What a South Sound World War II hero can teach us about life, death in COVID-19 age
George Harmon Williams was a World War ll veteran, a US Army Airborne paratrooper who jumped into Germany and helped liberate Europe, literally the last of a dying breed.
The honorable life he led as a soldier, a Puget Sound aerospace engineer and the father of 16 children has something to teach us about life at the time of another existential threat, COVID-19.
Williams’ passing last week at age 95 also carries lessons about death in the age of coronavirus — how Americans can still join together and memorialize heroes in their midst, despite obstacles and restrictions that feel unfair.
The desire to properly say goodbye to those we love and admire is as powerful as most any human instinct, one that won’t be quelled by wars, wildfires or pandemic shutdowns.
It’s activated on a national level after the deaths of major public figures like Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. It happens on a community level for fallen leaders like Tacoma civil rights pioneer Harold Moss. And it’s stirred up on a smaller scale every day for thousands of people who slip under the headlines. People like George Williams.
Out of 16 million Americans who served in World War II, only 300,000 are still alive. Soon, their experience will be retrieved only through memories of loved ones, letters, archived newspapers, books and movies.
It’s why we urge anyone with a relative who lived through wars to get them talking. Now, more than ever, their stories remind us what’s possible when Americans pull together.
Americans from all walks of life stepped up to rid the world of sinister megalomaniacs and united under the banner of freedom and democracy. Whether they fought overseas or served on the homefront, their stories include rationing, sacrifice and living with fear and uncertainty.
Williams’ son-in-law, Philip Ernest of Spanaway, told us Williams wasn’t a chest-thumper; he didn’t crow about his role fighting the Nazis. Stories of heroism and survival came in later years when time had put distance between his experience and his memory.
Williams grew up in Pennsylvania, was drafted into the Army and took the extra $50 a month to train as a paratrooper at age 18. A year after graduating high school, he found himself huddled in a plane with other members of the 17th Airborne Division headed for Germany, where, Ernest told us, “he hoped he folded his parachute perfectly, so it would open.”
Indeed, many in the 513th Parachute Infantry Regiment didn’t survive that jump in late March 1945. “When they all hit the ground, he saw that the men on either side of him were hit and dead.” Williams checked the dog tags on unrecognizable forms to see if any were his buddies.
Williams, who would later use his GI benefits to train for a career as a Boeing engineer, survived that and many subsequent harrowing encounters while marching through Germany.
But the Des Moines resident was more apt to speak of unexpected kindnesses he encountered along the way, like the elderly German woman who signaled to him to stay in her basement after he was separated from his unit.
He died Sept. 17 and will be laid to rest Oct. 9 at Tahoma National Cemetery in Kent. Ernest lamented that due to coronavirus restrictions, a proper funeral —one that could accommodate many of Williams’ 52 grandchildren and 42 great grandchildren — was difficult to arrange and almost didn’t happen. Now it’s scheduled at a local church, with livestreaming for family members who can’t attend in person.
“We’re following all the guidelines and protocols,” Ernest said. “People will mask up and do the smart things.”
Gov. Jay Inslee’s updated guidance for weddings and funerals allows receptions to resume after positive COVID tests around Washington recently dropped. But receptions and ceremonies must be capped at 30 people, or 25 percent of venue occupancy, whichever is less.
The numbers may seem arbitrary, the emotional impact on families cruel, but protecting public health requires government leaders to make unpopular decisions.
The sacrifices of Williams and his fellow veterans are worthy of reflection. We’ve arrived at a moment in US history when we can no longer ignore that justice is not uniformly applied and that the freedom they fought for is still denied to many.
It’s important to note, too, that Black activists often credit World War II for exposing the hypocrisy of white Americans who condemned Naziism while ignoring persistent racism in their own neighborhoods.
So, here’s where we take a page from Williams’ playbook. We were told his most defining feature was his faith, something we could all use a little more of these days.
We must have faith that while many battles lie ahead, we will endure — faith that we will reunite with friends and family for celebrations and times of mourning.
But more important, we must have faith that great things happen when we all stand up for what’s right; when we harness the kind of courage it took to jump out of airplanes into Nazi-occupied Europe.
To do what must be done to make our country all it can be.