By Chelsea Royer
Howard Carter is a World War II veteran, husband and grandfather. His eyesight isn’t too great anymore, but the tone of his voice is mesmerizing as he remembers happenings from another time and place that my generation has trouble envisioning. I asked Howard a few questions in the comfort of his Montesano home, but it wasn’t a typical interview. Instead, he handed me a blue binder and said, “It’s all in there. My granddaughter pulled out all of the notes I’d written about the war and put it into this binder for me.”
I opened the binder to find pages and pages of Howard’s memoirs, photos of a young man experiencing the aftermath of battles like Normandy Beach and visiting historic landmarks such as Hitler’s mountain home. The opening page, following copies of his honorable discharge, reads, “Going into the army at wartime, at 19 years of age, I learned just how small of a part of the world you really are. I learned what being away from your girlfriend and family was really like – how you looked forward to the mail from home for some contact with what you left, and how to get along with all types. I make no mention of the destruction, hunger, injured, dying or dead that civilian or military went through. I grew up in 3 years.”
Howard was born in Wynoochee Valley, a steady man who enjoyed working with his hands and hunting in the woods. He was drafted into the Army in 1943 and headed to basic training in Fort Eustes, Virginia.
Howard recalls enjoying himself while at the rifle range, but a lieutenant became frazzled when seeing the way Howard held and fired his weapon. That is, until he discovered Howard had a nearly perfect firing score. He didn’t have anything to say to Howard after that. It seems that Howard had a habit of doing things differently than the rule book. Doing things the “wrong way,” he would often get it right and one time it resulted in a promotion. Seeing the company commander miss his target using anti-aircraft machinery, Howard hopped up into the ring mount and opened fire at the invitation of the commander. He blew the target to bits as his commander told him that wasn’t the way the book said to perform the duty. After Howard was done, the commander looked at him and said, “Sergeant, you are in charge of the guns.” With those words, Howard received his promotion.
Because of his experience at home working with vehicles, Howard’s main job was as a mechanic in the war. He and others would scour the roads post-battle and find machinery to salvage, often at the risk of their own lives. He may not have been on the front lines, but he supported those who were and experienced enough gunfire that he is fortunate to be still be alive.
When asked what his most memorable moment was from the war, Howard’s answer is much different than what you would expect. “We were to deliver M4 Tanks to Normandy Beach and the night before, we heard someone singing the Old Rugged Cross on base in Southampton, England. He was playing it on his guitar and you could have heard a pin drop otherwise,” recalls Howard. That moment stuck with him all through the war and especially the next day as he arrived at the wasteland of Normandy Beach. Given a map, he was directed to deliver his tank to the requested location and then head back to his unit. With German bombers filling the sky and enemies hidden in random locations, Howard delivered his tank and then proceeded back to his unit alone and on foot.
Howard eventually ran into a fellow soldier whom he spent the night with, but regarding Normandy, Howard says, “There is very little I remember about the first few weeks in Normandy. It’s just like a blank.” The ensuing adventures for Howard, however, were full of near-death experiences, gunfire and adventure.
When it came time for Howard to be honorably discharged, he recalls, “I was told not to talk about the war unless I was asked a direct question about it. Nowadays, they tell soldiers to talk about their experiences in order to work through them. There is much untold history from WWII simply because we were told not to speak of it. Writing it all down, however, helps.”
Howard travelled across Europe, saw what was left of Hitler’s mountain home, and survived harsh weather as well as gunfire. His memoirs scratch the surface of a fascinating part of history.
Once discharged, Howard returned to Montesano to start his family where he has lived ever since. His story of trial and victory is little known, neatly stashed in a blue binder for future generations to discover. This kind of history needs to be told, heard, preserved, and honored.
Thank you, Howard, for your service to your country.
