Story Under a Stone: George Cullen, Seabee

Our young men and women answered a call to go to war in World War II. Their faces remain in living memory, but most of them have passed on to eternal rest. It has been educational for  a bystander like myself to dig into their service and form a picture - although very incomplete - of their time and place in that service. Most of the ones that come to mind were raised on farms and   knew how to do things, thereby becoming valuable assets in their military units. 

After the war was over they came home but  didn’t speak much about their wartime  experiences, except in general terms. George Cullen found himself in the midst of a horrendous and bloody battle that would never have come to light for me except for casual dinner table talk. George sheared sheep, and Dad asked him to come shear ours one spring day. Over a probable plate of roast beef and mashed potatoes, Dad asked something about his service. He said he’d been a Navy Seabee and was at Iwo Jima. Not much else remains of that talk because it didn’t go much further, but I remember his mentioning the grainy sand that was so hard to work in. Nothing came out about the tremendous number of human casualties he found himself in the midst of.

In the voluminous records of WW2 I found George Edwin Cullen’s name in a book titled “The 62nd Naval Construction Battalion.” In that history on page 184 his name appears on the enlisted men’s roster with  hometown of Sheldon and rank of Master Machinist 2nd Class. George was a Seabee, that group of men who took their name from the letters CB which pronounced becomes Seabees. The official symbol depicts “The Fighting Bee” carrying a wrench, a hammer, and a machine gun with their motto proclaiming “We Build, We Fight.” Specifics of his time in uniform couldn’t be found, but let’s surmise some of it.

A well known photograph from that time shows six marines raising the flag on Iwo Jima’s Mount Suribachi. To clarify, Seabees weren’t Marines, but they were there on the island right beside them. Maybe George saw them raising that flag into our historical memory. An aside, Ira Hayes, a Pima Indian, was one of the six. He couldn’t handle the after effects of PTSD and died to be remembered in Johnny Cash’s song “The Ballad of Ira Hayes.”

Why did the United States military decide that the island of Iwo Jima needed to be taken even if it would be costly? And costly it was with almost 7,000 U.S. personnel killed and over 19,000 wounded. Its location and airstrip would make the Japanese mainland an accessible target for bombers. The war ended with Japan’s surrender after atomic bombs convinced it that they should stop. One source termed the whole affair on Iwo Jima as a “Nightmare in Hell.” The Japanese must have thought so, too, after losing almost all of their garrison of 20,000 men stationed there.

The Seabees trained as naval engineers to build roads and airfields. But because their motto stated “We Build, We Fight,” they also carried weapons to defend themselves if need be. Their history tells us they were often in the thick of it and fought off Banzai attacks, ducked sniper’s bullets, and headed for cover when mortar shells started falling. Their favorite gun was said to be the easy-to-carry M1 carbine, although a much larger array of weapons was available to them.

The Seabees were naval engineers, experts at building the roads that would be needed to reopen the island's airfields. From their history we read how dawn broke on the 62nd’s first morning on the beach and found them cramped and stiff from sleeping in their shallow foxholes. They woke to scenes of incredible destruction, dive bombers launching rockets on the Japanese, and thousands of men piling the beaches high with supplies from hundreds of ships off-shore. Still fresh in their minds were the kamikaze plane attacks they endured and fought off the day before as they came ashore. 

With pure water being in very short supply, they set about building water purification units. But thousands of men required a lot of it. They possessed one item those Marines and Seabees found very useful in the water shortage, their heavy helmets. A helmet didn’t hold much water but enough to cook food, wash hands, launder clothes, even use as a bed pan when they didn’t want to stick their heads above ground for the call of nature. It also worked well to dig foxholes in the volcanic sand. 

That’s about all for George in this Story Under a Stone. Personal wartime information for him didn’t present itself, but with imaginative thought, we can place him in the thick of the battle, along with the Marines and his fellow Seabees for 36 days. A lot of men fought and died on the the tiny island just eight miles square. Then, with memories still fresh for many participants, we gave the island back to the Japanese in 1968.

George came back home to live a quiet life on his small farm south of Sheldon. I remember him as a humble, non-assuming man who felt lucky to come home again. The country will celebrate him and millions of other service men and women on November 11. 

RANDOM THOUGHTS - Wed, Nov 4, 2026

Fargo’s city sprawl keeps covering the best farmland in the world  … They just couldn’t wait to advertise Christmas … Thanksgiving Day holiday has become an afterthought … Winter will hit anytime now … Hoping for a calm after-election-atmosphere … You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take … So far this is the oldest I’ve been … North Dakota is 137 years old now … Veterans Day is November 11 …  The old cowboy said, ”Makin’ it in life is kinda like bustin’ broncs: you’re gonna get thrown a lot. The simple secret is to keep gettin’ back on." …  On this day in 1492, Christopher Columbus learned how to grow and harvest maize (corn) from Cuba's Indigenous population  …  

🦬   

Sometimes a few words can remain with you. So it is with this sentiment spoken by a Leningrad survivor: “Is that all? All that’s left of such horror? A few dozen words?” She was referring to that time when a bloody, long battle was fought in the city of Stalingrad when the Russians refused to let the German army take it over in World War II.

🦬

 Here’s a picture of a very nice puzzle, including the one that she just put together.

Story Under a Stone - The Other McGraths

      

A headline in a September 24, 1944 stated, “4 McGraths of Sheldon Serve.” Not particularly remarkable since many families had multiple members serving in the war, but it embodied the unique stories of siblings Joseph, Thomas, James, and Kathleen. We looked at Joe’s service as deeply as we could, so we’ll have a look at the other three. 

     We will start with James’ brief and tragic service training as a gunner on a B-24 bomber. While his obituary states he flew with a crew on a B-29, all other indicators point to the B-24 model. At the age of 26 he met his death in a stateside training flight when the plane, on a training mission, crashed into a mountain in Idaho. James was brought home and buried in the Sheldon cemetery.

     Andy Rooney, a past reporter on the CBS “60 Minute” show, wrote a book named  MY WAR. I found in it a significant passage that might explain why James McGrath died as he did. In World War II Rooney, a reporter for the Stars and Stripes newspaper, flew with the bomber crews, and knew something about their planes. He wrote, “Training accidents were common. A disproportionate number of those were in B-24s.” Another source said the B-24s were hard to handle and pilots often compared it to flying a truck.

     Information regarding Kathleen informs that she graduated from nurses training and enlisted in the US Navy Nurse Corps in May of 1943. The reason she chose the Navy was because they offered her the choice of duty overseas or stateside. Since her brothers had no choice, she thought her parents would prefer her staying stateside. Here are her words about her brother Jim, “I was at work at the US Naval Hospital in Farragut, Idaho, and I had heard of a plane crash. I didn’t even know that Jim had been flying, but I couldn’t get if off my mind. The next day I received notification. Six were killed and Jimmy was among them.” Kathleen flew back to Sheldon to be with her parents, and when she arrived, her mother looked at her and said, “You shouldn’t have flown.”

    Farragut, ID where Kathleen served was primarily a boot camp for upwards of 300,000 recruits, but its hospital  grew to  over 1,000 surgical beds and treated acute infections, routine recruit illnesses, and later wounded combat servicemen from the war fronts, performing several thousand operations.

     Over the years, Thomas became an internationally famous poet, but before that developed, he enlisted in the US Army Air Force during World War II. After training in Illinois he was deployed to the Aleutian Islands where he spent two years stationed in the cold, lonely island of Amchitka, Alaska. Here the airfield launched bombers to the Japanese held islands of Kiska and Attu. (Remember the story of the army scout Willis J. Cruden, killed by a Japanese sniper on Attu. Find it at lynnbueling.blogspot.com ) At first, he felt joining the army was the right thing to do, but his grueling assignment grew as tedious for him as it did for many others. He didn’t like the endless mud, fierce winds, heavy fogs, and freezing temperatures. Most of all, though, was the isolation and boredom.

     FBI and service records indicate he was a highly disciplined airman and earned a Good Conduct Medal, the American Theatre Service Ribbon, a Meritorious Unit Award, and the Asiatic Pacific Theatre Medal. After his service he became an activist and wrote an anti-war poem titled, “All the Dead Soldiers,” which can be found at The Poetry Foundation.

     Some of this material came from “Thomas McGrath: The Early Years, plus a Biographical Sketch” by Pamela Sund. Another long piece is Dale Jacobson’s “A Memoir of Thomas McGrath.” A good deal of reading can be found in these written pieces. Search them out on the internet.

Pictures from “Thomas McGrath: The Early Years” by Pamela Sund.

Another veteran story is on tap. Look for it just before Veterans Day.

The Cost of War

 Used book sales draw me like metal to a magnet. Those recent events in our local libraries   furnished me with some finds that offer hours of reading. One of them, Andy Rooney’s My War, gave a unique perspective on participating in World War II. As a reporter for the widely circulated Stars and Stripes newspaper, he was embedded with bomber crews to see the war from their side. Learning a great deal when he rode along on bombing runs, he wrote of the money being spent in meaningful terms. At the time the large .50 caliber guns the crewmen shot at attacking planes cost about $1.00 per bullet. With all guns blazing, it didn’t take long to expend thousands of dollars’  worth of ammunition. One estimate places the cost for today’s war at 33 billion dollars in 30 days in Iran. Even the drones cost thousands. Go figure.

Story Under a Stone - Joseph E. McGrath

     Someone like me who has not seen combat will not pretend to describe it. My only basis of experience, aside from reading historical books, has been from snippets of conversation or  films.  Movies stray far from the truth and the emotions experienced by the participants. One movie, Saving Private Ryan, might come closest to the mark from which I’ve heard stories of some veterans who were unable to watch and had to leave the theater with their horrific memories revived.

     Many veterans around home that we knew and whose pictures hang on the wall in the community center went through battlefield hell in the particular war they fought in. It was common knowledge around Sheldon that Joe McGrath experienced hellish combat as a paratrooper as he jumped into World War II battlefields. So many specifics about his service could not be found, but with some deep digging we can draw a partial picture of his years in the army. 

     After he died, the story was told that upon opening a drawer in his house family members found several medals for service and for bravery. Those medals included a Bronze Star, a Purple Heart, a Presidential Unit Citation, a European Campaign Medal, and a Good Conduct Medal. 

     The Bronze Star Medal was awarded for heroic or meritorious achievement or service in a combat zone during military operations against an armed enemy. The Presidential Unit Citation was awarded to his unit that performed under extraordinary, hazardous conditions that clearly set them apart from every other unit in the same campaign. It is rarely awarded and is reserved for units that perform remarkably dangerous, difficult, and heroic missions in battle. Circumstances for his award of the Purple Heart could not be found.

     After looking through rosters of paratroops in the 82nd and 101st airborne,  his  name appeared - Joseph E. McGrath - as a member of the 82nd Airborne Division, 507th Parachute Infantry Regiment (PIR), Company B. That group jumped at least twice, once on D-Day and another near the Seine River in Germany. The rest of the time he probably slogged along on foot.

     It must have been quite an experience for him, heavily-loaded down with gear, to climb aboard his plane and fly to a drop zone.  That early morning over 800 C-47s transported 13,500 American paratroops to jump on D-Day. One of them wrote that when airborne he looked out a window to a remarkable sight and said, “There were so many planes that you could almost walk across them.” Then when he looked down he saw with further amazement the huge fleet of ships in the English Channel on their way to France.

     Joe McGrath’s plane with the number 32837 painted on the tail, was headed to a designated spot west of the Merderet River, but heavy clouds and smoke from German anti-aircraft fire complicated navigation for pilots. He and his fellow plane occupants landed about 2:00 a.m. on June 6th in deep water marshes near St-Mere-Eglise. Luckily, he survived and waded out, but some of his fellow-soldiers didn’t. 

     After regrouping they were given the task of taking and defending a strategically important bridge at La Fiere where they fought in a brutal battle lasting for several days. Without control of the bridge, American forces would not have been able to advance from the beaches. It cost. Nearly 250 American lives were lost here. This fight earned them the Presidential Unit Citation. The battle in this spot was probably “the bloodiest small-unit struggle in the experience of American arms,” according to one military historian. (The last scene in the movie “Saving Private Ryan” where Tom Hanks’ character fought and died was here.)

     Joe’s outfit entered another big battle when Hitler decided to start a last counteroffensive in the Ardennes. The Germans had waited for bad weather conditions with clouds and fog to prevent the Allies from using their superior air force. Then on December 16, 1944, The Germans successfully pushed the Allies back into that bulge found in any battle map. When the weather  cleared, however,  the Americans brought their air power into force and started a counterattack. By mid-January 1945 a lack of fuel forced the Germans to simply abandon their vehicles, a fact fatal to Hitler’s thoughts of victory. On 25 January 1945 the battle was over. The Battle of the Bulge was the costliest operation ever fought by the U.S. Army, counting 10,733 American soldiers  killed and 42,316 wounded. 

     One more parachute jump came for Joe. On March 24, 1945, the largest airborne assault in history saw 16,000 men dropped on the east bank of the Rhine River to support the Allied crossing there. Here they captured the town of Diersfordt, and overran a German headquarters. Six weeks later Germany surrendered.

     Most of the facts of Joe’s actions in WW II could not be found. For instance, why did he earn the Bronze Star and how was he wounded to earn the Purple Heart. Maybe someone out there knows and can respond.

     With an honorable discharge, he came home to live out his days. Matters at home needed tending to. Manufacturers started making cars again, but roads had become neglected and needed attention. He bought a gravel truck and drove many miles while dumping the much needed gravel on road surfaces.

     The McGrath family made a strong contribution to the war effort. In September, 1943 the Fargo Forum featured four of them under a headline “4 McGraths of Sheldon Serve.” We will continue with their story next time. 

     As an aside, another Sheldonite, Mike Ranney, was a member of the 506th PIR Regiment of “The Band of Brothers.” He and Joe probably did not cross paths during the war.

He's in there somewhere.

La Fiere Bridge where a bloody battle was fought

I Hunger for Lefse

 There is nothing profound here…

Fresh lefse brings me on the run

Some like it with sugar and cinnamon

I like thick butter smear

Just watch it disappear

Then I’m ready to grab another one.

…

At first you roll out the dough

At least that’s what I’ve been told

Make it thin

with a rolling pin

Fry it on the stove and... magnifico!

…

Lutefisk and lefse - ya, ya, ya

It all follows an ancient formula

Find a church supper

Find words to utter

This is good - ooh, la, la.

Limits of Language

 Lynn Bueling

Here is a Facebook memory from O͏c͏t͏o͏b͏e͏r͏ ͏1͏6͏,͏ ͏2͏0͏1͏6͏ · 

Shared with Public

My college English major (VCSU '64) sensibility loved the BisTrib's editorial today about restoring civility. In part it said, "We need to do a better job of teaching the language. We need a larger vocabulary. Too often we fall back on nasty words because we don't know how to make a civil argument. We lack the words and rely on stringing together insults to make a point." It couldn't have been better said.

Story Under a Stone (but where’s the stone, where’s the grave?) October 16, 2026

Here’s a story so unique that readers might wonder if it is true. It was passed down from a Sheldon area historian named F. A. Baguhn. We’ll repeat it in his words but will take it further as the story progresses. The following is printed using Baguhn’s words

     At countless little cemeteries in the state the day before Memorial day, farmers, their wives and children were pulling weeds, working flower beds, planting fresh blooms and placing bouquets. A visit to one of these, a reading of some of the markers over the graves of pioneers was followed by a trip by this writer to an old farm and to the telling of this story about an unknown child who lies in an unknown grave.

     The place was in the sandhill country southeast of Sheldon, in Ransom County. In the year 1872 two families, the H. R. Wards and Oscar Wards, and a relative, a Mr. Griffith, were haying and trapping along the Sheyenne. A man came and asked them to go to his cabin three miles away the next day to help him bury one of his children.

     About 15 settlers came for the funeral. When they got there they found the father had built a coffin of rough lumber and had dug a grave under a tree. The coffin was in the house, resting on some home made stools. The parents and several other children were at hand. The settlers walked to the coffin and the little body. Then moved back and stood looking at each as much as to say “what are we to do next.”

     Then the door opened and two children entered, a boy of about 16 and a girl of 14. They were children of a French half-breed family about a mile away. They stopped near the door for a few seconds, looking at the settlers wonderingly. Then they walked to where to where the coffin rested, dropped on their knees, made the sign of the cross. Each repeated a few words in a language those assembled could not understand. They arose and stood with heads bowed.

     One of the men motioned and the group carried the coffin to the grave. At the side of the grave were other stools to rest the coffin on. When all was ready there was another pause and again none seemed to know what to do. The little half-breed girl was standing next to the coffin, looking from one to another as much as to say, “Don’t you know what to do?”

     The settlers stood mute in their hopelessness. The little girl sensed what they wanted. She knelt and offered up one of the finest prayers many there had ever heard. With her brother she sang two verses of a hymn. It made a profound impression on those who looked on. Everyone who saw and heard the little girl and her brother that day left better men and women.

…    …   …     

     The Wards, who were among the witnesses of the little boys’ burial, told this stirring episode in which they became involved some years later. The Ward family left Owego and traveled with wagons pulled by oxen and a small herd of cattle to the Bismarck area. H. O. (Henry) Ward then wrote the story of traveling from Bismarck to the Black Hills with a herd of beef to sell to a growing market of miners for their appetites.

     Along the route they camped one night at a location known as Big Meadow Creek where they were attacked by Indians who wanted to take the beef herd for themselves. They did get away with some, but a gunfight ensued and George was killed. With no time to mourn, they buried him wrapped in two new blankets. They went on to arrive in Rapid City with some spreading out to Crook City.

     Another party followed and reported that they camped at Big Meadow and found George’s body had been dug up by Indians who stole the blankets wrapping him and left him there on top of the ground. Those travelers reburied him. On the return trip to Bismarck the Wards looked for his grave but could not find it on account of there having been so much traffic trampling the ground and erasing any sign of its location.

     Two stories and no stones mark the graves. History tells us that this wasn’t unusual in those old pioneering days.

Northern Narratives

 Last evening we attended our first "Northern Narratives" gathering sponsored by the Fargo Public Library. They annually choose and publish poetry, stories, and photographs from submitted work. They chose two of mine - The Gettysburg Battlefield and A Homestead Mother - and included them in a fine volume. The pictures show me presenting one of them to the large crowd and the other is the photography winner with a picture of her son not knowing what to do with the frog on his shirt. We'll post a video later today.

IKE MILKS THE COW

After visiting the Eisenhower Presidential Library and Museum in Abilene, Kansas, I wanted to find a souvenir of the visit. The gift shop featured a nice variety of books where I had no trouble finding one - EISENHOWER IN WAR AND PEACE by Jean Edward Smith. Several reviewers consider it one of Ike’s best biographies.

We know about Eisenhower’s contributions to military and political life, but his story includes some of the simpler things in life, too. After the invasion of Europe had gotten well under way, he decided to relocate his headquarters from England to Normandy. In appreciation for the gift of liberation, some local farmers offered him a milk cow so he and his staff could enjoy fresh milk.

Smith included a humorous anecdote about the general’s staff members trying to milk the cow. Ike’s mess sergeant along with two others didn’t to know the technique of milking a cow. He said, “Each of us tried, pulling, squeezing, massaging, but we couldn’t get a drop.” Then Ike came on the scene and asked what was going on. When he learned they couldn’t get any milk from the cow, he sat down on the stool and began to milk it. After filling the bucket he stood and said, “You city slickers have a lot to learn.”

Wildlife Puzzle

 Mary's latest. She said this was the hardest 1000 piece that she's done. But it's a good one.

RANDOM THOUGHTS - Thursday, Oct 8, 2026

 RANDOM THOUGHTS - Thursday, Oct 8, 2026

I’ve discovered that the less I do, the less I can do … AI has some promise, but so far the biggest promise is turmoil … line from song “Oh, Lord, don’t let that cold wind blow til I’m too old to die young” … We took our flu and covid shots the other day - no excuse for the measles outbreak in some parts of the country … My mantra could be “Octogenarians, unite “… You cannot think any deeper than the size of your vocabulary allows you to … C. M. Russell, the great painter of western scenes, died 100 years ago this month … When we sit around at night watching some TV, I’ll find the Dutchman Andre Rieu concerts on Youtube (I wonder if our Dutch friends watch him) … I’ve been writing a few posts I call “Stories Under a Stone” featuring people buried in my hometown cemetery. Find them sprinkled throughout my blog site - lynnbueling.blogspot.com …   On this day in 1871, a huge fire in Chicago began in O’Leary’s barn, and, by the time the blaze died out two days later, a large portion of the city had been destroyed with the death of some 300 people …

🦅    🦅   🦅   🦅   🦅 

David McCullough (1933-2022) took his place as one of my favorite historians with great written works about John Adams, Truman, The Wright Brothers, and several more. My recent purchase of one of his books - HISTORY MATTERS - has been opened and read from countless times. It was produced after his death by his daughter and another close associate who selected and compiled some of his works into one volume. First thoughts about it, what is the meaning of the title that can take on two different meanings: is the word “Matters” a verb or is it a noun. Either one would certainly be correct usage of the word; however, I choose to lean toward the verb form, since I believe that it does matter.

     Here is what McCullough says in one place, “It is sad but true that we are raising a generation of young Americans who are to a large degree historically illiterate.” He gave a disturbing illustration of an encounter with someone he’d met who told him she had no interest in history. When asked why she told him you never know what’s true and what isn’t, and when queried a bit further, went on to say she didn’t believe the Holocaust happened! For the intellectually curious person, it is easy to find and read hundreds of testimonials by survivors who certainly disagree.

Up Where the Apples Are

 Yesterday was a great day to "get a lift" into an apple tree and pick a couple bushels. Karen and I smile through the branches, Lance handles the "lift" and Mary runs the camera.