The Elder Statesman

To grow old is to watch many people die. That in itself is not intended to be morbid, because as poet John Donne so eloquently said, "Death, be not proud, though some have called thee mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so…" Even scripture says in Corinthians, "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?"

People often ask me why I volunteer with the Hospice program at the VA hospital in Roseburg. There is no really easy answer, except to say that when I am there I am among heroes and they teach me not to fear death.

Most of them have walked through the Valley of the Shadow of Death in wartime. Among those heroes I met recently was Wilbur Leroy (Roy) Evans, 81, of Elkton, Ore. — a man I call a friend, but only knew for a few days as a Hospice patient at the Roseburg VA. He died on Valentine’s Day this year after fighting his last battle — cancer.

As I said I knew him only for a few days, but he knew me through the writings in this column going back several years. I learned that from his wife of 43 years, Elaine, as we wept together over his death. She was a faithful visitor while he was in Hospice care.

He was a cowboy and for most of his life, raised registered Black Angus and thoroughbred horses on his Black Diamond Ranch, first in Riverside, Calif. for 48 years and in Elkton since the 1980s. I wish I had known him during his cattle ranching days.

Think of the stories I could have heard from Roy and retold in this column. But what I did learn about him as his life ebbed, is that he was a genuine hero. Roy was a World War II Navy veteran and one of 60 survivors when two Japanese suicide planes dived into the USS Bismarck Sea, an aircraft carrier, that was part of the American armada off Iwo Jima. The first Kamikaze struck the starboard side crashing through the hangar deck and setting fire to the ship on Feb. 21, 1945. The fire was nearly under control when the second plane struck the aft elevator shaft exploding on impact. Shortly after, the order was given to abandon ship. She sank within minutes with a loss of 218 men.

Roy survived that battle and, like so many veterans I have met while working with VA Hospice, felt guilty about surviving when so many shipmates died. The remarkable thing I found about him, even though he was suffering greatly in the last stages of cancer, he would always say "thank you" for the most minor service offered to him.

Roy was born Jan. 16, 1926 in Blue Hill, Neb. to Walter A. Evans III, a U.S. Marshall and Martha Dora (Thompson) Evans. He grew up as a farm boy and at the outbreak of World War II enlisted in the Navy.

Eventually, he was assigned to duty aboard the USS Bismarck Sea (CVE-95) a ship launched on April 17, 1944 at Vancouver, Wash. During July and August 1944 the Bismarck Sea escorted convoys between San Diego, Calif. and the Marshall Islands and later joined the 7th Fleet participating off Leyte and taking part in the Lingayen Gulf landings. On Feb. 16, 1945 the ship arrived off Iwo Jima to support the invasion of the island stronghold that began Feb. 9.

Some of the most fierce battles of World War II were fought for Iwo Jima, a volcanic island that was the first Japanese homeland island under attack. Iwo Jima was strategically important to the United States because the capture would provide a staging area for the eventual invasion of the Japanese mainland.

Anyone even remotely connected with that battle is a hero in my mind and Roy Evans was one of those heroes in life and in death. He is buried at Eagle Point National Cemetery in Eagle Point, Ore.

"O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?"

(Bill Duncan can be reached by writing to P.O. Box 812, Roseburg, OR 97470)