thedrifter
06-29-07, 06:04 AM
Plainfield WWII veteran shares tales of war, peace
June 29, 2007
By David V. Wendell special to the sun
Anthony Culik of Plainfield said "no" to an admiral who was a living legend - and lived to tell about it.
He also survived many other encounters and conditions in his life that give him a rich understanding of American history.
Because of these experiences, Culik was invited to participate recently in a historical forum at the National Trust for Historic Preservation's Gaylord Building in Lockport.
During the two-hour conference, he shared memories of his role in some of history's most defining moments and even revealed a few secrets along the way.
Culik was born in Joliet in 1921, the son of a technician. He said that while this made him fairly comfortable in his early childhood, when the Depression hit in the early 1930s, that all changed.
Culik's father retained his job, but for millions of others, no jobs were available.
Seeing it as a national emergency in 1933, President Roosevelt ordered the formation of a make work program called the Civilian Conservation Corps. With it, camps were set up in cities and rural areas across the country. Young men up to age 25 could apply for entry to the program, and be paid anywhere from $15 to $45 a month.
The enrollees would then serve as hard laborers, clearing brush, laying out trails and excavating lakes and water conservation areas. When he graduated from high school in 1939, Culik was familiar with the corps, but made a few spare bucks as a caddy at a golf course in Lemont.
Unfortunately, having no car, that was a long walk from Plainfield, which, despite the tips, soon proved not to be worth the trip. He looked around for other jobs and found nothing.
Finally, in 1940, he signed up with the local office of the Civilian Conservation Corps.
"I had to," he said. "There was nothing else to do."
Culik ended up in a camp in the remote deserts of Nevada. When he arrived there, he found nothing but flat, desolate land and sagebrush as far as the eye could see.
The men spent each day rising up from their barracks and heading out into the wasteland to dig retention ponds intended to hold water for agricultural and recreation reasons.
Culik, specifically, had to burrow down in to the soil and excavate pits for the storage of dynamite, which was used in clearing land for the larger reservoirs. The dirt, he said, had so much clay that when he added water, it sort of baked into solid concrete.
"That's what we used for the bunkers," he said.
In 1942, when the program was cancelled because of U.S. entry into World War II, Culik returned home, stronger and wiser because of the experience, he said. Knowing that he would most certainly be drafted shortly thereafter, he and a friend picked a day and went into Chicago to join the Marines. His friend got in, but he didn't.
"I was too tall," he said.
However, Culik was determined to serve, so he marched over to the Navy recruiting office and was instantly accepted.
"If the Marines wouldn't take me, the Navy would," he said.
From there, he was trained as a gunner. He was then directed to England. During this time, two pivotal events would rock his life.
His ship was scheduled to be in the first wave of the invasion at Normandy on June 6, 1944. A day before the assault was to be launched, a wireless telegram was received informing him his mother had died. Culik's commander offered to excuse him from duty, but he declined.
"I wasn't' going to quit now," he said of the moment.
He may have wished he did, though. A ship ahead of his was hit and sunk. His ship continued forward, however, clearing the way for others to follow.
"We swept the corridor between Britain and France," he said.
After having helped lead the way, his ship's next job was to retrieve victims of the invasion.
"We collected the bodies and laid them all along the deck of the ship," he solemnly recalled.
It left an indelible image, he said.
In late 1944, Culik was transferred back home as a prison guard at Navy Pier, and there he stayed until the end of the war.
World War II ended with the use of the atomic bomb against Japan in 1945. Culik was soon to become familiar with the technology.
The atomic reactor which had first achieved controlled nuclear reaction had been disassembled at the University of Chicago and rebuilt on a hilltop near Red Gate Woods east of Lemont. Known as Chicago Pile 2, it was top secret and, with his experience in security, Culik was hired as a guard at the facility.
He concedes that he didn't know exactly what he was protecting, but he knew it was important, so he went by the book.
"They didn't tell us what was going on, and I didn't want to know," he said. "All I knew was that it had something to do with science."
That something became clear after the site was expanded to be Argonne National Laboratory, a gruff naval officer walked up to him and demanded entry. Culik declined, citing the visitor's lack of proper credentials.
Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but in this case, the guest was Hyman Rickover, the founder of the U.S. nuclear submarine program.
Culik stood his ground and refused the admiral to pass until word was handed down by Argonne's director to let him in. Once it was confirmed that the man was Rickover, Culik figured he'd lose his job for initially denying entry.
Instead, the admiral complimented him and within a week, Culik was given a promotion.
"Rickover had told the director that I was the best damn guard in the country," Culik said.
Ellie
June 29, 2007
By David V. Wendell special to the sun
Anthony Culik of Plainfield said "no" to an admiral who was a living legend - and lived to tell about it.
He also survived many other encounters and conditions in his life that give him a rich understanding of American history.
Because of these experiences, Culik was invited to participate recently in a historical forum at the National Trust for Historic Preservation's Gaylord Building in Lockport.
During the two-hour conference, he shared memories of his role in some of history's most defining moments and even revealed a few secrets along the way.
Culik was born in Joliet in 1921, the son of a technician. He said that while this made him fairly comfortable in his early childhood, when the Depression hit in the early 1930s, that all changed.
Culik's father retained his job, but for millions of others, no jobs were available.
Seeing it as a national emergency in 1933, President Roosevelt ordered the formation of a make work program called the Civilian Conservation Corps. With it, camps were set up in cities and rural areas across the country. Young men up to age 25 could apply for entry to the program, and be paid anywhere from $15 to $45 a month.
The enrollees would then serve as hard laborers, clearing brush, laying out trails and excavating lakes and water conservation areas. When he graduated from high school in 1939, Culik was familiar with the corps, but made a few spare bucks as a caddy at a golf course in Lemont.
Unfortunately, having no car, that was a long walk from Plainfield, which, despite the tips, soon proved not to be worth the trip. He looked around for other jobs and found nothing.
Finally, in 1940, he signed up with the local office of the Civilian Conservation Corps.
"I had to," he said. "There was nothing else to do."
Culik ended up in a camp in the remote deserts of Nevada. When he arrived there, he found nothing but flat, desolate land and sagebrush as far as the eye could see.
The men spent each day rising up from their barracks and heading out into the wasteland to dig retention ponds intended to hold water for agricultural and recreation reasons.
Culik, specifically, had to burrow down in to the soil and excavate pits for the storage of dynamite, which was used in clearing land for the larger reservoirs. The dirt, he said, had so much clay that when he added water, it sort of baked into solid concrete.
"That's what we used for the bunkers," he said.
In 1942, when the program was cancelled because of U.S. entry into World War II, Culik returned home, stronger and wiser because of the experience, he said. Knowing that he would most certainly be drafted shortly thereafter, he and a friend picked a day and went into Chicago to join the Marines. His friend got in, but he didn't.
"I was too tall," he said.
However, Culik was determined to serve, so he marched over to the Navy recruiting office and was instantly accepted.
"If the Marines wouldn't take me, the Navy would," he said.
From there, he was trained as a gunner. He was then directed to England. During this time, two pivotal events would rock his life.
His ship was scheduled to be in the first wave of the invasion at Normandy on June 6, 1944. A day before the assault was to be launched, a wireless telegram was received informing him his mother had died. Culik's commander offered to excuse him from duty, but he declined.
"I wasn't' going to quit now," he said of the moment.
He may have wished he did, though. A ship ahead of his was hit and sunk. His ship continued forward, however, clearing the way for others to follow.
"We swept the corridor between Britain and France," he said.
After having helped lead the way, his ship's next job was to retrieve victims of the invasion.
"We collected the bodies and laid them all along the deck of the ship," he solemnly recalled.
It left an indelible image, he said.
In late 1944, Culik was transferred back home as a prison guard at Navy Pier, and there he stayed until the end of the war.
World War II ended with the use of the atomic bomb against Japan in 1945. Culik was soon to become familiar with the technology.
The atomic reactor which had first achieved controlled nuclear reaction had been disassembled at the University of Chicago and rebuilt on a hilltop near Red Gate Woods east of Lemont. Known as Chicago Pile 2, it was top secret and, with his experience in security, Culik was hired as a guard at the facility.
He concedes that he didn't know exactly what he was protecting, but he knew it was important, so he went by the book.
"They didn't tell us what was going on, and I didn't want to know," he said. "All I knew was that it had something to do with science."
That something became clear after the site was expanded to be Argonne National Laboratory, a gruff naval officer walked up to him and demanded entry. Culik declined, citing the visitor's lack of proper credentials.
Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but in this case, the guest was Hyman Rickover, the founder of the U.S. nuclear submarine program.
Culik stood his ground and refused the admiral to pass until word was handed down by Argonne's director to let him in. Once it was confirmed that the man was Rickover, Culik figured he'd lose his job for initially denying entry.
Instead, the admiral complimented him and within a week, Culik was given a promotion.
"Rickover had told the director that I was the best damn guard in the country," Culik said.
Ellie