When Jim Witt, 76, went to the wellness center to soak away his aches in the hot tub, he had no idea that a chance encounter would lead him on a years-long quest to document the stories of World War II.

“France Marsh, a ball turret gunner on a B-17, was one of the friendliest people I ever met,” Witt said.

The two talked about Marsh’s adventures, and Witt knew those stories shouldn’t be lost.

Greg Brumfield, 49, came to the same conclusion when he accompanied veterans on Honor Flights to the National World War II Memorial in Washington, DC.

Brumfield had listened to an older friend’s stories about his 3 1/2 years as a prisoner of war, and was fascinated by that time in history. His grandfather, also a veteran, would tell him stories, too, but became too emotional to finish and eventually passed away.

Due to several high school knee injuries, Brumfield couldn’t serve in the armed forces himself, but has always respected the men and women who served their country.

“I want to preserve [their] stories before they’re gone,” Brumfield said. This is a real threat, as most World War II veterans are in their 90s. Witt and Brumfield teamed up to create the World War II Veterans’ History Project, recording interviews with vets, putting them onto CDs and giving a copy to each interviewee.

“I’d eventually like to write a book that includes these stories,” Brumfield said. “They don’t teach this in history classes anymore.”

Two wings and a prayer

Interviews are conducted at veterans’ convenience and can last 15 minutes to a couple of hours, depending on how forthcoming they are. Witt and Brumfield ask where they were born and raised, how and when they joined the service, what branch they served in, what they trained for, what they actually did and what a typical day consisted of. They also ask about rank, where the vet served, the friends they made and why so many don’t want to talk about the war. They’re interested in when they returned and what they did back in civilian life.

Both Witt and Brumfield agree that World War II was the biggest thing to happen in world history. It’s also the only war America fought on two fronts. Soldiers sacrificed their lives—or years of them—for their country, and those sacrifices should be recorded before they’re forgotten.

“It’s nice to know people are interested,” said Ben Carnes, 91.

Carnes joined the Air Force weeks after turning 18 and flew 19 missions before his next birthday. As a cadet, he received gunnery training and was assigned to the 15th Army Air Force, 2nd Bomb Group, 20th Squadron in Italy to take out Axis refineries. He served as a gunner until the bombardier was killed on the eighth mission and he moved into that position.

“We lost 178 bombers during the war,” he recalled.

He also took part in the bombing of a refinery south of Berlin that manufactured fuel for the Messerschmitt 262, the first German jet to enter the conflict. The flight was 750 miles one way and seemed doomed from the start.

“Before we left, our commander said, ‘Gentlemen, we don’t expect any of you to come back,’” Carnes said. But “the good God gave us a strong tailwind as we flew up the Adriatic Sea.”

They dropped the bombs and returned on two wings and a prayer.

“War is hell”

George Golombowski, 96, served for 2 1/2 years as a second class gunner’s mate on a destroyer in the Pacific. He kept a secret journal, which was strictly against regulations.

He recalled a mission where the destroyer succeeded in sinking a Japanese freighter. In a few minutes, hundreds of people started floating to the surface. Terrified of what the Americans might do to them, some of the Japanese committed hara-kiri (suicide by sword) before the destroyer reached them. But the U.S. sailors were saving those they could reach.

“There was this big guy, about six-foot four,” Golombowski said. “He was on the fantail and started just grabbing survivors and throwing them on board.”

More than 100 Japanese were rescued, but the seas became rough and the crew had to give up on the other hundred or so still in the water. That bothered Golombowski for a long time.

“I kept wondering if they had wives. What became of their children?” he said. “War is hell.”

Another perspective

Erwin Knirlberger, 97, gave a different slant to the veteran experience. He was 19 when he was conscripted into the German work service.

“I carried a shovel, not a gun,” he said.

He was assigned to a ship as a cook, since he worked in a bakery before the war.

When the war ended, the captain surrendered the ship, and the crew was taken to a POW camp, where Knirlberger remained for a year and half.

“We were treated rather nicely,” he said, but the food left a lot to be desired. “We were undernourished. The Americans didn’t treat us any better than the Germans treated their American prisoners.”

Knirlberger attempted to escape three times before succeeding by tunneling out under a latrine, using a spoon. The prisoners faked using the latrine, then crawled into the hole to dig. Eventually he and two others broke through and walked into town, where a priest took him home, fed him and gave him civilian clothes, then bought him a train ticket to Genoa.

Knirlberger saw U.S. Military Police checking passengers, so he went out the back door and hid in a boxcar, then headed back to Germany on foot, keeping to the trees instead of the road to avoid capture until he was spotted by border guards who told him he was in Austria. He ended up in Tann, Germany, his birthplace. He had no identity card, but a relative who worked for the city created a fake one for him. He worked in Germany until moving to Illinois in 1951.

Sharing the good and the bad

Witt and Brumfield are also interested in memories that vets have already recorded or written. To share stories, interested vets may call Witt at 209-9241 or Brumfield at 640-4004.