Although Veterans Day signifies a great time for Americans to thank those who have served the country in the line of duty, it would mean more to today's veterans if it wasn't the only time.
Just ask Kenneth Fisk.
A veteran of the Fifth Marine Division, the 84-year-old Lakewood resident was grocery shopping at a nearby supermarket early last year when a young woman approached him and asked- after seeing a decal in his rear window-if he was at Iwo Jima.
He was, he replied. She thanked him, and by doing so thanked all the other survivors as well as the 6,800 Americans who lost their lives while participating in the Battle of Iwo Jima over 60 years ago.
"That just floored me," said Fisk, sitting on his chair surrounded by old pictures, books and a vintage Marine survival guide. "That was the first time anybody had shown any kind of reaction."
For years, Fisk has worn a Fifth Marine Division hat, complimented by red, white and blue suspenders. For years, he has had stories to tell: about war, Iwo Jima, bombing raids and buddies named "Burpin'" Birchwell and Lester Dunham. But not many people have offered those two words that mean so much to veterans: thank you.
A native of Buffalo, Fisk was born on February 19, 1925. Seven days after his 17th birthday - the required age to joined the armed services- his father signed him up. Less than three months beforehand, the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor and America had entered World War II. Fisk would be one of the millions of Americans defending the country.
"I went through all kinds of training - sniper school, scouting, combat, swimming - you name it I did it," remembered Fisk. He volunteered for the Fifth Marine Division and was sent to California, where he attended artillery school. In addition to military training, he learned math that would prove vital a year later when he was standing on the banks of Iwo Jima.
The island of Iwo Jima, located 650 nautical miles south mainland Tokyo, was a very strategic location because of the airstrips the Japanese had built on the southwestern part of the small island. Fisk remembered that, at the time of the attack, the Japanese had built two airstrips on the island and were adding a third - a "safe haven" place to land American B-29 bombers.
"When we landed, they told us there were firm beaches," said Fisk. "But the people that picked the beaches never got above the high water mark."
While telling the story, he walked over to a shelf in his living room and grabbed a small jar labeled "Iwo Jima sand." It wasn't like the yellow sand found on beach resorts, but was comprised of extremely small, black pebbles.
"I weighed 165 pounds, had 85 pounds of equipment and I sank up to my knees in that stuff," said Fisk. "I couldn't run. If I got down in it I would need someone to get me up again because of all the weight I was carrying."
Fisk and the rest of the team managed, however, and would spend 36 days on the island. He had dug a foxhole and covered it with sandbags, where he said he could "get a good night's sleep."
"When the boys come to get me, they would throw stones or something until the woke me up," said Fisk. "They didn't dare come close, and I'll show you why." He pulled out a large knife that he said he slept with on the island. With tensions so high, stones probably were a much safer option.
At Iwo Jima, Fisk served as a field artillery fire controller operator, which helped determine how to fire the artillery shells. All the math he had learned in the states was getting put to good use.
"My job was talking to the forwarded observers," he said. "I did the math. I could figure the effects of the atmosphere, wind direction, wind speed, air temperature, air density - all that stuff had an effect on artillery shells. So I computed all that in as the range shifts and gave it to a boy on the plotting board. He'd check the math and then I'd talk to the guns and tell them what they needed to know and what to fire."
One of the most memorable moments of battle for Fisk came when five Japanese were cutting across one of the airstrips. His team fired three shells, and Fisk and another Marine headed over to make sure the enemy was killed in the attack.
"We went up and checked on them and the snipers on the plains farther up picked us up and they started (firing) on us," said Fisk. "I could hear the 'zip,' 'bang' and see the dust fly when the damn things went by us. My buddy took off and I was right behind him."
When they had reached a safe zone, they were lying behind a log and conversed about the situation.
"Fisk, you're all white, you okay?" his buddy had asked.
"I said, 'yeah ... I was afraid you were going to get knocked down and I didn't know how the hell I was going to get you up,'" he said, laughed about a situation that is more amusing now that it was at the time.
With the help of the classic photograph taken at Iwo Jima, many Americans know the end of the story. The island was captured, and Fisk and his division moved on with the war. From September until December, Fisk was one of the men assigned to disarm villages throughout Japan.
"We went from village to village and we would put it up under Marshall law while we were there," said Fisk. "Our people patrolled streets. We'd go to the Japanese police station and we'd get their cops out on the street with us. We'd go through all the buildings, all the houses. We'd go in, lift up the floormats and everything. We left nothing that could be used militarily."
Despite being ready for combat at all times, Fisk said "the only thing that happened" was an explosion caused when water reacted with drums of metallic sodium.
"I was there that length of time and I never fired a shot," he said. Just in time for Christmas, Fisk and his division returned to America in early December 1945.
"They gave us a new green uniform with no tears, they gave us liberty, but they didn't pay us," said Fisk. "We spent Christmas Day in San Diego walking along the streets picking up nickels and dimes and quarters people had dropped out of their pockets until we got enough to buy some chili from a local restaurant. That was our Christmas."
Using the math he had learned before the war, Fisk went on to become involved with flour milling, earning a high school equivalent degree from Kansas State University and learning (and practicing) chemistry at home from the International Correspondents School. Prior to 1987, he and his wife, Theola Hilda, lived in places like Cheektowaga, West Falls and Erie. In 1987, Fisk retired and the couple moved to Jamestown, where Fisk's parents were married decades beforehand.
His home is now decorated with a visual biography of his life. A United States Marine prayer shawl sits draped over a chair and his jar of Iwo Jima sand rests on the bookshelf, a vivid reminder of the long 36 days he spent on the island. His refrigerator is covered with pictures of his children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and others close to him.
"You want to hear about age," he asked, smiling. "I have a great-granddaughter that just got married. That makes you feel old. A great-granddaughter, not a granddaughter."
To pay homage to the war, Fisk flies an Iwo Jima flag under the American flag from his birthday on February 19 until March 28, when he left the island decades ago.
"The thinking behind that is I am paying my respects to the 6,800 marines that died there," said Fisk. "That was one of the shortest and costliest campaigns the Marine Corps was ever in."
Like the young woman at the supermarket, perhaps we should make sure we pay our respects to those and the millions of other men and women who have served in the armed forces as well.
You never know, you might hear a good story.
