Grave hunting MacGyver style

Charles Soper graduated early
from the Colorado School of Mines
to join the army air corp.

Several years ago, when I was visiting my paternal grandparents in Denver, I asked about the person from whom my middle name and my father's name derives - Charles Soper - my grandfather's brother. Charles was a navigator on a B-17 during WWII and as the story goes was returning to England after a bombing mission and in the fog over the Channel, they hit another plane and everyone on-board was killed.

My grandparents said Charles was buried in Denver. I was surprised and asked why we never had gone to see the grave? They didn't know; by that afternoon we were driving around Fairmount Cemetery. We asked the main office for a map and they put an "x" on the map for where the plot was located. As we drove to the location, my grandparents made comments like, "This doesn't look right, the pine trees were tiny." Asking when they were last there, the said, "1945, for the funeral." Over 65 years later, trees had grow up.

As we walked around the location, we didn't see the grave. I got to noticing there was a line of markers and then none for a while. Looking at the map and hearing my grandparents say in the background it was between two pine trees, I decided "x marks the spot" and pulled out my Swiss Army knife and sunk it into the grass. (To this day I still don't know why I decided to do that) The blade hit something hard. It was like a scene from MacGyver! I cut a piece of sod and began to see a letter appear - S, then O - P - E - R! We pulled a bottle of water from the car and uncovered and washed the rest of the marker. It had sank 2 inches below the grass. My grandparents contacted the cemetery and the marked was lifted to regulation height.

As we approach the 71st anniversary of VJ Day, we must never forget those who gave the ultimate sacrifice and the families who carry the heavy hearts for the nation. It is to those who have worn the uniform that I salute.

Remembering WWII: War's lasting effects

Delta Museum's special World War II exhibit opened Nov. 7, with living veterans sharing their stories and a presentation made to Ensign Bellmire's family. Bellmire was killed during a training exercise during the war.

2015 Soper/Delta County Historical Society photo 

"The war took my dad. He wasn't going to knock on my door and tell me it was all a mistake," Vicky Lehmann said during an emotional interview.

Lehmann had just turned one year old when her father was shot in the head and killed by a German sniper during the Battle of Normandy. This past summer, Lehmann and her husband, Dave, traveled to France, for the first time, to visit her father's grave and pay their respects.

"I longed, growing up, to sit on my daddy's lap, but that never happened," Lehmann said.

"Being able to see his grave brought the closure I needed."

Descendents of those who gave the ultimate sacrifice for the liberation of the European continent from the Nazis are treated with esteem, respect and attention by the American Battlefield Monuments Commission. Families are provided service records and a graveside memorial in which American and French flags are laid at the marker.

"At the grave, they told me my dad was a hero. I had never thought of my dad as being a hero. They explained that he saved a lot of people by helping to end the war and rescue them from Nazi oppression," Lehmann said. "I thought, 'This is kind of an awesome thought.' "

The effects of World War II are long-reaching and Lehmann is not alone in feeling that the war took her dad.

Muriel Marshall, in her book, Where Rivers Meet, describes how Alvin Lee Marts, who enlisted in the Navy after he graduated from Delta High School, was present during the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941.

Alvin Lee Marts died in the
Pacific Theater during World War II.
His bravery led the Navy to
name the USS Marts in his memory.
Historical society photo

Marts went on to "serve at Midway, Wake and other South Pacific battles, but he was killed in action off the coast of Salvo Island on Nov. 30, 1942," Marshall wrote.

Marts served with such distinction and bravery that the U.S. Navy named the USS Marts for him and the local Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) organized as the Lee Marts VFW Post 3571.

The total number of American servicemen and women who gave their lives for their nation during World War II was 407,300. Over 700 men and women from Delta County served in the armed forces during the war, and 83 lost their lives.

The Delta Museum has included a table setting in its special World War II veterans' exhibit to symbolize those who served but never returned home to join their families for holiday festivities.

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M. Soper, "Remembering WWII: War's lasting effects" Delta County Independent (Delta, Colo.) 25 Nov. 2015, pg. B8

Remembering WWII: A medic's perspective

Medics help a wounded soldier during the Battle of Normandy in 1944.
Photo courtesy Library of Congress & Walker Collection / Delta County Historical Society

Bill Rea, a medic, landed with his platoon at Easy Red on Omaha Beach on D-Day plus-one.

Rea, a retired teacher and former Orchard City trustee, was drafted into the Army at age 19.

As the LST (landing ship tank) approached the beach, Nazi "hedgehogs" and mines in the water meant that Rea and others had to jump, shoulder-deep, into the icy Atlantic water and wade ashore. Rea said he distinctively remembered a dead soldier with a flame-thrower lying on the sand, his pack shot open and photographs of his family lying beside him.

A German tank broke the American lines and fired rounds past them, hitting a boat and debris behind them in the water. "The sound was like a handful of gravel hitting a tin roof."

The first night in France Rea spent in a fox hole with .50 cal tracer rounds buzzing just feet above him and anti-aircraft shooting at bombers overhead. Rea said the fear was not always bullets, but shrapnel falling from the sky.

As the Americans pushed further inland, the medics followed, establishing a camp in an apple orchard. On one occasion Rea watched a pilot eject from a P-49 and his chute opened only a few feet above the ground. At the same time, the bomb from the plane landed less than 30 feet from where Rea had been observing the incident. Due to the plane's low altitude, the bomb didn't explode.

As a medic, Rea said, "venereal diseases were the most commonly treated. After liberating Paris, treating syphilis and gonorrhea became the main objective of the non-front line medical.

On one occasion some of the soldiers thought cans labelled "poison" were really alcohol. So they mixed it with grapefruit juice and within an hour 10 soldiers were dead and 75 were en route to the hospital after having consumed muriatic acid, a chemical used for cleaning typewriters, Rea recalled.

A victory ship transported Rea and a couple thousand of his fellow soldiers back to the U.S. in 1945. As the ship came into Boston harbor, Rea said he'd never forget a tugboat coming by with a Christmas tree lit up, "White Christmas" playing from the intercom, and a giant sign that read: "Welcome home -- a job well done!"

Bill Rea at his home in Eckert.
2015 Soper/Historical Society photo

Rea said his only regret was not being able to spend more time on the front lines treating the real heroes, the ones taking bullets for their nation. After the war, Rea used the GI Bill to go to college and become an educator with a specialization in teaching reading, later serving on the Orchard City Board of Trustees.

This is the third in a series of firsthand accounts from Delta County residents who served as soldiers in World War II, supported the troops on the home front and feel the costs of war today. The series coincides with a special exhibit which can be seen at the Delta Museum.


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M. Soper, "Remembering WWII: A medic's perspective" Delta County Independent (Delta, Colo.) 18 Nov. 2015, pg. A8