gentle, humble, everyday act, committed by an unassuming man. But make no mistake: He is one of the veterans who saved the world.

“The world owes them a debt of gratitude for shaping peace and for shaping a foreign policy that allowed the world to live together for a long time,” Suddith said. “That was all on the backs of these men.”

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