History Slipping Away
Audrey Fleeger steps lightly around bricks in Diamond Park, trying to locate her brother, Tag Donaldson.
He is among the hundreds of veterans whose names are engraved there on 9-inch stones.
Explaining his real name is Dexter Leroy, Fleeger tells how her mother coined the nickname Tag when he repeatedly "tagged" after an older brother.
"I don't have too much information," said Fleeger, who was just 12 when her brother left for the service. "It was sort of like a dream."
"(But) I remember being at home and the Western Union guy came with the message: My mother cried and cried and cried and cried."
At 78, Fleeger is among a dwindling few who recall the fallen World War II soldier.
Although Chicora's VFW Post 7876 is named after Donaldson, few details were preserved in writing.
Nearby, Chicora's American Legion faces a similar problem.
"I'm 64, and I'm the youngest (in my post)," said Chuck Hetrick, who serves as secretary and adjutant for Post 642.
"And I'm sort of thinking that all these 80-plus (guys). What's going to happen in 10 years? Someone has to know something about the post if it's going to be remembered."
Although the post is named after soldiers Dierken and Ritzert, its written histories also lack detail.
"There's two pictures on the wall, but I don't know if they are them. They are very, very old pictures," Hetrick said.
"The characteristics of all the Ritzerts I know resemble this gentleman right here," he added.
Chartered in November 1930, that post memorializes Lloyd D. Dierken and Vincent Charles Ritzert — or it might be Charles Vincent. Some of the records conflict.
Hetrick began researching documents after putting feelers out in the community, where one man believed he was a distant cousin.
From there, Hetrick consulted with the Butler Library's genealogy staff about cemetery and military tombstone records.
An obituary index confirmed Ritzert, of Donegal Township died in battle at age 28.
The son of Mr. and Mrs. Adam Ritzert, the write-up said "There were no particulars as to the manner in which the young man met his death. The young man was a driller by occupation, and had been in the Army for several months."
Dierken died at 24.
"I'm assuming Dierken was an oil driller also, because there's a well over in Donegal Township by the name of Dierken's Well, and there were wells in Karns City on Dierken's Lane where the homestead is," Hetrick speculated.
Like the Chicora veterans groups, those in Butler face history problems.
Bill Molczan of Butler Township is a life member of the Frederick O. Blankenship American Legion Post 117. Although he can locate no written history on Blankenship, storytelling allows him to pass history along.
Working as a state policeman when officers still lived in the barracks, Molczan often engaged in storytelling with his commanding officer, William R. Hanna."He was in World War I, and I was in World War II," said Molczan, who served at the Butler barracks for 37 years."He lived right next door to the barracks, and sometimes he'd come over and chat."Molczan explained how Hanna, originally of Grove City, had repeated the story of serving in the Army's 112th Infantry, 28th Division, which combined armories from around the state. Originally from Butler, Blankenship was among the soldiers who ended up serving alongside Hanna.According to Molczan, Hanna often talked about the death of Blankenship, a man Hanna hadn't formerly known and would not encounter for many years until he entered the Butler Legion post and saw the dead soldier's portrait there.After Hanna's many tellings of the incident on Sept. 28, 1918, at Le Chene Tondu Ridge, Argonne Forest, France, Molczan now repeats the story."Orders came down from headquarters to consolidate, dig in and post sentries. We were glad to stop and rest as we were beat. I found a place in the trench and dug a fox hole to sleep in. Across the ridge was a small clearing and more woods."The German troop were in these woods doing the same thing we were doing. The quartermaster managed to bring up some fresh water and food, which was welcomed. Also, a resupply of ammunition. We checked over our equipment and arms and made ready for the night."As it was getting toward twilight, I saw Lt. Blankenship coming up the trench with another soldier headed for the point. He was going up to reconnoiter what was in front of us. I said hello to him as he went past, and that was the last time I saw him alive. He was gone less than 20 minutes when word came back that he had been shot by a German sniper."A little while later we heard noises coming down the trench. It was two stretcher bearers carrying the lieutenant back to the morgue in the rear," Molczan concluded."Twenty-five years later and a half a world away, their paths crossed again in name only in the town of Butler, Pennsylvania," he said.With only this spoken narrative to remember, Molczan tried unsuccessfully to gather additional details on Blankenship."I looked. I couldn't find it anywhere, I even went to the archives in Harrisburg," he said.So for now, the retired policeman and World War II veteran continues retelling the story."The generations that are coming on that are going to take our place: You cannot know anything about what might happen unless you know something about what did happen in the past."Then you can judge or project what might happen in the future," he said.
