08-07-26

Kansas Snapshots by Gloria Freeland - August 7, 2026

Good from bad

As time permits, husband Art and I have been assembling brief biographies on the almost 350 Riley County men who lost their lives during World War II.

Joining the Navy from dry Kansas was an adventure for Waterville native Frank Stevenson. Unfortunately, he was on the U.S.S. Arizona in Pearl Harbor in December 1941. For him, WWII lasted less than 10 minutes. In Belgium, Lt. Wilbur Fred Jones' unit suffered heavy losses, including him. His angry comrades later killed all of the Germans who had surrendered. A bored B-17 crew on a training flight decided to "buzz" copilot Lawrence Eslinger's hometown in southwestern Kansas. That terminated their war. Their flight ended in a fireball after flying too low.

But among such poignant tales, there are occasionally those with an uplifting aspect. Richard Hamilton of Washington, Kansas had a Japanese pen pal before the war. Hamilton's bomber crashed and he was buried in Japan. After the war, pen pal Heihachiro Suzuki visited Hamilton's grave and wrote to his family. A national radio program shared this story and it led to an explosion of interest in youngsters becoming pen pals.

We've had a few personal uplifting WWII-related experiences of our own. Our German friend Bärbel spoke of being a 7-year-old refugee outside of Vienna. She picked wild flowers and gave them to GIs who "paid" for them with chocolate bars. Our friend Karl took classes while a Prisoner of War at Camp Concordia, Kansas. Those classes prompted him to become a doctor, which led to meeting future-wife Renate, a nurse at the hospital where he was working. Reflecting on his life, he said, "You might say that becoming a POW was the best thing that ever happened to me."

Recently, we came across another story with a happy ending.

One of those Riley-County boys was a soldier in the 337th Infantry Regiment. Combined with the 338th and 339th regiments, they formed the 85th Infantry Division, the unit Kansas Senator Bob Dole would later be a part of. The 85th was initially tasked in mid-1944 with splitting Italy's Axis forces into two pieces across the country's mid-section.

The summer was fairly quiet, but in September, the fighting in the central mountains south of Bologna turned into a slow bloody grind. The topography mixed with rain meant the heavy artillery and tanks were frequently bogged down. While the Army Air Force pitched in, most of the hard work fell to the foot soldier.

Left: location of Bologna and Florence. Right: Allied
forces August 1944: solid red line. Forces at year's end:
dashed line. Blue dot is where incident took place

The process was mind-numbingly methodical. Reconnaissance led to attacks, followed by mopping-up. Then it was repeat in another place. Mopping-up did provide a measure of rest, but tension remained. Enemy stragglers or die-hards could instantly turn tedium to terror.

Typically, two soldiers worked as a pair in these efforts. One took the lead, while the other had his back. After the 339th took the village of Monterenzio, 15 miles south of Bologna, GIs Martin Armand Adler and friend John "Bronk" Peter Bronsky formed one of those teams, moving door-to-door in the town of 4,000.

When the pair looked into what they thought was an empty house and noted a slight movement of a huge wicker basket, they thought they had encountered a hiding German. But for some reason, Adler hesitated to fire his automatic rifle - a seemingly unwise decision.

Then, a woman burst into the room and ran to him, placing her belly against Adler's gun barrel. "Bambini!" she shouted - "Children."

Girls Mafalda and Giuliana and boy Bruno slowly emerged from the basket.

It's hard to say who was more relieved.

When nerves had settled, Adler pulled out his camera and asked to have his picture taken with the children. Their mother agreed, with one request - that she have time to dress them in their best clothes.

Adler with Bruno, Guiliana and Mafalda Naldi

And so, what could easily have been one more tragic incident was instead a rare moment of happiness for all.

After the war, Adler returned home to the Bronx with his souvenir photograph of that fleeting moment. He would occasionally share it and the related tale with others.

When Covid struck in 2020, Adler was 96, nearing the end of his long life. He was somewhat depressed by the social restrictions the pandemic had prompted. The photo and memories of the incident 76 years before had always brought him happiness. That led to asking his daughter Rachelle to see what became of those children. She had no idea where to start, as her dad hadn't bothered to even note the name of the town.

But people who saw her post on social media liked it. Eventually, Italian journalist Matteo Incerti saw it. His efforts led to the place being identified, and then the family as well. Against the odds, all three of the children were still alive, into their 80s, with children and grandchildren of their own, much like Adler.

A meeting facilitated by the internet followed and, once restrictions were eased, Adler and some of his family flew to Bologna. "His" kids met him at the airport.

Adler died in 2023 at the age of 99. His had been a long and productive life. He had stayed in the military reserve and retired as a captain. According to his obituary, after receiving his master's in social work, he worked for the Veterans Administration and had a successful private practice. For 17 years, he was president of The Helen Keller National Center for Deaf-Blind Youths and Adults. He had testified several times before Congress regarding resources for the disabled.

After the war, Adler would suffer from PTSD for the remainder of his life. But that reunion with "his bambini?" Well, he declared it as the best day of that long life!