Tuesday, July 04, 2000
Doughboy one of few remaining
Elmer Huber went to war back in 1918
By Reid Forgrave
The Cincinnati Enquirer
WWI vet Elmer Huber, 102, isn't shy about his patriotism.
(Glenn Hartong photo)
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Two years ago, the French ambassador visited Ohio to pin a French Legion of Honor medal on Elmer Huber and two other World War I veterans.
Mr. Huber, of Springdale, saluted the ambassador, but the others — whose ages also had passed the century mark — slept through the ceremony.
Mr. Huber is a rare breed, a member of the nation's oldest living group of veterans. The last Spanish-American War veteran died in 1992, and the last Civil War veteran died in 1956, according to Department of Veteran's Affairs' records.
“World War I vets are fading very, very quickly,” said David Selak, an administrator in the VA's Ohio office. Maybe 1,000 are left in the nation — a dozen in Ohio.
Survivor of an age when patriotism was unabashed and July 4 signaled something personal rather than an excuse to set off fireworks, Mr. Huber is not shy about his national pride. He even sang the entire “Star-Spangled Banner” when asked about the Stars and Stripes.
Not a great voice, but all of the heart the 102-year-old former doughboy could muster.
“102 and a good hafffff,” Mr. Huber corrects in his raspy voice.
After a beat, Mr. Huber corrects himself: “102 and three-quarters” with his September birthday approaching.
Mr. Huber celebrated his 21st birthday in 1918 on a troop ship in the Atlantic Ocean on his way to war.
He did not serve in the front lines. He drew plans for and helped construct a base hospital in France.
Mr. Huber's daughters both married men who served in World War II. His sons-in-law have both died.
To put the age 102 into perspective, Mr. Huber was born two years after baseball legend Babe Ruth, who died in 1948. He has lived through more than a half-dozen U.S. wars and conflicts. When he was a young man, gasoline cost about 18 cents a gallon. wars
His handshake is firm, but age has taken its toll.
Mr. Huber uses a walker but spends most of his time in a wheelchair. His eyebrows are thinning to invisibility. Blue-gray eyes are sunken, surrounded by surprisingly few wrinkles. Thick eyeglasses make his eyes seem to be swimming in a fishbowl.
On Father's Day, he lost one of his hearing aids. It's still missing.
But maybe the joke is on the interviewer; a sign hangs over Mr. Huber's kitchen table at Maple Knoll Village: “I'm not hard of hearing. I'm ignoring you.”
The war stories that Mr. Huber has from his six-month stint in France he usually keeps to himself. The only fellow veterans he sees are from the Second World War, he says.
His days at Maple Knoll Village, a Springdale retirement community where he has lived independently for 17 years, are quiet. Daughters Ethel Harper and Edna Butz quell the boredom by playing cards with him three or four times a week. Mr. Huber, with almost a dozen card decks scattered throughout his apartment, lists his favorite games as up/down, 500 and euchre.
Every Monday, a 100-year-old resident of Maple Knoll leads a Bible study that Mr. Huber attends religiously. He can recite entire chapters from Proverbs, Psalms and other books. When he needs the Word in print, he whips out a large-type Bible and dons magnifying glasses.
He jokes that he loves reading the Bible “because I was so mean when I was a kid,” and his hearty, nostalgic laugh trails off, thinking of that distant past.
In the days of flashy athletes, he prefers baseball, though he says today's players need to work more for the team than themselves. His only piece of advice to youth is to attend Sunday school. He believes in loyalty, hard work and family.
Ever the patriot, Mr. Huber loves all the big-band music that comes with July 4.
“He really thinks a great deal of this country and the war veterans,” his daughter Ethel said, adding that he doesn't take his freedom for granted.
A black-and-white picture of his wife from their 25th wedding anniversary sits next to a color photograph taken on their golden anniversary. He was married to Elizabeth, who died in 1981, for 61 years.
“She was my only sweetheart and only wife,” he says, having met her while he was in the Army. He was leaving the mess hall with a pocketful of cookies, saw Elizabeth and offered her one: “Only one. You talk about greedy, that's it.”
At the retirement village, “Yeah, I got a lot of girlfriends around here. They're all women around here,” he says, lamenting the lack of male companionship at Maple Knoll. “No one wants to play baseball.”
Then, “Well, I guess I can't really throw a ball anymore, anyway.” And he chuckles.
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