1TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page 4
Chemical Warfare Service:World War I’s House of Horrors

The Little-Known Service of Branch Rickey,
Ty Cobb and the Great Matty

Page 6BASEBALL GOES TO WAR

The National Pastime In World War II

Page 9Cecil Travis: What Might HAVE BEEN
Page 10
Yogi Berra: A Witness to D-Day

Page 11
JIM CROW ON TRIAL

Jackie Robinson’s 1944 Court Martial

Page 14
Ted Williams AT war
Page 16
TIME OUT FOR WAR

From My Life in the Negro Leagues

Page 17
THE BALLPLAYERS OF BEDFORD
Page 18
Hank Gowdy

Page 20
NO GREATER LOVE

Baseball player and war hero

Page 21
MOE BERG

An Advertising Supplement
to the Stars and Stripes

Page 22
Q & A WITH GEORGE H. W. BUSH
2

Designed by Chris Verigan
Special Thanks to Frank Ceresi for
his collection of photos and articles
www.fcassociates.com

3

Chemical Warfare Service:World War I’s House of Horrors
The Little-Known Service of Branch Rickey, Ty Cobb and the Great Matty
Imagine that you are scared, cold and hungry, on
foreign turf, fighting in the trenches against an enemy
that wants nothing better than to annihilate you andyour comrades. Imagine that as you inch forward
in battle the enemy begins to lob cylinders of gas
in your direction and then follows up immediatelyby shooting directly at you rifle pellets filled withsomething you vaguely remember as being called“phosegene gas.” A sickly smell now fills the air.
You are so glad that you had your gas mask on eventhough it is unwieldy and adds more weight to yourtiring body. Now imagine that you look towards yourside where your buddy is, and see that he could notreach to his belt quickly enough to put his mask onover his face so that you see that he took in a small
breath of “exposed” air. Then imagine within an
instant his terror-stricken eyes opening wide, his faceturning purple as he looks through you – and within
seconds he is dead.
Such scenes of horror dominated trench fighting inFrance during World War I and three of the mostinfluential and celebrated baseball icons of all time
– Ty Cobb, Christy Mathewson, and Branch Rickey –served in a special elite unit to combat this terror, theChemical Warfare Service, at the very same time inthe same division during the most crucial time of thewar. How was it that these three extraordinary men,none of them youngsters pining to show off their
youthful mettle, would end up leaving the safety of thebaseball diamond and their families and voluntarily
join the service to defend their country overseas andbattle the enemy in a most brutal fashion?
Precious little has been written about this trio andtheir link in war but it is a story that reveals muchabout qualities of character that resonate on the ballfield and in the battlefield. Rickey was 38 years ofage and the sole support of four young children.
Matty, already retired from baseball after notching
373 victories, was also 38 with a family. And Cobb,
fresh from leading the American League in batting, afeat he would accomplish more often than any man
in the history of the game, was the “youthful” ageof 32. He was also the sole support of his family.
Without question, all three could have easily stayedhome and aided their country by using their celebrity
to head war-bond drives or some similar activity toraise needed capital. But the answer to the questionof why they chose the Chemical Warfare Service not
only reflects their intense patriotism but also speaks
volumes to the strength of their personal characterand leadership capabilities. To fully grasp thesacrifices these men made during a time of war, onemust first learn of the importance and unique role of
the Chemical Warfare Service.
The Chemical Warfare Service, or “The Gas andFlame Division” as it would commonly be called, wascreated at the height of the war to quell a growing
public alarm as news of gas attacks such as describedabove began to filter home and soldiers on the front
lines wrote their families about “gas attacks,” adeadly and virulent horror of war introduced on thebattlefields by the Germans two and a half years
earlier. At first, soldiers were given simple gas masks
to carry as potential protection but the masks were
cumbersome, ineffective, and required the men tobreathe through large, unwieldy tubes. By 1918 themilitary was increasingly concerned and redoubled

4

efforts to meet the gas threat. After all, eight million
men had died during the bloody war in just four years!
During the summer of 1918, the brass hatched a plan,secret at first, to repel the attacks with a new elite
fighting unit officially named The Chemical Warfare
Service. Choosing Washington, D.C., as a backdrop
to heighten the importance of the plan, they gathered
the most influential members of the press to break thenews. They wanted news of the unit to receive themaximum amount of coverage possible not only as
a way to scope out men of extraordinary leadershipcapabilities, but to inform the public that they would
stem the frightening consequence of the German gas
attacks in a most effective way.
Major General William L. Sibert told the waiting press
corps that the military would combat this “inhuman”
form of warfare by recruiting baseball players andathletes with exceptional skill. Significantly, he also
said that the armed forces would not simply rely on
the youngest members of the public to resist these
attacks. He emphasized: “We do not just want goodyoung athletes…we are searching for good, strong
men, endowed with extraordinary capabilities tolead others during gas attacks”. The die was cast.
The “Gas and Flame Division” would only be open
to men, strong of body and mind, who had proventhemselves to be leaders as athletes and capableof exercising superior judgment in an emergency.
Long before Tom Wolfe coined the phrase, they
were looking for men with the “right stuff,” andwhat better pool of men to draw from than baseballplayers who proved their leadership capabilities at
the highest level of play? Men like Branch Rickey,

Ty Cobb (right) during his service

who volunteered to serve in this new and importantsquad, would be commissioned as a major. Similarly,
his friends Mathewson, nicknamed “The Christian
Gentleman” because of his gentle ways, and the fierce
Cobb, already American icons, would be recruited as
captains. By August, all three had been accepted into
the “Gas and Flame Division.”
The pace of the war accelerated quickly. Within a
few weeks of their acceptance, the three men’s lives
intersected in a way much different than when theirdays were filled with baseball. In September, Cobb
and Rickey were told to immediately report for duty
and secretly sail with their division to France tojoin others, including Matty, who had already beenstationed near the front lines for weeks. The war was
at a critical stage. The three were to join one another,with Rickey taking command of the unit. They were
tasked to prepare for battle with special orders toanticipate German gas attacks where the heaviest
trench fighting would be, then turn the tables on theenemy by quickly spraying their flanks with jets offlame from tanks strapped onto their backs. Then,
once their tanks emptied, they were to lob special“gas grenades” at the fallen Germans and clear thearea. The men were primed! The trio’s unit alreadyhad participated in several operations supporting
allied tanks and infantry. Now their ranks would swellby a fresh batch of men, including three of baseball’s
best.
By September, the Germans threw caution to thewind and mustered as much of an attack in France
as they could. The battles in the northeast of France
would be the most decisive in the war. If the Germans
won, the war would continue indefinitely. Then, as
the “Gas and Flame Division” and its famous recruits
readying for combat would learn, even preparing andtraining for dangerous duty could have disastrous
consequences. It was during their final training run thattragedy did strike one of the three. Cobb, in his 1961

How was it that these three extraordinary men...would end up
leaving the safety of the baseball diamond and their families andvoluntarily join the service to defend their country overseas andbattle the enemy in a most brutal fashion?
autobiography, “My Life In Baseball,” graphicallydescribed what happened: “I will never forget the
day when some of the men, myself included, missed
the signal (to snap their mask into position). Men
screamed…when they got a whiff of the sweet deathin the air, they went crazy with fear and I remember
Mathewson telling me ‘Ty, I got a good dose of the
stuff. I feel terrible’….I saw Christy Mathewson
doomed to die.” Cobb felt that his life was spared
only through “the touch of Divine Providence.” Cobb

was lucky. We shall see that Matty was not.
But fate would have things in store for the trio otherthan trench warfare, because as October turned toNovember the rumors of surrender proved true. On
Armistice Day, November 11, 1918, the Germans
surrendered. The bloodiest world war was finally over.
Within weeks, the three, their lives changed foreverand inexorably linked by their valor as military men,
returned to the United States where they and countless

5others were met by a war-weary nation wanting
desperately to move on. By early 1919, Rickey rejoined the Cardinals and honed one of the shrewdest
baseball minds ever. A sick and tired Cobb announced
his retirement but after several weeks regained his
strength and decided to return to the game he loved.
Cobb played eight more years before retiring forgood with a .367 lifetime batting average, the highestof all time. The consequences of the gas, however,would linger within Matty’s once strapping system.
Upon his return, Mathewson never really regained hishealth. Sadly, in 1925, after a long series of illnesses,
at the age of 45, he succumbed to tuberculosis, hisbody having been compromised from the exposure togas from his service to the country and complications
inherent from his weakened system.
Today, all three men are enshrined in the Baseball Hallof Fame. Their leadership qualities, the very traits thatmoved them to join the military elite in the “Gas andFlame Division,” resonate to this day. Ty Cobb is stillwidely recognized as being one of the top two or threebaseball players of all time. Christy Mathewson, whoselife ended prematurely because of his service in the “Gasand Flame Division”, is a beloved figure, recognized as
being amongst the top pitchers ever. And the patriotic
Branch Rickey’s place in our culture grows with eachyear. When he helped set the stage for the civil rights
movement by helping Jackie Robinson shatter the color
barrier, nearly 30 years after his service in the “Gas andFlame Division,” the “Mahatma” – as members of thepress affectionately called him – opened the door forthe equal rights for everyone.
by Frank Ceresi

BASEBALL GOES TO WAR

The National Pastime In World War II
The national pastime played a key role in the American
war effort during World War II, and it is a story that has
not been fully told.
From the frozen tundra of Iceland to the jungles of theSouth Pacific; from the deserts of North Africa to the
Nazi stadium in Nuremberg, American soldiers, sailors,
airmen and Marines played baseball whenever, andwherever, they could.
All told, over 500 major league and more than 2,000
minor league baseball players went into the armed forces.
Among the first of these was Bob Feller, the right-handed
star pitcher for the Cleveland Indians. Feller was the sole
support for his family because his father, an Iowa farmer,
was dying of cancer, and because of this he could have
easily gotten a deferment. Instead, upon hearing of theJapanese attack on Pearl Harbor, he drove to Chicago andreported to a Navy recruiting office.
“We were losing the war,” Feller said. “We needed
heroes.”Feller subsequently served as a gun captain on board thebattleship Alabama and saw action in the Atlantic andthen in the Pacific theater, participating in numerous
battles. But baseball was not left behind. Feller played
baseball and softball in Scotland, Iceland and on
numerous islands in the Pacific.
Among the many other baseball stars serving were Stan
Musial, Joe DiMaggio, Ted Williams, Warren Spahn,
Yogi Berra, Pee Wee Reese, Phil Rizutto and Hank
Greenberg.

would be suspended for the duration of the war.
However, In his famous “green light” letter, to Major
League Baseball Commissioner Kennesaw Mountain
Landis, President Roosevelt expressed his personal hopethat baseball would continue during the war because of
its impact on the citizenry. (see letter on page 3)
Baseball responded to this request, maintaining a fullschedule of games and drawing on teenagers, over-thehill veterans and “the lame, the halt and the blind” to fillout the major and minor league rosters.
Among the more unusual replacement players was PeteGray, an outfielder for the St. Louis Browns. Gray had
lost his right arm in an accident, but nonetheless managed
to bat one-handed, as well as field fly balls and grounders
in the outfield and then throw them into the infield by aremarkable method of flipping and rolling the ball.
Although the quality of play may have suffered during
the war years, the fans turned out in droves to follow
their favorite teams, with servicemen in uniform admitted
free.
Baseball also got its fans to support the war effort
financially, with the players taking part of their salaries
in war bonds. The players and owners were also active infundraising drives.

Baseball on the Homefront

In one notable fundraising extravaganza, Washington
Post sports columnist-turned-impresario Shirley Povich
packed 30,000-seat Griffith Stadium for an exhibition
game between the Washington Senators and a team ofNavy All-Stars featuring such players as Feller, Rizutto
and DiMaggio. (Needless to say, the All-Stars won.)

Given the loss of professional players to the services,
there was much speculation that professional baseball

Also helping to attract a crowd were singers Kate Smithand Bing Crosby and a guest appearance by Babe Ruth.

The event raised $2 million enough to construct a Navycruiser.
Another successful innovation of the war years wasprofessional women’s baseball – specifically the All
American Girls Professional Baseball League formedby Chicago chewing gum magnate William Wrigley.
Working on the assumption that professional baseballwould be suspended at some point, Wrigley organizeda women’s league as a way of maintaining fan interestin the game.
Teams were organized in six Midwestern cities(eventually growing to eight) and the women chosenwere instructed to “look like ladies and play like men.”
All players were required to attend charm school classes
and to wear short skirts and knee socks. The latterprovided precious little protection when sliding into
bases. Heavily chaperoned and forced to endure long bus
trips from city to city, the players nonetheless thrived on
the rugged routine and they became a popular attraction
for millions of people throughout the region.
Even today the alumnae of the League (which folded in1954) are an active, though dwindling, group, maintaining
an alumnae association with regular meetings andpublications.
In the wake of the popular movie “A League of Their
Own,” the ladies are enjoying a second burst of celebrity
status.
One of the most poignant examples of baseball’s appeal
could be seen in the internment camps establishedin several western states for the Nisei or JapaneseAmericans. More than 100,00 were interned during the
war and in most of the camps baseball fields were built
and leagues were formed.

Baseball in the European Theater
By early 1942, American servicemen were beginning topour into Britain in preparation for the eventual invasionof the Continent and the push towards Berlin. By 1944,
1.5 million Yanks were in Britain and they were playing
baseball all over the kingdom.
The British, deprived of professional sports for theduration of the war, flocked to watch these games whichwere reported on regularly by the press. Numerous
eminent individuals including Queen Mary, Mrs. Winston
Churchill and assorted dukes, bishops and local officials
attended these games and often threw out the first ball.
Numerous games were organized to raise funds for the
war effort, with an estimated $344,000 being raised bybaseball in 1943 alone.
Following the Normandy invasion, baseball crossed thechannel and was soon being played all across Europe in
the wake of the advancing U.S. troops.

Bob Feller
6

Among those troops was private Warren Spahn who

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Bert Shepard
participated in the battle of the Hurtgin Forest and theBattle of the Bulge
In both campaigns, German soldiers wore captured
American uniforms to infiltrate U.S. lines and, according
to Spahn, baseball terms and lore were used extensively
by the Yanks as identification tactics.
“If you saw an unidentified man approaching the lines,”
Spahn said, “you might yell out ‘who plays second sackfor the Bums?’ (Translation: who plays second base forthe Dodgers?). “If he didn’t know the answer, he was adead man.”Bert Shepard, an Army Air Corps pilot who was shot
down by the Germans and imprisoned in a German POW
camp said, “Every time a new prisoner came into thecamp he was besieged by guys wanting to know how
their favorite team was doing back home.”
Shepard himself provided one of the most amazing
baseball stories to come out of the World War II. Whenhe was hit by German anti-aircraft fire during a strafing
run his leg was shattered. After parachuting to the groundhe was rescued from an angry mob of German villagers
by a German medic who amputated the leg and saved
Shepard’s life.
Following the American liberation of the camp, Shepard
came home and was fitted with a prosthesis. Shepard,
who had been a pitcher in the Washington Senators’
farm system, returned to the minor leagues and was soon
called up by the Senators. Amazingly, Shepard pitched agame on his artificial leg and won. Repeated surgeries,
however, sidelined him as a major league player although
he did continue to pitch in the minor leagues.
As the servicemen advanced across Europe, baseballwent with them and rudimentary fields were hastily built
along the way, from the low countries of Holland andBelgium to the Bavarian Alps.
Among the millions of British subjects who were
exposed to baseball was a young lad by the name ofGary Bedingfield. The boy fell in love with this strange

and wonderful Yankee import and has continued to bea fan ever since. Bedingfield now maintains a Web site
“Baseball in Wartime” – the only one exclusively devoted
to baseball in World War II.

as did Navy sailors. Every ship of any size had at least
one team and virtually every port visit resulted in games
against Army or Marine teams or teams from otherships.

Of the war’s aftermath Bedingfield writes:“On May 7, 1945, the day after the German surrender,
engineer units, formerly engaged in building combat
bridges and airfields, enthusiastically set abouttransforming the battlefields of Europe into ballfields,
while hundreds of athletic officers set in motion theadministration and organizational requirements. Neverbefore had there been an athletic program of suchmagnitude. The amount of equipment required wascolossal, and shortly after VE Day, the War Department
in Washington, D.C., made available an inventory ofsporting goods that included 85,964 ball gloves, 72,850
baseballs and 131,130 bats. By mid-summer 200,000
troops were playing in competitive leagues, military
duties were scheduled around games and combat units
temporarily put aside the emotional and physical scarsof recent battles in their pursuit to be the best team in
their region. While the Cubs and Tigers battled for theWorld Series crown back home, the GI’s World Series in
Europe took place before 50,000 servicemen in a stadiumin Nuremberg, Germany. Just six years earlier a similar
sized crowd had reached a deafening tone as they cheereda vast array of Nazi armament that paraded before them.
On this day, former National League pitcher Sam Nahem,with able assistance from Negro League hero Leon Day,
led the OISE all-stars to a thrilling five game victory
against the mighty 71st Infantry Division.”

Perhaps the most famous competition was the PacificWorld Series held in Hawaii between teams of Army andNavy All-Stars. Most of them were star players from the
major leagues. Admiral Chester Nimitz threw out thefirst ball.

Baseball in the Pacific Theater
As in Europe, baseball was played throughout the Pacificduring the war. As the Marines went ashore on island
after island across the Pacific, the Seabees followed,
clearing land for baseball fields in such exotic locales as
Tarawa, Guadalcanal, Saipan and Guam. (According to
Bob Feller, the best field was on the island of Ulithi)
Army troops also played the game extensively inAustralia, the Philippines, New Guinea and elsewhere,

7

The Marines had their own “little World Series” inJanuary 1945 between the All-Stars of the Second Marine
Division, based on Saipan, and Third Marine Division
All-Stars, based on Guam.
The star pitcher for that series was James “Jimmy”
Trimble, a graduate of St. Albans School in Washington
D.C., who had been signed by Clark Griffith of the
Washington Senators. He is still rated the best highschool pitcher in Washington D.C. history and many ofhis surviving contemporaries think he could have been
the next Walter Johnson or Bob Feller.
Trimble volunteered for a hazardous scouting mission on
Iwo Jima and was killed in hand-to-hand fighting when
the Japanese overran his position.
Gen. Graves Erskine had the baseball field on Guam
named Trimble Field in his honor.
Before the war began baseball was, of course, segregatedon the home front, and that practice persisted in thearmed services. In their segregated units the blacksoldiers, sailors and airmen formed baseball teams andleagues just as their white counterparts did.
The evils of segregation persisted also, with evenlegendary African-American players such as John
“Buck” O’Neil not being exempted.
O’Neil played on nine championship teams during an
18-year career in the Negro Leagues. He was a player,
a coach and manager, and many say he perfectly
represented the spirit of the Negro Leagues.

Despite qualifying for an exemption from military
service, O’Neil insisted on doing his part and he joined
the Navy Seabees and was sent to the South Pacific. (Oneof the Seabees’ more pleasant duties was using bulldozers
to carve baseball fields out of islands from New Guinea
to the Aleutians.
Assigned to Subic Bay in the Philippines towards the endof the war, O’Neil recalled an incident there in which heand his fellow soldiers took a load of ammunition to a
destroyer.
“We got there in an LST, and started sending ammunition
up. Then somebody started blowing taps. The little ensign
on the deck got on and said, “Attention Niggers!” Whenhe said that I went up that ladder and said, “Do you knowwhat you’re saying? I am a Navy man! I just happen to be
black. I’m fighting for the same thing you are.”insatiable appetite for the game.
“Professional teams such as Kyojin (Tokyo) and theHanshin (Osaka) Tigers played 80-plus games a season
between 1940 and 1943. However, the draw on manpower
reduced teams to a 35-game season in 1944, playing one
game every four days. By 1945 nearly all professional
players from Japan’s eight teams were in military service
and 69 of them were killed, including national superstars
Eiji Sawamura and Shinichi Ishimaru.”
Not only were the Japanese passionate fans of their own
teams, they followed the American game closely as welland many American baseball stars such as Babe Ruth and
Lou Gehrig toured Japan and received wildly enthusiastic
receptions.

projection of what their stats would have been if they had
not served during the war.
Bill Gilbert, in his 1942 book, “They Also Served,”
summed up the findings:“Winne discovered that Williams would have become
the all-time RBI champion if he hadn’t lost those three
years during World War II and two more in Korea. He
also would have hit 222 more home runs, giving him
743, second only to Hank Aaron’s 755. Instead, he hit
521 and ranks eighth.
DiMaggio, Mize, and Greenberg all would have hit morethan 500 home runs. As it was, none of them came close.
DiMaggio had the most, 361, 2 more than Mize, and 30
more than Greenberg.

The captain was called and the ensign berated. O’Neilcontinued, “The thing about it was when he sat back andthought about it, he started to cry.. I said, “don’t cry, just
don’t do it anymore.”

Interestingly, Washington Senators catcher Moe Berg
worked on the side as an intelligence agent for the U.S.
government and he took advantage of several pre-war
tours of Japan to take home movies of several Japanesecities. These films were later used in the planning ofJimmy Doolittle’s famous raid over Japan in 1942.

For pitchers, Winnie’s formula shows Feller would have
won another 107 games, giving him 373 for his careerinstead of 266, plus another 1,070 strikeouts, five nohitters instead of three, and 19 one-hitters instead of 12.

Japanese BaseballWar’s End

An interesting sidelight to the story of baseball in WorldWar II is Japanese baseball. Americans introduced
baseball to the Japanese in the late 19th century and in
the 50 years leading up to the war the game grew steadilyin popularity. In the 1930s baseball or “basa baru” as theJapanese called it – was played at the professional levelwith an eight-team league and two seasons.

Following the war the major leaguers came back home(with the exception of two – Washington Senators
outfielder Elmer Gedeon and Philadelphia Athletics
catcher Harry O’Neil, both of whom were killed incombat). Many of the players retired because they had
become too old or (like perennial All-Star Senators
shortstop Cecil Travis) because of war injuries.

Baseball historian Gary Bedingfield notes on his Baseballin Wartime Website: “During World War II, the Japanese
professional league continued to play until August
1944. Just as in the United States, the game served asa major morale booster to civilians and servicemen, anddespite being at war with the nation that introduced themto baseball, the Japanese people could not curb theirMost, however, returned to the ballparks, where they
faced a tough year of readjustment. Even those whowent on to great success had lost several years of prime
playing time.

Feller said, “I’m very proud of my war record, just likemy baseball record. I would never have been able to face
anybody and talk about my baseball record if I hadn’t
spent time in the service.”

A Seattle computer specialist, Ralph Winnie, did ananalysis of the data on the major leagues and published a

by James C. Roberts
President, WWII Veterans Committee

Feller would have ended his career with twenty-one
full seasons instead of seventeen years and six weeks
in 1945. Spahn would have had the third most wins inhistory instead of fifth.”
Gilbert adds: “The players who lost that time and thoseadditional numbers have never expressed any sense of
bitterness or resentment. Feller, Slaughter and Williams
are typical. Appearing on “Major League BaseballMagazine,” they spoke unselfishly about the time theylost during World War II.”

VETERANS HISTORY PROJECTCOMMISSIONED BY CONGRESS to collectand preserve the recollections of wartime
veterans, the Veterans History Project, aprogram of the Library of Congress American
Folklife Center, archives narratives of service
from veterans of World War I through thecurrent conflict in Iraq. Each story is unique,but taken as a whole the Project puts a familiar
face on the universal realities of war.
Former major leaguer Bob Feller is among
55,000 veterans whose firsthand accountsof service are preserved in the Project’s
archives.
On Dec. 8, 1941, Bob Feller enlisted in theNavy, becoming the first Major League
Baseball player to volunteer for combat
service following the attack on Pearl Harbor.

Feller served as Gun Captain aboard the USS
Alabama, and missed four seasons during his
service in World War II, being decorated withfive campaign ribbons and eight battle stars.
One year after his return to major league
action, in 1946, he registered an incredible
348 strikeouts while pitching in 48 games,
starting 42 of those games. That year Bob was
26-15 with an ERA of 2.18 while pitching 36
complete games. He led the American League
in strikeouts seven times and had 200 or morestrikeouts five times.
Bob pitched in 570 games during his career,and pitched in 40 or more games in six seasons.
Bob also threw three no-hit games, including
the only Opening Day no-hitter in baseballhistory in 1940. He had 46 shutouts during his
career with 10 of those coming in 1946. Many8

baseball historians have speculated that Feller
would have won perhaps 350 games with wellover 3,000 strikeouts had he not joined themilitary. Even still, he was honored as “Thegreatest pitcher of his time” by the SportingNews.
The Veterans History Project relies solely on
volunteers nationwide to interview veteransand submit their recollections, as well as
diaries, memoirs, letters, and photographs,
to the Library of Congress. Those interested
in supporting the Project are encouraged
download a VHP Field Kit from the Veterans
History Project Web site at www.loc.gov/vets,
request a kit via email at vohp@loc.gov or callthe toll-free message line at (888) 371-5848.

World War II interrupted the careers of more than 4,000
professional baseball players. For Cecil Travis it wasmore than an interruption. It was a permanent diversion
from the road to the Hall of Fame.
Cecil Travis was born on a farm in Riverdale, Ga., on
Aug. 8, 1913. His professional baseball career began
in 1931 at the age of just 17, when he hit .469 with
Chattanooga of the Southern Association. The young
infielder was called up by the Washington Senators in
May 1933, getting five hits in his first game.

Cecil Travis

Despite his youthfulness, Travis quickly establishedhimself as one of the American League’s outstanding
players. Had he not been playing for the perennial
second-division Senators he would have been hailed asuperstar. Playing shortstop and third base, Travis hadcompiled a lifetime batting average of .322 by 1940,and his 1941 season was by far his best. Playing in 152
games for the Senators, Travis batted an outstanding.359 (second only to Ted Williams’ incredible .406) andled the league with 218 hits.
Travis had reached the top of his game, but just as
quickly his career was put on hold. He entered military
service in January 1942, and thought he might be in fora year or so. Twenty-eight at the time, he would be awayfrom the game for almost four years.
He reported to Camp Wheeler, Ga. as a buck private
during the dark days following Pearl Harbor. His greetingfrom Col. Charles P. Sutherland was: “Well, son, you’ve
finally caught up with a world championship outfit.”
Travis learned to be a soldier and played baseball in
his spare time with the Camp Wheeler Spokes. In May
1944, Sgt. Travis was assigned to the 76th Infantry
Division’s combat training facility at Camp McCoy,
Wis., where he found time to play ball with the divisionteam and helped them capture the Wisconsin State semipro championship.
Travis was sent to Europe with the 76th Infantry Divisionin late 1944 and entered combat in January 1945. “Heck,
you was in that snow,” he recalled some years later, “andyou was out in that weather, and you was lucky you got
to stay in an old barn at night. The thing about it, you’dsit there in those boots, and you might not get ’em off
for days at a time. And cold! You’d just shake at night.
Your feet would start swelling, and that’s how you’dfind out there was something really wrong – you’d pullyour boots off, and your feet is swelling.”
The 76th Infantry Division advanced more than 400
miles against hostile resistance in 110 days of combat.
Together with the 6th Armored Division it formed thespearhead of the Third Army’s plunge across Germany
toward Czechoslovakia. The division was within 50
miles of the Czech border when the war in Europe
ended.
Sgt. Travis received a Bronze Star and four battle stars
during his time in Europe. He received his discharge on
Sept. 6, 1945, and immediately returned to the Senators.
“It was amazing the way Cece swung in his drill at
Griffith Stadium yesterday,” reported John B. Kellerof the Washington Evening Star on Sept. 8, 1945. “Hiseasy left-hand stance at the plate was no different fromthat he assumed when he was one of the sensations of
the American League in offense.”
But the truth was the 31-year-old was seriously out ofcondition. He was slow afoot, his bat speed was sluggish
and his feet still hurt. Travis played his first major league
game in four years on Sept. 8, 1945. He played 15 games

What Might have Been
before the season ended and batted an uncharacteristic.241.
Everyone, including Travis himself, hoped the offseason
rest and spring training would bring back the magic. In
1946, manager Ossie Bluege played him a lot of the timeat third base where less range was required, and there
were days when he looked like the pre-war All-Star hehad been. But those days were few and far between.
Travis batted just .252 in 1946 and struggled to keep
his average above .200 in 1947. For the first time in his
career, he found himself sitting on the bench.
One month before the end of the season he was honoredwith “Cecil Travis Night” at Griffith Stadium, with
General Dwight D. Eisenhower in attendance. Why
honor a player who was little more than a bench warmerat that stage? Because Cecil Travis was one of thenicest, most honorable gentlemen to ever play the gameof baseball. When major league umpire Bill McGowan
was chatting with a group of soldiers after a USO show
during the war, somebody asked, “Who would you say
was the player who had given you the least trouble in a
major league game, the one you think most admirable in9

his conduct on the field and at bat?”“Cecil Travis,” McGowan replied without hesitation.
Travis left the game as graciously as he had come into it.
“My problem was my timing. I could never seem to get
it back the way it was after laying out so long. I saw I
wasn’t helping the ballclub, so I just gave it up.”Travis declined an offer to manage in the minors andreturned instead to his family cattle farm in Georgia. “Iwould like to have done better when I came back,” hesaid, “but I feel lucky to have come back at all.
Cecil Travis was 93 when he passed away at his home inRiverdale, Ga. on Dec. 16, 2006.
He was inducted into the Georgia Sports Hall of Famein 1975 and added to the Hall of Stars at Washington’s
RFK Stadium in 1993. Despite his .314 career average
being better than 19 of 21 Hall of Fame shortstops, hehas been overlooked by Cooperstown.

by Gary Bedingfieldwww.baseballinwartime.com

YOGI BERRA: A Witness to D-Day
Landing Craft Support Small (LCSS) Rocket Launcher.
He later admitted being attracted by the word “rocket,”sensing adventure, like something out of the Buck
Rogers comic books he’d been reading.

explosions. There was one moment when all the fire andflame of the invasion got to him and he poked his headup over the side of the LCSS. “Get your head down”
yelled his commander, “if you want to keep it on.”“I didn’t think about it being dangerous,” he said of his
new duty. “Anyway, I wanted to be doing something.”

When The Longest Day ended, the Allies paid a heavy
price. Luckily for Berra’s boat, no one died during theinvasion which landed the Allied troops, who eventuallyliberated France and helped bring Germany’s defeat 11
months later.

Rocket boats – 36-foot wood-and-steel crafts with sixman crews and armed with six twin-fifty machine guns
and twelve rockets – had been tested the previous yearby the American and British navies. They were to playa major part in the coming invasion of Europe. They
demanded that the men learn their jobs well. Lives weredepended on teamwork. The mission was also a topdrawer secret.
For five weeks, Seaman 2nd Class Lawrence Berra andhis comrades trained intensively at Little Creek. Afterthe secret training, they were moved to Lido Beach on
Long Island, then embarked across the Atlantic for adangerous day that would change history.

In the wartime spring of 1943, a 17-year-old baseballhopeful named Lawrence Peter Berra didn’t know quite
what to expect. The stumpy, moon-faced kid better
known as Yogi was getting his first taste of professional
baseball, a $90-a-month neophyte with the Norfolk(Va.) Tars of the Class B Piedmont League.
Normally a tranquil city of 180,000, Norfolk was anotherpart of the New York Yankees’ fertile farm system. But
Norfolk wasn’t normal or tranquil during World War II.
Overwhelmed by the war industry, the port city had
been transformed into a jam-packed habitat of 750,000,
a population mostly tied to the burgeoning naval bases
and construction shipyards, following Pearl Harbor.
To the shy youngster from a close-knit Italianneighborhood in southwest St. Louis, the whiff of war
was everywhere. Norfolk was teeming with servicemen
and defense workers. And Berra was on borrowed time
as a civilian.
On May 12, just as he celebrated his 18th birthday,
Yogi received a notice from Uncle Sam to take his
pre-induction physical. A postponement enabled
him to finish the baseball season, and he batted arespectable .253 in his first year in organized ball. Berracaught people’s attention with an incredible 23-RBI
performance in a doubleheader against Roanoke.

The D-Day invasion was set for June 4, 1944. But
General Dwight Eisenhower cancelled the perilous
operation because of torrential rain and near-hurricane
winds. Yogi, a devout Catholic, never lost faith.
Admittedly bothered by the tension and waiting forwhat Eisenhower called “Operation Overlord,” thecode name for the invasion of southern France, Berrabelieved he was too young to die. He didn’t dwell on
the magnitude of it all.
In the still-dark morning hours of June 6, Yogi Berra’s
boat was lowered out of the Bayfield and into theEnglish Channel. They were a few miles from the shore
of Normandy, and would wind up 300 yards off Omaha
Beach. “Our job was to help soften the German defenses
for the troops who were wading ashore behind us,”
Berra said. “We went in ahead of the LCI’s and blasted
with our rocket guys, knocking out gun emplacements
and obstacles.”The rocket boats worked as a team. They fanned out,
100 yards apart, then dashed right toward the beach.
When the invasion started, Berra could barely see thesky because there were so many planes, flares and

For the next two weeks, the LCSS crews worked theChannel, constantly on alert for German air raids. Thenthey were sent to Bizerte, Africa, preparing for anotherinvasion of a stretch of land in France known as Yellow
Beach. It was there Yogi was grazed in the hand by aGerman machine-gun bullet, before the LCSS rockets
blew out the Nazi nest of gunners. When the Americans
landed and secured the beach, Berra remembers the
Frenchmen greeting them, coming out of shelled homes
with bottles of wine and bouquets of flowers.
Over the years, Berra has remained low-key about his
service, as he has been as humble as everything else in
his remarkable life. He became one of baseball’s premier
players, gaining fame as a great New York Yankees
catcher from 1946-63. He was named Most Valuable
Player three times, and won more world championships(10) than anyone in the game’s history. He is beloved andknown by millions for his unwittingly wise aphorisms(“it ain’t over til it’s over”). His namesake museum andlearning center on the campus of Montclair State (N.J.)
University teaches thousands of students each year theimportance of character education.
Like many veterans of World War II, Yogi Berra
maintains a reserve and dignity that symbolizes his
generation.
“I never said that I was in the service, unless someone
asked me,” he said. “There are other things to think
about.”by Dave Kaplan
Dave Kaplan is director of the Yogi Berra Museum & Learning
Center, and co-author of Yogi Berra’s new book, “You Can
Observe A Lot By Watching” (John Wiley & Sons).

But the ballgames would be over for a while. He would
become one of 4,000 minor-league ballplayers in the
war effort. As eager as any young fellow to serve hiscountry, Yogi opted for the Army. He was led to believe
he had a month to report, giving him enough time tovisit his parents and three brothers and sister backhome. But the recruiting officer told him differently.
“You’re in the Navy now,” he was told. And so the
future baseball legend reported for six weeks of boottraining in Bainbridge, Md., then to Norfolk, of allplaces, at the Little Creek base for amphibious training.
He had not a clue as to what lay ahead.
A bit bored by the daily regimen, Yogi decided tovolunteer for a new kind of Navy boat, called the

A teenage Yogi Berra (right) is standing proudly with his father Pietro and brother John shortly after joining the Navy.

10

JIM CROW ON TRIAL

Jackie Robinson’s 1944 Court Martial
In early 1944 25-year-old cavalrytrained officer, 2nd Lt. Jack Roosevelt
Robinson, found that he had beenreassigned to Camp Hood, Texas, aposting many Negroes hated, given
its racial climate. Robinson became
attached to a tank unit, the 761st,
later to distinguish itself in the Battleof the Bulge.
Hood had a dismal
reputation among black officers andenlisted men, not only because of thepost’s reputation as a strict observerof Jim Crow practices but because
neighboring towns were viewed as
especially inhospitable.

continuing medical problems because ofan old football-related ankle injury, he
was fit only for limited duty.
On Aug. 2, with Robinson’s transfer toanother tank unit whose commander
signed off on strategically-altered charges,
the court martial trial took place. His
previous commander, Col. Paul Bates,
spoke glowingly of Robinson’s past job
performance and leadership qualities,
adding that he had wanted Robinson togo overseas as one of his officers. The
Army-appointed defense attorney, Capt.
William A. Cline, skillfully brought out
inconsistencies in prosecution witness
accounts, introduced persuasive evidenceof racial hostility toward the defendant, andshed doubt on the prosecution contention
that while at police headquarters Robinson
clearly received recognizable and specificorders at all. Ultimately, the panel ofadjudicators ruled that the defendant was“Not Guilty.”

Exactly a month after D-Day—assault
landings in which black soldiers had
participated--Lt. Robinson became
involved in a bus incident on base. The
civilian driver ordered Jackie to moveback in seating, a request he refused,suggesting the driver merely drive.
Later, at his stop, Jackie and the driver,joined by the bus dispatcher, continued
to argue – with the latter referring to
Robinson as a “nigger.” When Military
Policemen (MP’s) arrived, a crowd hadformed, adding to the turmoil. The
MP’s asked the black lieutenant to go
to military police headquarters to talkover the situation. Upon arrival, awhite MP ran up to ask if they had “thenigger lieutenant,” agitating Robinson
once more.
Inside, perceived racial remarks andunsolicited observations convinced the
young officer he would not be treatedfairly. Thus, he repeatedly challenged
other persons’ versions of the bus episode and failed toremain in the facility until called to give his own account.
As a consequence, later that month the ex-UCLA athlete
learned that he was to be subjected to a general court
martial. Major charges included a show of disrespect
toward a superior officer and failure to obey a directcommand. Thirteen depositions attesting to Robinson’s
alleged misbehavior had been taken.
Lt. Robinson and fellow black soldiers determined toseek help elsewhere, primarily from the NAACP and the
Negro Press. Robinson also wrote the War Department’s
top race relations trouble-shooter. In a three-page letter
he asked if black newspapers should be informed ofcase specifics to guarantee that the trial would receive
spotlighted attention elsewhere. The defendant to-beclosed, “I don’t mind trouble but I do believe in fair playand justice.”
During the war such incidents occurred frequently,
especially in the South. Only two months before, Armyboxers Joe Louis and “Sugar Ray” Robinson encountered
their own high-profile transportation problem. The twooften journeyed from camp to camp to engage in boxing
exhibitions for their employer, Uncle Sam. This time awhite MP at Camp Sibert (Ala.) brusquely informed Louis

After the episode, Lt. Robinson used thechronically-bad ankle as justificationfor early release from military service,a release which the Army granted withdispatch. Discharge took effect in earlyNovember just as his old unit, the 761st,
was encountering heavy battle conditions
in Europe, eventually suffering heavy
casualties. If Robinson had gone overseas,
he might have been severely injured oreven killed. Soon after, he began playing
with the Kansas City Monarchs in the
Negro Leagues where Brooklyn Dodgers
scouts discovered and recruited him.
that Negroes could not use the bus station telephone when
the bus the pugilists were waiting for did not arrive. This
news enraged the black press. In its view discriminatory
treatment called into question why black Americans
needed to risk lives overseas at all when flagrant ethnic
unfairness flourished at home.
Periodically, War Department officials, tired of dealing
with accumulating bad publicity from ugly racial
disputes, tried to draft remedial directives. However,they discovered it was one thing to issue an order; it wasanother to get local commanders to enforce it. Thus,
Army brass could not have been happy to learn about theimpending Robinson court-martial and that the Pittsburgh
Courier and the Chicago Defender, two of the best andmost zealous Negro weeklies, were on the story.
In addition, the Camp Hood Inspector General’s Officesought higher-level help in the case. On 17 July atelephone conversation took place between “Col.
Kimball” at Hood and the XXIIIrd Corps’ Chief of Staff,
Col. Buie.” Kimball referred to Robinson’s predicament
as “a very serious case . . . full of dynamite,” and added,“I am afraid that any officer in charge of troops at thisPost might be prejudiced.” Col. Buie nonetheless begged
off assisting. Interestingly, a medical retiring board ruled
just before the trial took place that because Robinson had

11Baseball’s integration effort would require the selfsame
qualities Robinson demonstrated before and during thecourt martial. Under girding documents reveal a proudand intelligent young man resolved to confront racism
wherever and whenever he encountered it. In this particular
encounter between Jim Crow and an uncommonly toughand racially defiant black person, it was Jim Crow who
knuckled under. The Army subsequently atoned for thisand other race-based injustices and relatively soon after
began to integrate. Jack Robinson would thereupon vault
into new and different realms of combat.
Robinson’s appointed role in life was as catalytic agent
for racial change--within the military, baseball, andeventually the larger society beyond. After taking on
racial bigotry in the Army, he was to confront it again in
baseball, and later as businessman and full-fledged civilrights activist. In each encounter he conducted himself
with extraordinary dignity, courage, and resolve. As welook back to a bygone era, we are called to acknowledge
that not just the military and sports sectors – but an entire
nation – owe a respectful salute to a remarkable soldier
against intolerance for his continuing effort to prick
America into better utilizing all of its human resources.

by John Vernon

from the National Archives

Prior to taking the baseball diamond, professional women’s ballplayers salute
the American Flag during World War II.

Under Secretary of the Navy Franklin Delano Roosevelt leads major league
ballplayers in a patriotic march on the baseball diamond during World War I.

Babe Ruth signs baseball bats in support of American
troops during the 1920s.

N
T

A World War I era postcard featuring men playing the National Pastime.

JaBaseball Team on the USS Maine.

12

Three weeks after D-Day, Dutch Leonard of the Washington Senators is
signing an autograph for anxious troops in France.

ise.

Native boys playing baseball in the Pacific
Theater during World War II.

Brooklyn Dodger Pee Wee Reese teaches
youngsters the finer points of baseball.

Joe Dimaggio signs
autographs.

Washington Senator Buddy Lewis andhis buddies dream of playing ball at
Kelly Air Force Base.

The United States Coast Guard playing ball in sub-zerotemperatures in Antarctica.

Soldiers everywhere still wanted to play ball at homeor abroad!

Grover Cleveland “Pete”
Alexander.

Bill Veeck

Mickey Vernon (left) and Johnny Pesky (right)
meet the youngsters when serving in the UnitedStates Navy during wartime.

Walter Johnson (left) shakes his friend Babe
Ruth’s hand during a War Bond Game in 1944. A
smiling Rogers Hornsby in catcher’s gear looks on.

A group of black and white solders ready for combat…on the baseball diamond!

13

Ted Williams at War
Many who serve in the armed forces and end their tourof duty without ever experiencing combat wonder how
they might have measured up. Baseball superstar Ted
Williams served three years in the United States Navyand Marine Corps during World War II, but as a flightand gunnery instructor based Stateside. He was headed
to the Pacific in mid-1945, but before he saw combat, theJapanese surrendered.
Williams is the only member of baseball’s Hall of Fameto serve in both World War II and Korea. Back in baseballafter the Second World War, winning another MVP, andand morale-building P.R. visits to different bases. At
some level, he must have wondered how he might have
performed had he ever been tested in combat. He madeit clear that if the Marines wanted him back because theyneeded men to fight, he sought no favored treatment andhe wanted to fight.
He’d only flown propeller craft in World War II. Now helearned to fly the F-9F Panther jet, and earned assignment
to the elite squadron in Marine Air, VMF-311. He arrived
at K-3, the Marine Corps base in southern Korea near theseaside town of Pohang. He flew his first combat mission
on Valentine’s Day 1953.
Capt. Ted Williams flew dive-bombing missions overenemy lines during the Korean War, his Panther jet
slashing down from the skies while the enemy threw
everything they could against him – anti-aircraft andsmall arms fire alike. These were harrowing combat
missions; his Panther jet took hits on more than one
mission.
On just his third mission, on 16 February 1953, Ted’splane was hit – apparently by ground fire during a divebombing run over North Korea. His plane lost its radio
and lost its hydraulics. He couldn’t maneuver the plane
as well as he would have liked, and couldn’t put down
its landing gear. When smoke began to come out fromunder the fuselage, it was clear there was no way he’dget back to his base. Fellow VMF-311 pilot Lt. Larry
Hawkins saw Ted’s plane drifting off course, headingout to sea and toward North Korea. He caught up with
Williams and signaled him to follow, locating an Air
Force base and radioing ahead to clear the tarmac. Ted
landed wheels-up, scraping metal in a shower of sparks
and smoke and dirt. When the aircraft ground to a halt,
he popped the canopy and bolted from the plane seconds
before it was consumed in flame. Ted had to hitch a rideback to base that afternoon in a two-seat trainer aircraft.
At 0808 the next morning, he was up again on Mission
No. 4, attacking pre-designated troop concentrations.
It’s difficult to conceive of today. A star ballplayer like
Alex Rodriguez flying close air support in Afghanistan,being shot at by Al-Qaeda and Taliban fighters as he flew
in at 1,000 feet to strafe and bomb their columns in the
Panjshir Valley?
To be fair, though, none could know how today’s men
would respond were they situated in the circumstances
faced by ballplayers like Williams and Jerry Coleman
and Lloyd Merriman over 50 years ago.
helping the Red Sox win a pennant, he hadn’t expected
to be recalled to war – but that’s exactly what happened
when the Marines were forced to call up large numbersof Reserve pilots in early 1952.
He was 33 years old, with a young daughter, and admits
he wasn’t happy about being summoned back. He knewthat had Congress not slashed funding for the Marines,
the Corps would have been adequately staffed.
When Ted reported for his second tour of duty, he decided
he didn’t want to take the easy route of exhibition baseball14

In all, Capt. T. S. Williams flew 39 combat missions in
Korea. His plane was hit on other occasions, but neveras badly as on that third mission. In late April, though,the Boston Globe ran a five-column front page headline“Flak Hits Ted Williams’ Plane” with the subhead “Sox
Slugger Lands Safely After Raid.” It was Ted’s 22nd
mission, on April 27. He’d been part of a mission of 23
aircraft that hit the port city of Chinnampo, defended
by anti-aircraft fire. Ted’s Panther jet was hit in the tip
tank, fortunately depleted of fuel at the time. It was, theAssociated Press reported, his “second brush with deathin 2 ½ months.”

When smoke began to come out from under the fuselage, it was
clear there was no way he’d get back to his base. Fellow VMF311 pilot Lt. Larry Hawkins saw Ted’s plane drifting off course,
heading out to sea ...
Among the pilots on the April 27 mission was Maj.
John Glenn. Ted Williams was indeed in the Corps’ elitesquadron and one of his squadron mates was John Glenn.
The two men remained friends after their service andGlenn said of Ted, “He did a helluva good job. Ted only
batted .406 for the Red Sox. He batted a thousand for
the Marine Corps and the United States.” Generous in
his praise, Glenn has on more than one occasion said,“Ted flew about half his missions as my wingman.” The
two did fly together on several occasions, and at least
one mission was just the two Marine pilots on a predawn
raid. All told, though, a thorough review of squadron
records shows only seven missions in which the two men
flew together. Numbers aside, Williams did serve several
missions as John Glenn’s wingman.
For the record, Ted’s other commanding officers
accorded him above average performance ratings andremembered him favorably. It speaks volumes that Glenn

chose Williams as his wingman. The 22 April mission,
Ted’s fourteenth, departed K-3 at 5:25 AM. At 6:07, thetwo attacked a road bridge with two 500-pound bombs
and 75 rounds of 20MM ammunition. At 6:31, they
attacked another bridge, dropping two more 500-poundbombs and twelve ATARS. There was meager automatic
weapons anti-aircraft fire, but no damage was received.
The aircraft returned safely to base at 7:05. You don’t fly
on a mission with just one other pilot watching your wing
if you don’t trust that man implicitly.
Ted Williams went on to win three more batting titles– 1954, 1957, and 1958 – and led the league in on-basepercentage four more times. After Korea, he added
another 197 home runs to his career totals, and truly lefteveryone wondering how well he might have done had
he not lost nearly five full years of playing time. Most
projections put him within a couple of dozen home runsof Babe Ruth’s record.

15

There is no question that Ted Williams remained proudof his service, and it’s likely that his own appreciation
for what he had done grew as the years passed. He could
well have taken the easy route, but he put himself inharm’s way. He escaped serious injury, but only barely.
He almost paid the ultimate price.
In later years, one could even see the pride he felt in the
Marine Corps. At any event he attended, he always stoodvisibly straighter – even if he had to struggle to his feetor be helped to stand up – with pride in his bearing, when
the colors were presented and the National Anthem was
performed.
Asked what he felt best about, looking back on his life,
he told Jeff Idelson of the Hall of Fame, “The two things
I’m proudest of in my life, is that I became a Marine
pilot and that I became a member of Baseball’s Hall ofFame.”by Bill Nowlin
This original article is informed by the research andwriting in the book “Ted Williams At War” (RounderBooks).

TIME OUT FOR WAR: From “My Lifein the Negro Leagues” by Wilmer Fields
the barracks there became our home. During that time,
our duties included pulling guard duty and unloading
arriving ships. Our recreation was limited, but sometimes
we played baseball and football on the side of a hill
nearby. Also, we had a Red Cross facility where we’dplay ping pong and a few other games. I won the pingpong championship of South Wales, England. One timein South Wales, some rubbing alcohol was found while
unloading a ship. I can’t say everything that happened,but some of the soldiers fought all night and when reveillesounded early the next morning, they stood in formationin just their underwear. I spent the whole day trying to
explain to the captain what had happened without anyone
getting punished.
I remember one day a sergeant in our company
complained that he had a terrible headache. When hetold me how his pain originated, I challenged him rightthen and there about his ability to drink liquor. I had
never had a drink of whiskey until that day. The sergeantsaid he would buy me 17 drinks of a French whiskey
called pastige. This was one of the biggest mistakes I
have ever made. I drank the drinks and then I walked
back to the barracks. I almost died. This was the firstand last time I ever indulged in a whiskey drink.

My hitch in the U.S. Army lasted from November 1943
until May 1946, and I’ll never regret that experience.
It gave me the opportunity to communicate with alldifferent types of people and deal with all different typesof problems. I met soldiers from all over the UnitedStates, but it seemed as if most of them came from theMidwest. I took basic training and technical training atCamp Plachea, La. Those were the days of adjustment
to rules, regulations, and leadership. I made sergeant inless than 90 days thanks to a bunch of great guys. We
made a home away from home together, which helped
us overcome what can often be a very hard situation
otherwise.
After a while, we boarded a ship in New York and sailedfor England. This experience drew us even closer. We
left New York harbor on Mother’s Day 1944, and I still
remember looking out a small ship window as we plunged
into the ocean. The Statue of Liberty was the last scene
I remember as we sailed away from the shore. Most of
us in the company were not prepared for the problems
that go with riding a ship across an ocean. I was put incharge of the kitchen duties, and that meant getting used
to the ship. One good, sharp turn and we’d find all our
kitchen utensils – and sometimes soldiers, too – throwninto one corner of the room, depending on which way theship had leaned.
We docked in Liverpool, England upon arrival, but wecouldn’t see anything because of the fog. Eventually,
we were able to make out the English docks and nearby
surroundings. After departing the ship, we marchedthrough the war-battered streets of Liverpool. The
German bombs had done quite some damage. We thenboarded freight trains and traveled to a place called
Barry Docks, which were located not far from Cardiff,
Wales. We were housed for six months in Cardiff, andOur next stop was Marseilles, France. On the trip there,
I got sick and lost 30 pounds. I was taken to a hospital in
Paris, but that didn’t give me much relief, so I was takenback to Marseilles. Soon afterwards, we went across the
English Channel and landed on the shores of Le Havre,
France, on some sort of mission. Anyway, it looked likeplenty of action had taken place there. Once we landed,
we boarded some vehicles that took us to an open fieldnext to a turnip patch. Since we had been eating spamand jam every day, those turnips sure tasted good to thiscountry boy! One day, we decided to leave our area anddo some sightseeing. We had been sleeping in mud,and we felt the need to move. Anyway, we walked fora while and then spotted a small church that was quite abuilding to behold, so we went on in and prayed. Next
thing you know, we had fallen asleep; that’s how tired
we were. After we got back to camp, we boarded someboxcars and headed back to Marseilles. We were placedin an old, bombed-out building that had no windows
and had blankets for beds. The temperature was belowfreezing, so I didn’t take off my socks for 11 days. WhenI finally did, my feet were so tender that nothing could
touch them.
While in France, we had Frenchmen helping us to unload
ships. They would bring a bottle of wine and a pieceof French bread for lunch. Food was very scarce, andthey would offer the American soldiers whatever they
had to eat. They didn’t know that we were without foodfor long periods of time. Neither one of us complained
about the conditions that existed for a worthy reason: We
were trying to win a war. I can’t remember one fightbetween the French and Americans.
While we were stationed at Marseilles, the company
chose a couple of us to take some rest and relaxation in
Nice, France. They chose us on the basis of what we
had contributed to the company. I really appreciated thatvacation.
After returning to camp, we received orders to prepare
for duty in the Pacific. The war was over in Europe,and we were sent to a staging area to get ready to departfor the Pacific. The soldiers said they would follow me
anywhere. I felt real good about that. Knowing that I
had contributed to the soldiers’ well-being and that theywould possibly keep those memories forever was special.
Over 40 years later, I can still see some of the faces of mybuddies, and I reminisce about our good and bad times.
While at the staging area, I came in contact with a hospitaloutfit that was made up completely of white soldiers. I
was put in touch with the first sergeant who asked me if
I knew of any company that played baseball in the area.
It turned out this company had a baseball team that had
been together for several years. I told him that maybe we
could play his company, so we scheduled a game. We
played on a former battleground in France, and we beatthem 5-0. The first sergeant asked me to join his company
and go to Japan with them. Apparently, he knew the right

African-American infantrymen including Hall of Famer Wilbur “Bullet” Rogan (seated far left over bats)16

people to make this come about. But before anything
happened an order came down for my company to sailfor the States: The Japanese had surrendered!
Sailing home from France was another experience thatwill stay with me forever. We were four or five days in
the Atlantic when a storm hit us. It was so severe that theship couldn’t move, so we had to change course and takea different route home. Instead of landing in New York,
we had to land in Boston. When we disembarked there,
my mind went over the many trials and tribulations that
we had confronted and come through. It was good to beback in America!

“Spoon” Carter of the Washington Homestead Grays
adorns the patriotic cover of the Annual Negro League
Yearbook in 1945.

During my Army career, I found out that the lessons
my parents taught me would play an important part indealing with unpleasant situations that existed from time
to time. One lesson in particular that my parents taught
me was that it was imperative to appreciate other people.
The ability to converse with a high official or a private in
the military was my ultimate goal. This is why a captaintried to get me to re-enlist so that I would become a firstsergeant of a company. The Army taught me never to ask
someone to do something that you wouldn’t do yourself.

Treat every person as a human being, and don’t lie tomake yourself superior or important.
Upon my arrival in America, I received a telegram saying
my father had had major operation. In two days, I had
secured a 30-day furlough. Since it was harvest time, it
was a good time for me to go home. My dad survived theulcer operation, and I harvested his corn and hay crop.
He was so pleased, and I felt so good inside to be able tohelp him – a truly deserving man. It allowed me to repay
a small portion of the good life he had given me.
After my furlough was up, the Army sent me to Camp
Plachea again. It wasn’t far from New Orleans, and mystay there was a memorable one. This is where I firstmet my wife, Audrey. I went to see her every night.
She came from a large family where love and discipline
were a way of life. Audrey and I were married before I
left New Orleans to be discharged at Fort Meade, Md. I
talked with Audrey every day and night.

by Wilmer Fields

The Ballplayers of Bedford

In the 1930s, Bedford was a small, rural town at theheart of rolling hills and lush valleys near Virginia’s Blue
Ridge Mountains. For the young men of this tight-knit
community, the Depression years offered little in the wayof prospects, and baseball helped wile away the summer
hours and conjure up images of playing on major league
teams. Baseball was truly the national pastime backthen and for two young men – Frank Draper and Elmer
Wright – it would weave an integral thread through their
tragically short lives.

in trucks to containment camps on the southeast coast.
The countdown to D-Day had begun and it was a boring
and anxious couple of weeks for the men of Company
A. “Whenever we had time, I put on a glove and [Elmer
Wright] pitched to me,” recalled former college catcher,
Hal Baumgarten. “Wright was fast. I had to put a double
sponge in the glove.”

On the morning of June 6, 1944, Tech. Sgt. Frank
Draper, Staff Sgt. Elmer Wright and Private RobertMarsico were on landing crafts heading for Omaha
Elmer Wright, Robert Marsico, Pride Wingfield and Frank Draper in 1943
Frank Draper was tall, lean and fast. He was a star athlete
Beach at Normandy. Company A of the 116th Infantry
at Bedford High School and after graduation, worked
Regiment was to lead the D-Day assault. As the landing
at Hampton Looms – the town’s largest employer –crafts approached the beach the enemy opened fire with
Infantry Division, and it was while returning from military
becoming the centerfielder and leadoff hitter with the exercises in North Carolina that news of the Japanese artillery, mortar, machine-gun and small arms fire. Draper’s
company’s baseball team.
attack on Pearl Harbor reached the boys of Company A. craft shook with the horrifying impact of an anti-personnel
For Draper, Wright and Marsico it meant there was no way shell that ripped through the side of the vessel and tore off
Meanwhile, Elmer Wright – the son of Bedford’s deputy they would be home in a year. They were now soldiers in his upper arm. Rapidly losing blood, the young soldier
sheriff – was also establishing himself as a standout athlete. Uncle Sam’s army for the duration.
slumped to the floor and died in a pool of blood, seawater
A hard-throwing, right-handed pitcher, Wright hurledand vomit.
for a number of local semi-pro teams before signing a In September 1942, the 29th Infantry Division boarded theprofessional contract with the St. Louis Browns in 1937.
Queen Mary for the Atlantic crossing to Britain. On Oct. Wright and Marsico’s landing craft made it to the beach.
2, 1942 they docked in Scotland from where the division As the ramps dropped down the men of Company A met
Wright was assigned to Terre Haute of the Three-I League moved by train to southwest England. It was the beginning with a hail of deadly accurate enemy fire. Many were killed
his rookie year where he won 10 and lost 13. He began theof an intensive training program that would last until May outright; others lay critically wounded, screaming for help.
1938 season with San Antonio in the Texas League, andThose that could jumped in to the six-foot of water and1944.
spent time at Palestine and Johnstown. He was back with
desperately tried to make their way to the beach.
San Antonio for 1939 and 1940, hoping to attend spring Nevertheless, Draper, Wright and Marsico still found a
training with the St Louis Browns in 1941.
little time for baseball. In September 1943, they played Hal Baumgarten, the young receiver who had played catchfor the 116th Infantry Regiment Yankees in a four-day with Elmer Wright just days before, made it to the beach
About 30 miles away in Roanoke, Va., a young catcher
tournament in London affectionately known as “The Little but an exploding artillery shell shattered his jaw. As he
named Robert Marsico was making a name for himself on World Series”. The 116th were a dark horse team at the slumped to the ground, he looked to one side and there was
the Gilmer High School baseball team. After graduating, he outset – unknown to most of the other teams who were the dead body of Staff Sgt. Wright.
landed a job with the Piedmont Label Company in Bedford. already playing in well-established military leagues around
It wasn’t long before Marsico was the starting catcher on Britain. The Bedford boys were the backbone of the team. Marsico suffered injuries to his right arm and leg in thethe Piedmont Label baseball team.
Draper’s hitting, Wright’s pitching and Marsico’s defensive chaos and carnage. He somehow survived the killing zone,
work behind the plate guided the Yankees to an unexpected but his injuries ensured he would never play baseballLike many local youngsters, Draper, Wright and Marsico place in the final against the Eighth Air Force Fighter again.
had joined Company A of the National Guard. But as the Command Thunderbolts that saw the 116th win 6-3 for the
war in Europe took hold and the United States began to ETO championship title.
The ballplayers of Bedford had suffered badly but the town
expand its fighting forces, it was announced in Octobersustained an even greater loss. Nineteen of the 34 Bedford
1940, that the company would be mobilized into the That was their last chance to play any form of competitive boys of Company A died in the first bloody minutes atFederal Army for a period of one year.
baseball. For the remainder of 1943 and the first five months Omaha Beach. Two more died later in the day. Bedfordof 1944, the order of the day was intensive military training suffered higher losses per-capita than any other American
Four months later, three young ballplayers were among in preparation for the invasion of mainland Europe.
community in World War II.
those who reported for duty at the Bedford Armory. Fromby Gary Bedingfield.
there they were sent to Fort Meade, Md., home of the 29th On May 18, 1944, the 29th Infantry Division was taken

17

HANK GOWDY
Baseball Player and War Hero

What an amazing life Hank Gowdy had! How would you
like to have played major league baseball during the toughand tumble early years of the 20th century, been the star andMost Valuable Player of the 1914 World Series as a memberof the championship “miracle” Boston Braves team and beena bona fide war hero who served his country in two world
wars? Let me introduce you to Henry Morgan Gowdy, a man
who epitomized, though his play on the baseball field and his
exploits in the Armed Forces, the inexorable link between our
National Pastime and service in the military.
Henry “Hank” Gowdy was born on Aug. 24, 1889 in
Columbus, Ohio. His father was Horace C. Gowdy, an
independent man of modest means and his mother, Carrie
Burhart. From an early age, Hank was taught early on towork hard and do his chores but like so many of his friends, hewould gravitate towards the playing fields once those chores
were done. He played football, basketball and baseball at
Hubbard Elementary and North High School in Columbus.
Though he enjoyed all team sports he loved baseball andconvinced an official from the Columbus Senators semipro
team to give him a tryout. His talents on the ballfield began toblossom and he quickly ended up with Lancaster in the Ohio
State League and within a few months gained more seasoning
with Dallas in the Texas League. By this time, Gowdy was a
strapping 6-foot-2, 180-pounder who was considered a teamleader.
Hank’s major league career started in 1910, right during theheight of the “deadball era” when he briefly played with John
McGraw’s New York Giants. He only batted .214 that season
and after a few games during the 1911 season, he was tradedto the Boston Braves. In 1912 and 1913, he still had not quite
found his stride, playing several games for the Braves but hereturned to the minor leagues to hone his craft as a catcher
for the Buffalo Bisons. It was a “make it or break it” time
period for the youngster. Would he ever get back into the big
leagues? But it was at Buffalo when he hooked up with a man
who would become a major influence in his life.
During the latter part of the 1912 season the young catcher
began to make his mark under the watchful eye of veteran
manager George Stallings. Stallings, the son of a Confederate
general, was a larger than life character known for his crafty,
hard-nosed baseball ways. A superstitious and tough man
who was never intimidated on or off the baseball diamond,
Stallings had been managing in the baseball vineyards foryears and had developed a reputation for being a fine judgeof baseball talent. He was especially looking for men who
not only had the necessary skills to play the game but who
could lead the team on the field as well. Stallings spotted what
he wanted in the young Ohioan and became one of Hank
Gowdy’s most ardent supporters. The two seemed the perfectmatch. Both were hard-nosed, no-nonsense, natural leaders ofmen. That trait would serve prove to serve both men well.
Even though Stallings left the Bison in 1913, his “field
general” Hank Gowdy ended up batting well over .300 for theyear and became the mainstay of the team. By the year’s end
Gowdy had developed leadership capabilities while playing
perhaps the most vital position on the team . . . that of catcher.
Their separation would be brief for Gowdy and Stallings
would quickly reunite. By August of that year, Stallings
would take over the helm of the major league Boston Braves,
one of the majors’ oldest teams, and quickly recruit young
Mr. Gowdy to help him anchor his new squad.
In the late 19th century, the Boston Braves (originally called
the Beaneaters) were at the top of majors and won several
championships, but by the time Stallings and Gowdy joined
the club, the Braves were known as being the perennial
losers of the National League. They were the Senior Circuit’s
doormats! By 1914 they had been absolutely dominatedfor several years by John McGraw’s New York Giants. In
fact, the Giants were coming off a season in 1913 in which
they won 101 games while capturing the National League

18

pennant. Stallings’ Braves ended up a distant fourth place.
The Boston boys won 69 games but lost 82. Sure, that wasan improvement of their last-place finish a year before inwhich they barely squeaked out 52 victories, but most people
thought that the 1914 season would simply bring more of thesame. That is, more misery for the woeful Boston Braves andmore joy to the great New York Giants with their star pitcher
Christy “The Christian Gentleman” Mathewson, at the top of
his game.
But fate had other plans for Hank Gowdy, his manager George
Stallings and their team, for 1914 would become a spectacularseason that is still considered among the most thrilling single
baseball season of them all. Not only did the Braves embark
on the greatest team comeback in Major League Baseballhistory, coming back from being over 20 games behind thefirst place Giants on Independence Day 1914, but the teamovertook its old nemesis with ease in September and went
on to sweep the heavily favored American League Champion
Philadelphia Athletics in the World Series, four games tonone. Hank Gowdy was in his prime.
Much to Stallings’ joy and McGraw’s consternation, the“field commander” Gowdy got several clutch hits against
Mathewson during the pennant drive in late August and early
September. But, alas, Hank’s star shown most brightly in thecool air and gusty winds when summer turned to fall, whenbaseball is played at its toughest and best, during the Octoberclassic, baseball’s biggest stage, in the World Series. Having
dispatched McGraw’s men, this time the duo would face thecunning and patrician Connie Mack, the A’s grand man who
had carefully assembled what was thought to be the best teamby far in baseball.
But Stallings, Gowdy and their men had other plans. Hank
Gowdy would prove to be the original “Mr. October,” long
before Reggie Jackson claimed that moniker. Gowdy would
hit six times safely and bat .545 for the World Series withthree doubles, a homer and a triple. He was the peerless
clutch hitter who anchored a team loaded with characters like
Rabbit Maranville and grizzled vets like Johnny Evers. He
also made key hits during all of the games and eventually
won the final game with his bat by going three for four. His
bat was, as they say, “on fire!” Later, Stallings himself would
state flatly that Gowdy was the most valuable player during
the “miracle” run.

Hank, a very patriotic man who pined to serve his country decided
to lay down his bat for something more important. Soon he tradedhis baseball uniform for military garb and became the very firstmajor leaguer to enlist in the Armed Forces during World War I.
For two and a half years, Gowdy continued to catch for the
Braves but the clouds of war soon interrupted the thrills of
baseball. Hank, a very patriotic man who pined to serve hiscountry, decided to lay down his bat for something more
important. Soon he traded his baseball uniform for military
garb and became the first major leaguer to enlist in the
Armed Forces during World War I. On June 1, 1917, Gowdy
signed up to serve in the Ohio National Guard and eventuallyreported for duty on July 15, 1917. He was soon heading forthe front lines in Europe. He would later say that he saw things“no man should see.” Baseball and the cheering crowds from
Boston seemed a long ways away. The fighting was tough andbrutal against the Germans, a determined enemy.
Hank Gowdy’s war record was quite impressive. He servedwith distinction in the 166th Infantry Regiment and becamea part of the famed “Rainbow Division,” the Fighting 42nd.
Gowdy carried the colors during the war for this spectacular
fighting unit. They became known as the “Rainbow
Division” when dubbed as such by General Pershing. They,
it seemed, had the uncanny “luck” of being surrounded byactual rainbows on their way to and during the heavy combatthat they were a part of in France during the war. The men
certainly needed all the luck they could muster because
they were one of the first American Divisions to reach theWestern Front. They fought side by side with the French
and the fighting was brutal. It was “trench warfare” in themost violent sense of the word as the men engaged in “manto man” combat against the Germans, employing rifles andguns, and then when they ran out of bullets, the men fought
each other with bayonets and knives.
Casualties were high but unlike so many of his counterpartsin the Rainbow Division, Hank Gowdy returned to theUnited States in one piece! By this time, the returning war
vet Gowdy was a bona fide war hero, as popular in Boston
then the mayor himself. Hank gladly laid down his rifle andonce again picked up his glove and returned to the game he19

loved. He continued to play with the Boston Braves from1919 through mid 1923. He was eventually traded to his
old rivals, the New York Giants, still led by John McGraw.
Certainly McGraw remembered Gowdy’s clutch hitting aspart of the “miracle” team. This time, though, they would beon the same team.
Gowdy played nearly 149 games for the Giants during a
two and a half year stretch. He also played in the 1923 and1924 World Series for the Giants. His team captured the title
in 1923, lost it in seven games to the Washington Senatorsin 1924 and Gowdy stuck with the game as a player for a
few more years. After 17 years in the majors as a player,
Hank Gowdy, however, was not one to rest on his laurels.
Although he never batted the ball for his team after 1930, hewould be a major league coach for three different teams - theBraves, Giants and Cincinnati Reds. Also, as unbelievable
as it sounds, when World War II broke out, Gowdy served
his country for a second time and at the “ripe old age” of 53
he was commissioned a major in the United States Army. He
again served with distinction and became, for an extended
period of time, the Chief Athletic Officer at Fort Benning,Ga.
To this day, the baseball diamond at Fort Benning, where
soldiers enjoy playing the National Pastime, is called “Hank
Gowdy Field.” Gowdy passed away at the age of 76 on
August 1, 1966, while living in Columbus, Ohio. He left
no children but to this day, in and around Columbus, there
are relatives and old-timers who remember him well. A fine,moral and modest man who conducted himself with class on
and off the ball field, now we know that without any fanfare
whatsoever, he was also a tough military man, who when heleft playing baseball at the highest level to serve his country,
he saw the terror of war, up close and personal. For that, hedeserves our eternal gratitude.

by Frank Ceresi

Author Todd Anton and his best friend, father andWorld War II veteran at Dodger Stadium in 1989.

Major leaguer Jerry Coleman in Korea.

No Greater LoveYou never forget your first game. You remember the firsttime you saw that field. You remember the first time you
saw the grass, heard the organ playing and the vendors
shouting. It was amazing, it was thrilling and there hewas, your father holding your hand, reassuring you andtaking you places you’ve never been before. For me,that moment was at Dodger Stadium and it was the early
1970s. Although we were devout Dodger fans, Dad hadtaken me there to see a great player in his opinion that
only comes along once in a while – Roberto Clementeof the Pittsburgh Pirates. Funny though, I don’t reallyremember all that much about the game’s details, butwhat I do remember was this was my first national
anthem with my dad.
I remember dad wept and I didn’t know why.
My father served in combat in two wars: World War II
as a member of the 70th Infantry Division (Trailblazers)
in the ETO and in Korea/Japan from 1951-1954 as partof the 715 Transportation Truck Company based on the
38th parallel. Although he would tell my brothers andsisters some of the things he did, you could always tell he
was holding something back. Something that was deep,
painful and emotional. It always seem to come out during
the national anthem.
All he would tell me was that “it takes a lot more thanrope to keep that flag up there son.”As I got older, became an American history teacher andbegan interviewing veterans for Dr. Stephen E. Ambrose
and working with him and his National World War II
Museum to preserve the memories of the World War
II generation, I was aware of the horrific, emotional
experiences that dad must have gone through. So I began
to ask, began to search on my own for that part of him
that he held back. I still couldn’t penetrate it, though,until one brief moment … we went and saw “Saving
Private Ryan.” My dad had seen it with my mom a few
days before and knew what to expect. However, mybother Brent and I didn’t.
As we sat down and the movie began, dad draped hisarms around each of our shoulders and he held us tight.
It was a powerful moment and not a word was spoken
the entire time. Shortly before the movie ended dad got
up and left as he knew the moment was arriving when at
the cemetery in Normandy an aged Private Ryan asks hiswife to tell him his life had meaning and that “He was agood man.” Dad could only bring himself to watch thatscene only once and this moment struck the chord to me at
why he wouldn’t tell us anything. He didn’t feel worthy.
As we got in the car to drive home after the movie dad
finally spoke up. Looking at me with tears in his agedeyes “You want to know how it was? You do? Well, that(meaning the movie) that is how the F- it was.”Astounded, I felt I had intruded.
Those he served with told me what they had witnessed
and I saw my dad for what he really was: an 18-yearold kid – scared, away from home and jumping in to
forward observation posts in France to direct artillery
fire on enemy positions at the risk of his life many times,

seeing the deadly results of his fire missions on the towns
as they marched or drove through. Not all the victims
were Germans. Some were just kids. I learned about
rescue missions in North Korean territory to evacuate
Americans from rapidly approaching Chinese and North
Korean forces while driving winding Korean roads
without lights. When I asked him about it armed withnames, information and evidence that I knew about what
he did, he finally relented and it was amazing how it allcame out and returned eventually back to baseball. As
he would often tell me, it was baseball and playing itthat kept them alive, and young. “Simply, Todd, it kept
us human.” He went on “Todd, that is why I cry at theballgame. When that anthem is played I don’t see thepark, I see the faces of my friends who didn’t come homeand I see the man I wished I could have been.”
Then my journey began.
Dad mentioned to me that I should write a book about
the ballplayers who served and played the game. I wassure it had been done, and to some extent it has, as I told
him. He was persistent, though, “Todd, you’ve got to letthem tell it in their way as only they can. They have been
blessed to play the greatest game on the face of the earth
and also fought to save the greatest nation of the face ofthe earth. Don’t you think that is a story worth telling?
You will be surprised at what you will learn.”“OK, dad, I’ll think about it.”“No. You will do it. Do you hear me?”
I was surprised at his urgency.
“Sure Dad. Sure, I’ll do it.”Two days later he was gone.
You know when your dad dies everything changes –everything. I looked at the clock to note the time and thenremembered the date – it was June 6th. It was D-Day!
Are you kidding me?
Dad had asked me at one time that when that day
comes “Please take my ashes to Dodger Stadium and to
Normandy.” Although Dad had not fought at Normandy
I asked him why and his face lit up as he answered.
“Todd, I left Europe from Omaha Beach to go home. I
left it all behind there to go home and become a husband
and your father. My life began at Normandy.”
As a result of our friend Mickey Hatcher, hitting coach of
the Angels and a former Dodgers star, I was able to placea small portion of dad’s ashes in center field at beautiful
Dodger Stadium. The Angels went on to win that night.
Amazingly, it was Flag Night and the pregame washosted by Boeing Company and WWII planes filled thesky. It seemed so planned, so scripted … so American. I
haven’t been able to stop crying at the national anthem
since …
Indeed, Dad was right. This journey took me places. I
interviewed Johnny Pesky at Fenway Park, interviewed
Vin Scully in his press box at Dodger Stadium and finallymade my own journey to France, letting some of his
ashes go on Omaha Beach surrounded by a brisk, cold
surf and empty beach. It was a very emotional experienceand it still is. I even taught baseball to French kids as my20

Dad did in 1945 to pass the time.
So armed with a promise, I sought to write about thesegreat and noble men, meeting such legendary players
as Bob Feller, Jerry Coleman, Bert Shepard, Max West,
Johnny Pesky, Dom DiMaggio, Don Newcombe, Tommy
Lasorda, Dutch Schultz and broadcasters alike such as
Ken Coleman, Ernie Harwell and the great Vin Scully –all veterans who said “yes” to me. With each interview it
seemed that as if some inner determination kept me going,
lessons in character from these men were beginning to
make sense. I really believed I was living out my own
Field of Dreams. I kept writing and interviewing. I kept
going the distance. I wasn’t going to give up. The thenit all came together and made sense in one player: NewYork Yankee/Lt. Col. Jerry Coleman, USMC.
Much has been written, and rightfully so, about thelegend himself Ted Williams. Some even call him the real
John Wayne. Well, if that is the case then Jerry Colemanis the real Gary Cooper: silent, strong, determined andshy. Jerry Coleman flew combat missions in two wars
(W.W.II and Korea). He walked away from baseball
twice. He told me “When your country calls, you answer.
It is as simple as that.”“No regrets?” I asked.
“Not a whisper,” he said. “Look, Todd, the Marines
destroyed my baseball career, but the greatest thing in
my life was my time in the Marines no question about
it. I just went from one championship team (Yankees) toanother (USMC) is how I look at it.”Amazing.
I know I am not alone in this feeling. Jerry’s broadcasting
partner with the Padres, Ted Leitner, often asks him if theplayers and others “know just who it is they are talking
to?” I know what Ted means. He is really saying, “HeyJerry, does anyone know when they are talking to you,they are talking to a REAL American hero?”“Why should they?” Jerry asks.
And all of us just stare back at Jerry in amazement.
Are you serious, Jerry?
He just shrugs his shoulders.
I wanted to give Jerry something, too. I had beenworking on this book for what seems an eternity. I
wanted to get Jerry something that perhaps might open
his eyes to see his uniqueness to us all. When I talked
to Jerry back in 2003 for my book, he mentioned that
his two Distinguished Flying Crosses and 13 Air Medals
and three navy Citations are really just “merit badges.”Awards do not mean anything to most combat veterans.
How can a piece of metal sum it all up? What does aribbon actually mean after watching friends die? This
doesn’t mean it is not appreciated. Jerry told me, “Theawards are really for the person giving it rather than the
one receiving it. The honoree has gotten to live a long
life, in most cases raise a family. That is reward enoughfor me.”by Todd Anton
Author of “No Greater Love: Life Lessons from
the Men Who Saved Baseball” (Rounder Books)

Moe Berg
A native of Northern Virginia, I grew up following theadventures of the fabled Washington Senators. Nothing was
sweeter on a sultry Potomac afternoon than climbing into thenosebleeds at RFK Stadium for a doubleheader between theOriginal Nats and the Bad Boys of Bean Town or those Yankee
invaders from the House that Ruth Built.

Diehard Senators fans learned to forgive the club’s oftentimes
dismal place in the standings. It was enough to know that Frank
Howard, the other Washington Monument, and the rest of gang
would take the field, affording us hope, at least for few innings,
of an elusive hometown victory.
No matter the score, we faithfully bought those souvenirs of awonderful ballpark getaway, spent with Our Team. I still havethe official Senators’ warm-up jacket I wore as an outward
manifestation of my allegiance and – depending on game day
fortunes – at my own peril. A fading Senators pennant hangs
in my basement. Only recently have I ceased scanning theWashington Post for the team’s box scores. The Senators, theiringlorious exit from the nation’s capital a decided low-light of
the Cold War, are no more.
For all my forays to RFK, with omnipresent thoughts of finallysnagging that errant foul ball, I never saw my favorite Senatorin action. Morris “Moe” Berg played long before my Dad
lobbed pop flies to my siblings and me on our grandparents’
Chantilly dairy farm, sending us scrambling across land thateventually became part of Dulles International Airport.
As it was, I didn’t learn of Moe until several years later, during
the long drought that came to characterize life in the national
capital without the national pastime. In the summer, concerts
and soccer came to RFK. Mercifully, we had the Redskins
and those stupendous Super Bowl victories from autumn into
winter, when news of the Bullets – now the Wizards – and theCaps headlined the sports section. But Washington didn’t havea baseball team.
So I started reading about past Washington baseball clubs.
Poring over library books and periodicals, I discovered thatthree Senators teams had actually won the American League
pennant and – wait for it – went to the World Series.
Even now, sports historians marvel at the mythical 1924
Senators team that snatched the prize from those mighty New
York Giants in one of the grandest Series ever. Cheering theunderdog Original Nats from the presidential box was First
Fan “Silent Cal” Coolidge. The Twenties really did roarin the nation’s capital: Washington finally had a certified
championship baseball team.
But, alas, there was to be no D.C. dynasty. Despite repeatingas AL champs in 1925, succeeding clubs usually tanked morethan they triumphed, perpetuating the painful if perenniallyprophetic tag: “Washington: First in war, first in peace, and lastin the American League.” Venerated locals George Washingtonand “Light Horse Harry” Lee would not have been amused.
In 1933, Franklin Roosevelt reminded a greatly depressednation in his first inaugural address that we had “nothing tofear but fear itself.” That fall, no doubt reacting to the new First
Fan’s inspiring oratory, the Senators landed their third World
Series appearance. The magic was short-lived: in what proved
to be the club’s final trip to the Big Show, the Original Nats lostto the revenging Giants, four games to one. Sad to say, I had
missed The Happening by over 40 years.
Newspapers across the country carried stories about the ’33

Senators, in part because of a utility catcher who played for theWorld Series contenders. After nearly a decade in the majors,
Moe Berg’s notoriety routinely reached beyond the sports
pages and into the society columns.
For much of his stay in Washington, Moe was a fixture at dinners
and receptions hosted by the numerous embassies located in thenation’s capital. Alongside the baseball equipment in his locker,
he kept an assortment of formal evening attire. Whatever thefeatured diplomatic fête, Moe would be impeccably appointed,
having traded his gamey Number 10 jersey for a tailored silk
jacket or white tie and tails.
Happy was the host who heard Moe Berg of Princeton,
Columbia Law and the league-leading Washington Senators
had arrived. A polished and engaging raconteur who spoke
several languages, Moe charmed partygoers and journalists
alike with his intellect, grace, and wit.
Beyond baseball, the party banter took on a decidedly scholarlyand eclectic flare. Astronomy, math, linguistics, philosophy,
religion, world history, and current events became fodder for
captivating conversation as Moe happily traded words andwisdom with some of the most learned and influential men andwomen of the time. And the wine was good, too.
Ten years and a Day of Infamy later, Moe’s mastery of the
Washington social scene would aid his overseas assignments
during World War II with the Office of Strategic Services,
America’s first formal intelligence organization. As every
James Bond devotee knows, in the shadow wars of espionage,
the diplomatic world often masquerades for the operational.
So it was that Moe Berg, onetime backup catcher for the AL
champion Washington Senators and embassy row regular, went
on to become a trusted and productive Allied spy. Focusing on
high-value scientific and atomic targets, the retired ballplayer
earned praise for one particularly dicey mission from First Fan
FDR.
The more I read about Moe, the more I wanted to read about
Moe. I also began trying to locate Moe Berg artifacts. Baseball’s
first big-league Jewish player had become an obsession withthis blue-eyed Irish girl.
Sometime later, I switched career paths at my place of employ,
the CIA, leaving the analytical ranks to become Founding
Curator of the CIA Museum. Always looking for compellingand inspirational stories to depict in permanent and thematic
displays, I thought Moe would be a good fit.*
Why, my friends inquired, did I plan to include a baseballplayer in a museum dedicated to espionage history? The very
fact intelligence professionals had to ask the question is thereason why a display featuring Moe Berg was created.
Moe’s exhibit consisted of a Washington Senators baseball card(of course), and, as a bow to his fifth and final team, a Boston
Red Sox card. Both were on loan from my private collection.
Escorting visitors through the display, regaling them with myfavorite Moe stories, it became increasingly evident that most
seasoned Agency employees knew little of his baseball careerand nothing of his exemplary wartime contributions. Fresh,young hires, with no grounding in classic baseball and lacking
prior military or government service, were especially clueless.
Yet there were signs from the very beginning that Moe’s
display was generating a sizable following: we spent more

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time removing the accumulated finger, hand, and nose prints
deposited on his exhibit case by visitors angling for a closer
look than we did for any other.
News of the display eventually leached out to the larger world.
Before long, representatives from every conceivable media
outlet were calling, seeking permission to film or photographthe cards. There was even an inquiry from a fledging playwright
who thought Moe’s life and times worthy of a Broadway
production. I’m still waiting for “Moe – The Musical.” As
testimony to the enigmatic ballplayer’s continuing appeal, adocumentary film highlighting his varied achievements is due
for release within the next few months.
The cards remained on loan in the Museum throughout mytenure as curator. Later I was able to purchase the bat Moe usedin 1939, his final year as an active player. Framed by the two
cards, the Louisville Slugger added another dimension to the
popular display.
When I left the Agency in 1997, Moe’s cards and bat followed
me home. Over time, they were joined by other Moe artifacts,
acquired chiefly at public auctions: a photograph of the AL
champion Senators which several players, including Moe, hadautographed; a yearbook from his student days at Princeton;
the signed pass permitting him admission to the Nuremburg
trials; and the flagship collectable – the handsome steamer
trunk he shared on road trips with future Hall of Famer andEastern Shore of Maryland native Jimmie Foxx, resplendent
in Red Sox red.
People ask what I plan to do with my “Moementous”
memorabilia, now safely housed in a variety of secured,underground vaults throughout the Washington area. Photosof most have been incorporated into presentations I makearound the country, focusing on espionage history and someof its more intriguing personalities, with Moe leading the field,
pun intended. I hope some day to exhibit the hardier items,
especially the steamer trunk, in a suitable venue, allowing
the public a glimpse into the career of a major league spy andbone fide war hero who also played for the last championship
Washington Senators baseball team.

by Linda McCarthy*Please note: Because the CIA Museum is housed within the
secured Agency compound, it is NOT open to the public.
A recognized expert on Moe Berg, Linda McCarthy features
the ballplayer turned spy in her VIP™ Leadership PowerPoint
presentation. She can be reached via her company Web pageat: www.historyisahoot.com.

Q &With
A George H. W. Bush
What are your earliest recollections of playing
baseball when you were growing up?
I started playing ball by playing catch with
my older brother Pres and my Dad earlyon. As soon as I could catch I’d be out
there with a mitt.
Who were some of your early favorite baseballplayers and teams?
My favorites were Red Sox, Giants andYankees in the ’30s
You are well aware of President Roosevelt’s“green light letter” in which he urged
Commissioner Landis that Major League
Baseball should continue even after thebombing of Pearl Harbor. As a young man
during your service in the military in WorldWar II, did you still follow the game backhome?
Was baseball ever played by the troops during
the war?
I tried to “follow the game back home”
but without faxes and e-mails, and given
sporadic mail deliveries, it was real hardto keep totally up to speed. Baseball may
have been played, but not by me or mysquadron mates.
After the war, when you entered Yale
University, you captained your varsity
baseball team and played first base. What are
your recollections of playing during the first
two College World Series games in 1947 and1948?
Tell us about your teammates and did yourfriendships continue after you left Yale?
During that time, you met Babe Ruth when
he was fighting cancer and presented his
memoirs to Yale University. What do you
remember about meeting the Babe and what
did he say to you?
In those days there were not a lot of playoffs.
We won the East in ’47 and ’48, but theEast included Illinois, Southern teams andEastern. It was different then. The first
World Series (and the Second) was playedin Kalamazoo, Mich. My teammatesremain friends to this day though I see lessof them than I’d like. These were glory
days for Yale baseball.

being around others who do, too.

Meeting the Babe on Yale Field was a thrillthat stays with me ’til this day. He wascancer-riddled. His voice was more of acroak than a normal voice, but he radiatedgreatness and I was privileged to have beenasked to go out to home plate with him toreceive his papers that he donated to Yale.

The one player I would love to have met is
Lou Gehrig, as he was a true hero to me.
I dreamed of having his glove – no way!!
He epitomized the best in the game. His
courage is of course legendary, but his
statistics back up the great reputation Lou
Gehrig has.

During your political career, you were closefriends with many Major League Baseballplayers including Ted Williams, called bymany as being “the greatest hitter who everlived.” Ted fought in World War II and in
Korea. Tell us about your friendship with
Ted Williams.

Tell us about “Born to Play Ball,” the baseballexhibit that just opened at your Presidential
Library.

How about Bob Feller who also served in the
military? Tell us about your friendship withBob Feller.

The exhibit at my Library is wonderful.
Cooperstown’s Hall of Fame, (thanks Dale
Petoskey) really helped us with some great
memorabilia. The exhibit has been a huge
success.

My closest friend amongst the greats was
Ted Williams. That friendship developed
after I got into national politics. I saw quite
a bit of Ted and talked to him often in his
later years. I admired him as the greatest
hitter ever. My one regret is that I never
got to fly-fish with him. We had one trip
planned but at the last minute he had tocancel.
I knew Bob Feller but not at all well.
Other friends- and I do mean friends,
are Tommy Lassorda, Joe Morgan, theAspermonte brothers, both Bob and Ken.
Roger Clemens, Craig Biggio, and thegreat Nolan Ryan – on and on it goes.
When you were President, it always seemedthat you had a smile on your face whether
throwing out the traditional first pitch, meeting
players, or just talking about baseball. Why
do you love the National Pastime so much?
Smile? Because I love the game and I love22

If there is one player (current or former) thatyou would have liked to have met and talked
baseball with, whom would that player be andwhy?

The exhibit features some terrific artifacts
representing the greats of the game. What aresome of your favorites?

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