thedrifter
03-02-08, 07:56 AM
Keeble was courageous yet humble man
By Merry Helm
The Forum - 03/02/2008
EDITOR’S NOTE: Woodrow Wilson Keeble was twice recommended for the Medal of Honor for actions in North Korea. Both recommendations were lost. He instead received a Distinguished Service Cross, the nation’s second-highest award for valor. His cross will be upgraded to the Medal of Honor in a White House ceremony Monday. His new citation has not yet been released.
Anybody who fought beside Woodrow Wilson Keeble will tell you he was not a glory-seeking man. Yet President Bush will posthumously award him our nation’s highest honor in a special White House ceremony Monday.
Keeble was born in Waubay, S.D., in 1917, a product of both the Dakotas and the Great Depression. Born to Isaac and Nancy Keeble, full-blood Dakota Oyate (Sioux), he inherited his father’s massive frame, recalling proudly that Isaac had a 22-inch neck.
“Woody” was a young child when his father and siblings moved with Nancy, who found work at the Wahpeton (N.D.) Indian Boarding School. But Nancy died prematurely, when Woody was only 9 years old. Isaac, an impoverished farmer, permanently enrolled his children in the school so they would get three square meals a day.
Life at the boarding school was disciplined, providing Keeble with a near-military upbringing. After completing eighth grade, he stayed on at the school to work as a manual laborer.
Keeble was a superior athlete, and his lightning-fast pitching arm caught the attention of the Chicago White Sox – until World War II intervened.
Keeble was with the North Dakota National Guard’s 164th Infantry when, in October 1942, the unit was attached to the 1st Marines on Guadalcanal.
The North Dakotans were rugged, and they were good shots. Woody stood out for his accuracy with his Browning automatic rifle, and he drew a lot of enemy fire.
Les Aldrich of Breckenridge, Minn., was Keeble’s squad leader.
He recalls that when Keeble’s ammunition bearer was killed, Keeble took it hard. After that, Keeble carried both the gun and ammo by himself, refusing to endanger another ammunition carrier.
After the war, Keeble married Nettie Owen Robertson. They met at the boarding school, where Nettie worked as a laundress, and Woody was again employed.
After war flared up in Korea in 1950, the 164th was mobilized to Camp Rucker, Ala. Retired Army Gen. E. Duane Holly, originally of Wahpeton, was Keeble’s superior officer. He was ordered to select several sergeants for deployment to Korea and had the men draw straws.
Keeble intervened, choosing a short straw. When asked by friend Simon Cofrancesco why he chose to go to the front lines, Keeble said, “Somebody has to teach these kids how to fight.”
Keeble’s fellow soldiers in Korea vividly remember him for his size, his leadership skills and his fearlessness.
Keeble’s 24th Division was deployed in steep mountainous terrain near Kumsong, North Korea, during Operation Nomad-Polar. The hills were covered with slippery rubble and jagged stumps created by constant shelling and airstrikes.
Climbing these mountains was rough and dangerous because the enemy was dug in above them. One of Keeble’s tactics included sending his men up one side of a ridgeline while he took the other side. Using his uncanny skill of “invisibility,” he would flank the enemy as a sniper.
David Derry of Bradford, Tenn., explains, “The platoon would draw the enemy’s fire, and they knew they were getting shot at, but they didn’t get hurt all that bad. But in the meantime, (Keeble) would do so much damage. I got so much respect for that guy.”
Three days after jumping off in Operation Nomad, Keeble’s “George” Company was trying to take “Objective F,” a formidable hill with deeply entrenched enemy defenders.
They had suffered many casualties and, by Oct. 18, all company officers had either been killed or wounded. That meant Keeble took command of not only his 1st Platoon, but also the entire company that day.
“Nobody wanted to follow him anymore because everybody was getting beat up pretty bad and killed,” says Dwight Silverthorn of Mesa, Ariz. “And he said, ‘If I go up by myself, will you follow me?’ And they thought, ‘Maybe he’ll get killed, and I won’t have to go up.’ I’m sure that’s what they were thinking, you know.”
Keeble did go up, accompanied by a volunteer who later said they rained havoc on the Chinese until the Chinese moved out of their foxholes. Keeble would then rest until he could hear them digging in farther up, then he would attack again.
In this way, he slowly pushed the enemy up the hill and got his men to join him.
“He had I don’t know how many wounds,” Silverthorn says. “I don’t know how a human man could’ve done it. The only reason he went up there was to get people to follow him.”
For this action, Keeble received a Silver Star – third-highest award for valor. In part, his citation reads, “Advancing well ahead of the other men, he fired an enemy automatic weapon from the hip until it ran out of ammunition, and then continued to deliver marching fire with his own rifle. The platoon, inspired by his fearlessness, quickly overran the objective and forced the enemy to flee in wild disorder …”
The hill was taken sometime after dark. Dale Dicke of Defiance, Ohio, and Mario Iezzoni of Summit Hill, Pa., recall finding Keeble wandering back into camp the following day. He was dazed and covered in blood, but requesting more men.
Keeble refused to go to the aid station until they forced him. Dicke says Keeble was completely covered with “splintery holes like buckshot,” and Iezzoni reports 83 pieces of shrapnel were removed from Keeble’s body that day.
Having also been wounded on the 15th, Keeble was suffering from two bullet wounds in his left arm, a glancing wound to his ear that left a bullet hole in his helmet, and a hit in the face that nearly took off his nose.
They didn’t wake him up until the following day. Despite a medic’s protest, Keeble ordered Dicke to drive him up to his men, who were now on Hill 675-770 – he was about to save George Company a second time.
After his return from Korea, Woody and Nettie had their first and only child, a son named Earl.
Soon after, Keeble was hospitalized for two years with tuberculosis. Surgeons removed one of Keeble’s lungs, triggering a stroke that left him partially paralyzed and unable to speak for the rest of his life.
In May 1960, Keeble was released and became housebound. Nettie developed cancer and died the following year, leaving Keeble a single father.
Keeble somehow survived. Several years later, he met schoolteacher Blossom Iris Hawkins, a widowed mother of two, and they were married in 1967.
Blossom was the first Sioux woman to complete a doctorate program, including dissertation.
Keeble died in 1982. His son, Earl, died in 1986, and Blossom Hawkins-Keeble died in June 2007.
Helm, a Fargo screenwriter, is working on a film documentary about Keeble.
Ellie
By Merry Helm
The Forum - 03/02/2008
EDITOR’S NOTE: Woodrow Wilson Keeble was twice recommended for the Medal of Honor for actions in North Korea. Both recommendations were lost. He instead received a Distinguished Service Cross, the nation’s second-highest award for valor. His cross will be upgraded to the Medal of Honor in a White House ceremony Monday. His new citation has not yet been released.
Anybody who fought beside Woodrow Wilson Keeble will tell you he was not a glory-seeking man. Yet President Bush will posthumously award him our nation’s highest honor in a special White House ceremony Monday.
Keeble was born in Waubay, S.D., in 1917, a product of both the Dakotas and the Great Depression. Born to Isaac and Nancy Keeble, full-blood Dakota Oyate (Sioux), he inherited his father’s massive frame, recalling proudly that Isaac had a 22-inch neck.
“Woody” was a young child when his father and siblings moved with Nancy, who found work at the Wahpeton (N.D.) Indian Boarding School. But Nancy died prematurely, when Woody was only 9 years old. Isaac, an impoverished farmer, permanently enrolled his children in the school so they would get three square meals a day.
Life at the boarding school was disciplined, providing Keeble with a near-military upbringing. After completing eighth grade, he stayed on at the school to work as a manual laborer.
Keeble was a superior athlete, and his lightning-fast pitching arm caught the attention of the Chicago White Sox – until World War II intervened.
Keeble was with the North Dakota National Guard’s 164th Infantry when, in October 1942, the unit was attached to the 1st Marines on Guadalcanal.
The North Dakotans were rugged, and they were good shots. Woody stood out for his accuracy with his Browning automatic rifle, and he drew a lot of enemy fire.
Les Aldrich of Breckenridge, Minn., was Keeble’s squad leader.
He recalls that when Keeble’s ammunition bearer was killed, Keeble took it hard. After that, Keeble carried both the gun and ammo by himself, refusing to endanger another ammunition carrier.
After the war, Keeble married Nettie Owen Robertson. They met at the boarding school, where Nettie worked as a laundress, and Woody was again employed.
After war flared up in Korea in 1950, the 164th was mobilized to Camp Rucker, Ala. Retired Army Gen. E. Duane Holly, originally of Wahpeton, was Keeble’s superior officer. He was ordered to select several sergeants for deployment to Korea and had the men draw straws.
Keeble intervened, choosing a short straw. When asked by friend Simon Cofrancesco why he chose to go to the front lines, Keeble said, “Somebody has to teach these kids how to fight.”
Keeble’s fellow soldiers in Korea vividly remember him for his size, his leadership skills and his fearlessness.
Keeble’s 24th Division was deployed in steep mountainous terrain near Kumsong, North Korea, during Operation Nomad-Polar. The hills were covered with slippery rubble and jagged stumps created by constant shelling and airstrikes.
Climbing these mountains was rough and dangerous because the enemy was dug in above them. One of Keeble’s tactics included sending his men up one side of a ridgeline while he took the other side. Using his uncanny skill of “invisibility,” he would flank the enemy as a sniper.
David Derry of Bradford, Tenn., explains, “The platoon would draw the enemy’s fire, and they knew they were getting shot at, but they didn’t get hurt all that bad. But in the meantime, (Keeble) would do so much damage. I got so much respect for that guy.”
Three days after jumping off in Operation Nomad, Keeble’s “George” Company was trying to take “Objective F,” a formidable hill with deeply entrenched enemy defenders.
They had suffered many casualties and, by Oct. 18, all company officers had either been killed or wounded. That meant Keeble took command of not only his 1st Platoon, but also the entire company that day.
“Nobody wanted to follow him anymore because everybody was getting beat up pretty bad and killed,” says Dwight Silverthorn of Mesa, Ariz. “And he said, ‘If I go up by myself, will you follow me?’ And they thought, ‘Maybe he’ll get killed, and I won’t have to go up.’ I’m sure that’s what they were thinking, you know.”
Keeble did go up, accompanied by a volunteer who later said they rained havoc on the Chinese until the Chinese moved out of their foxholes. Keeble would then rest until he could hear them digging in farther up, then he would attack again.
In this way, he slowly pushed the enemy up the hill and got his men to join him.
“He had I don’t know how many wounds,” Silverthorn says. “I don’t know how a human man could’ve done it. The only reason he went up there was to get people to follow him.”
For this action, Keeble received a Silver Star – third-highest award for valor. In part, his citation reads, “Advancing well ahead of the other men, he fired an enemy automatic weapon from the hip until it ran out of ammunition, and then continued to deliver marching fire with his own rifle. The platoon, inspired by his fearlessness, quickly overran the objective and forced the enemy to flee in wild disorder …”
The hill was taken sometime after dark. Dale Dicke of Defiance, Ohio, and Mario Iezzoni of Summit Hill, Pa., recall finding Keeble wandering back into camp the following day. He was dazed and covered in blood, but requesting more men.
Keeble refused to go to the aid station until they forced him. Dicke says Keeble was completely covered with “splintery holes like buckshot,” and Iezzoni reports 83 pieces of shrapnel were removed from Keeble’s body that day.
Having also been wounded on the 15th, Keeble was suffering from two bullet wounds in his left arm, a glancing wound to his ear that left a bullet hole in his helmet, and a hit in the face that nearly took off his nose.
They didn’t wake him up until the following day. Despite a medic’s protest, Keeble ordered Dicke to drive him up to his men, who were now on Hill 675-770 – he was about to save George Company a second time.
After his return from Korea, Woody and Nettie had their first and only child, a son named Earl.
Soon after, Keeble was hospitalized for two years with tuberculosis. Surgeons removed one of Keeble’s lungs, triggering a stroke that left him partially paralyzed and unable to speak for the rest of his life.
In May 1960, Keeble was released and became housebound. Nettie developed cancer and died the following year, leaving Keeble a single father.
Keeble somehow survived. Several years later, he met schoolteacher Blossom Iris Hawkins, a widowed mother of two, and they were married in 1967.
Blossom was the first Sioux woman to complete a doctorate program, including dissertation.
Keeble died in 1982. His son, Earl, died in 1986, and Blossom Hawkins-Keeble died in June 2007.
Helm, a Fargo screenwriter, is working on a film documentary about Keeble.
Ellie