187th Regimental Combat Team - Korea 1950's
Today William Carl Snodgrass, 77 years old, a Staff Sergeant in the US Army during the Korean War, a man who was held as a POW for 18 months during that war, was laid to rest in the Veterans National Memorial Cemetery in North East Phoenix.
Born June 12 1932 he passed away June 1, 2010; it is the near two week delay in his burial that is the subject of this story.
Bill Snodgrass is one of those “invisible people” who inhabit our world—people who we see every day yet ignore—for simply put, we don’t want to see them. Because you see: if we do see them, then we are presented with a moral dilemma; do we reach out to, or do we ignore them?
Bill came from hardy stock; the Snodgrass family was wide spread on the west side of the valley in those early decades of the 20th Century. His life began on a positive note, he had a great childhood, and entered adulthood with an abundance of enthusiasm and ambition.
In those days of the late 1940’s and early 1950’s healthy young men had a military obligation to the nation. No shirker, Bill decided early on to satisfy that obligation—he joined the Army.
Like many men his age who had come of age during WWII, he grew up on war stories and at an early age became impressed with the US Army’s Airborne Rangers—so he volunteered for the paratroopers. He underwent Airborne training at Fort Benning Georgia, as well as lot of other training and eventually found himself assigned to the 187th Airborne Regimental Combat Team.
Then, he and a lot of other men of similar qualifications and circumstances were ordered to Korea.
Following his arrival in Korea, Bill was assigned to a small security detachment whose task it was to protect a long range artillery Forward Observation team. The small unit was sent to the Chosen Reservoir in the far North Eastern portion of North Korea. While on patrol there he and his entire patrol of 8 men were surrounded and taken prisoner.
Bill was held prisoner for approximately 18 months and it changed his life. Subsisting soley on turnips and dammed few of them, the prisoners slowly starved to death. Only the determined, the wily and tenacious survived. But they did so at a terrible cost.
Repatriated at the close of hostilities Bill was honorably separated from the Army and attempted to rejoin life in the US.
He came home found a job, took a chance on romance, married, settled down and began a family. But something was wrong in side—something that wouldn’t let him rest. He took to drink, lost his job, then another and eventually after a few years he lost his family.
He took to serious drink and the years passed in a Stuporous blur.
About fifteen years ago Bill came to the attention of a retired Phoenix Police Sergeant—someone we all know; Perry Mentzer. Bill lived next door to one of Perry’s employees and little-by-little over time Perry became acquainted with him.
According to Perry there were two outstanding qualities of Bill’s that stood out from the first:
1. No matter how bad Bill found life he never complained.
2. Bill was completely honest in all of his dealings.
Early on Perry noted the tattoos on Bills forearms—tattoos of a military nature. Questioned about them over a period of time Bill revealed an incredible story, of deprivation and survival as a POW. Over the years Perry tested Bill veracity and on each and every occasion Bill held forth as being forthright and uncomplaining. It was though Bill carried some grievous burden that caused him to meet each and every one of life’s challenges without the slightest complaint or elaboration.
In his later years Bill had given up drink and lived a modest and austere life on a minuscule Social Security Check.
In his later years Bill began to suffer from first one and then another physical malady finding himself hospitalized on many occasions for first this and then that. He never complained.
Then he was diagnosed with COPD (Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) refers to chronic bronchitis and emphysema, a pair of two commonly co-existing diseases of the lungs) this is a God-awful disease that slowly smothers a person to death.
During those final years Perry Mentzer was there by the dying man’s side doing everything that he could to comfort and aid him. In his efforts to aid the dying man, Perry made numerous inquiries and was met more-often-than-not, buy an indifferent and at time abusive bureaucracy. (Something that I encounter routinely in my research efforts.)
Undaunted Perry perseverated but as it became apparent that Bill was slipping away, Perry determined that he not be put into a paupers grave.
However, there was no paper trail for William Carl Snodgrass’s military service. At Perry’s urging and with his assistance Bill sent for his military records only to learn that some portion of them had been destroyed in a fire years ago. The military records bureaucracy wanted first this and then that to assist them in reconstructing the records. Bill was in the process of doing this when he ran out of life.
Toward the end of Bill’s days Perry reached out to a couple of retired PPD officers for guidance which he was given. Perry made the correct phone calls, talked to the correct people and earlier this week after nearly two weeks Perry learned that Bill’s service was as he had so long ago stated and he would be buried in a proper and befitting place that honors those who have served our nation.
Thus on Wednesday July 14th 2010 this inwardly scarred, old US Army Paratrooper, Prisoner of War of the North Koreans for 18 months, during which he subsisted on nothing but turnips, was laid to rest in a place of reverence and honor.
Had it not been for Perry Mentzer, retired Sergeant, Phoenix Police Department, the man would have been placed into a pauper’s grave with a number in place of a name. Of course it wouldn’t have mattered to Bill but it did matter to him that during those final difficult days of his life, as he struggled for each breath of air, that he enjoyed the friendship, the comfort of companionship of this crusty old Phoenix Police motor officer/sergeant.
I salute both of these men for they are; each in his own way, heroes and giants in my eyes.
Gordon A Hunsaker PPD#1198 (Retired)
