Memorial Day, 2015

Written by Robert Hoglind (my dad)

Jose del Vallé Park, Lakewood, California

Thank you, Mayor Wood. And thank you, Lakewood city officials, especially Bill Grady, Lisa Rapp, and D.J. Waldie for your hospitality. 

A thumbnail biography of my father with one short anecdote:

Hans Christian Hoglind was born 1921 in Randers, Denmark. When he was five, the family immigrated to the United States. His parents were Karl and Anna; his older siblings, Martha and Knute. Like so many of our immigrant ancestors, New York’s Ellis Island was their first stop. They eventually settled in Brooklyn. 

True story:

As a newcomer to the country, little Hansie found that the natives were friendly, sometimes too friendly. His new street pals were only too willing to help him with his English: they taught him certain words—good strong Anglo-Saxon words and phrases—which they then directed him to say to the nearest teacher or shopkeeper—or cop. It took Hansie a couple of years to figure out why he got into trouble from time to time. 

The family somehow made it through the Great Depression—barely. In 1942, not long after Pearl Harbor, my father enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps. He was discharged in 1962 and started an electrical contracting business. In 1977, he died of cancer, aged fifty-six.

I’ve been asked to talk about what military service meant to him. Three things come to mind:

Having spent his formative years enduring the Depression, my father welcomed the security and stability of military life. 

Next, patriotism. His was that intense form of patriotism of one who adopts himself into a country, rather than being born into it. 

And finally, he genuinely liked being a Marine. 

There’s actually a fourth “meaning” in my father’s military service. That meaning has three names: Steve Keimel, Al Motile, Gordon Riley— all friends from the nineteen forties on, all radar operators in the same squadron in Korea, and all gone now. 

They shared and celebrated holidays, weddings, births, and anniversaries. 

Their weekly Bridge games began in the service and continued well into the nineteen seventies, along with frequent fishing trips. 

When they recalled their war experience, it wasn’t about battles, explosions, and bullets—but about humorous episodes, remembered together with affection and respect. 

If Hans and Steve and Al and Gordon were here today, I know that they would be so happy and gratified to see this fine restoration—and the setting—representational and impressionistic—over which it stands. And they would admire and thank you, the Lakewood city leaders, from the bottom of their hearts for the time, effort, and expense you’ve put into this memorial. 

Back to that day in May, 1959:

We were a horde of screaming kids, mostly boys, eager to get onto this airplane and into the cockpit – uninterested in the various dignitaries and my father speaking on the stage next to the plane. 

We (and I include myself and my then, and still, best friend Skip Condé)—we weren’t interested in hearing Hans telling of that night in November of nineteen fifty two when he and the pilot, Major William Stratton (who hasn’t been mentioned yet here today) had their very big adventure. He recited place names—Korean cities and areas they were flying over—not graphic accounts of battles. 

So we kids, raised on the pretend heroics of John Wayne war movies and the fears and hatreds of the Cold War—we only wanted to get into the airplane and pretend that we were heroic flyers, shooting those dirty commies out of the sky. 

While all along on that low stage, speaking in a quiet unassuming voice, barely heard even with a microphone above our noise, all five-foot seven of him in his khaki uniform, right in front of us….stood the real deal. 

Background to the above speech given Memorial Day, 2015, Jose del Vallé Park, Lakewood, California:

Autumn, 1952 – Summer, 1953

Warrant Officer Hans C. Hoglind, United States Marine Corps, was stationed at a South Korean air base during the Korean War, as a radar operator on a night-fighter jet plane, the F3D Skyknight. The airplane’s pilot was Major William Stratton. Their squadron’s usual missions were in support of American bombers making night-time runs over North Korea.

Winter, 1952

On one such mission, their plane’s radar detected an enemy aircraft, which they  immediately fired upon and shot down. Since this was a “first,” the first time in history one jet plane shot down another jet plane at night, the two men were awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross medal.

1959

The Marine Corps was in the process of scrapping its fleet of F3D Skyknights due to obsolescence. However, various municipalities had expressed interest in acquiring, for their parks, warplanes as tributes to those who had fought for their country. And the Marines found that stripping out the planes and giving them to the cities that wanted them was less expensive than scrapping them.

So the city of Lakewood acquired a vintage warplane. It was set on the ground on its belly, with struts under the wings to keep it from rocking. Its dark blue paint was peeling here and there, revealing an earlier dark grey incarnation. A stage was built next to it for the dedication ceremony. Hans Hoglind, because of his association with the airplane, was invited to speak. His thirteen-year-old son Bob, and Bob’s best friend Skip Condé were with him.

For the next fifty-five years, the F3D fell into disrepair. Kids played on it until parts fell off or hung askew by hinges. It was painted and repainted and repainted to keep rust at bay. Finally, to prevent injury, it was mounted out of reach on a high pedestal. And repainted dark yellow.

2014

Lakewood city leaders decided that their city should rededicate the Ský́knight at the following year’s Memorial Day ceremony. So they procured the money and contracted with a Phoenix restoration company to bring the plane back to its former self. (Actually, not. It is now a bright white with green and red lettering.) They also searched the archives of local newspapers from the earlier time and found references to those involved in the original ceremony. Hans Hoglind’s daughter Lori Winther, and niece Judi Hoglind, were located and contacted. Through them, so was his son. The officials invited the three to the 2015 rededication ceremony. Bob, because he was there in 1959, and probably because he’s a guy, was asked to give a speech. They asked him to cover three topics: Hans Hoglind’s biography; what military service meant to him; Bob’s memory of the 1959 dedication ceremony. And please keep it under five minutes. (It’s true, they asked.)