Norman Gehrman, January 1944, England
As told to: Jodi L. Severson March, 2003
He was born Norman Harry Gehrman on September 25, 1921 in the rural farm community of Turtle Lake, Wisconsin. Or so he thought. It wasn’t until he was ready to retire and went to the local Social Security Office to apply for benefits that he learned the truth.
“The only record of my birth was a card filled out by old Doc Tanner,” Gehrman explained. “You see, since all us kids were born at home, Doc just filled out one of these here cards. But you couldn’t always read his writing. When I retired and went to get my benefits, it took them (the Social Security Administration) three tries to get the amount figured right. It wasn’t until the third man turned the card over and saw the stamp from the post office on the back and it said, 1920! So my real birthday is September 25, 1920. I was sorta mad at first. Hell, I lost a whole year of fishin’ just ‘cause no one could read old Doc Tanner’s writin’! But you know something? If it weren’t for that mistake, I probably wouldn’t be here today.”
The third of eleven children born to Albert and Minnie (Bents) Gehrman, Norman was nick-named “Tuff-boy” by his father. This eventually was shortened to “Tuff,” the name his friends and family refer to him to this day. “Dad gave all us kids nicknames,” explained Tuff. “Why most of the aunts and uncles never knew our given names, and that’s a fact! My older brother, Al, Jr. was always “Wootz.” Don’t know what that name means, but that’s what folks called him—Wootz. And I had another brother, Edgar but we all called him “Bud.” The remaining Gehrman children included: Ivan “Teen,” Bertha “Tootse,” Milton “Hank,” June “Bunch,” Lyle “Chub,” Betty “Nooks,” Jane “Punk,” and Donald, “Scott.”
Altogether, there were seven boys and four girls in Tuff’s family. “The good thing about that was that our neighbors, the Cramers, they had seven girls and four boys. So it all evened out! We all got along real good, then one day, they up and moved. And there we were with no car and no means to go fetch ‘em back!”
Several years ago, when Tuff lived in New Richmond, Wisconsin, he found one of the Cramer girls living in nearby Star Prairie. “I called her up and we had a real nice time talkin’ over old times and such. She was all by herself. Her husband had been killed in the war (WWII)—in the army. Her parents didn’t live too far away from her and I visited by their place from time to time. It was good talkin’ over all the old times we had together on the farms.”
THE HOMESTEAD
Tuff, his ten brothers and sisters, and their parents lived together in a two story white farm house located on 40 acres in Turtle Lake, Wisconsin. “There were two bedrooms upstairs and one bedroom downstairs. And in the kitchen there was a big old wood stove. We clear cut all the land ourselves, too,” Tuff recalls with pride. “And we did it all by hand. We cut down the trees, and they were pretty big let me tell you! We’d tie big ropes round the bottoms and use the teams to pull the stumps out. But we got them down, by God.”
Working together to get the job done was the norm amongst farmers. “We all helped out on the farm. No one asked us—you were just told, and that’s what you did to survive. Everybody has a job to do on the farm,” explained Tuff. “As soon as you was old enough to feed yourself, you had a job to do . . . whether it was haulin’ water from the pump out back or choppin’ wood or haulin’ wood into the house to keep the stove goin’. . . everyone had a job. Each Sunday night we had to haul in water to fill the big wash tubs so mom could do the laundry on Monday —yep, everyone had a job to do. But it was good, you know? Not like it is today. Back then, people helped each other. Like when it was time for silo fillin’, we all went round to each farm and helped each other till everybody’s was done.”
Tuff recalled there being about seven or eight farm families living nearby that helped each other in this way. “If one family needed a barn raised or a field cleared, we all pitched in and helped till the job was done. When I was 13 or 14 my job was to drive the team during the harvest. I would drive the wagon through everyone’s field and help load till the job was done.”
This practice of helping their neighbors was also extended to the local business owners. “In the winter months, my brothers and me would help Jim Gaffenic load his warehouse with ice. We’d go out on the lake and chop off blocks of ice and haul them into his warehouse for him to sell all summer long. We never had a fridge like they have today—we just had an ice box to keep some things chilled. But ‘cause we helped Jim in the winter, he never charged us for ice. Anytime we needed it, we just went and got it.”
In addition to being a farmer, Tuff notes that his father was also a brick layer. “Dad, my uncle, and Granddad were all brick layers. They built silos mainly. In the summer, my brothers and me helped mix mud for the cement.” When asked how much they got paid for their work Tuff replied with a hearty laugh, “Hell, we never got a penny! Why we were lucky if we got a lunch bucket.” Tuff’s father also was a night watchman at Lakeside Packing Company in Turtle Lake, WI.
SACRIFICES
There was a lot of hard work to do on the farm, and not a lot of money in return. So for a family the size of Tuff’s to survive, sacrifices had to be made. Education was one of those sacrifices. “I went as far as the eighth grade,” Tuff stated, “but there just wasn’t enough money for me to go no further. My sister and a brother each tried to get through high school, but after a year or so, they couldn’t do it—no money. We worked all summer picking green beans and cucumbers that we grew on the farm for the bean and pickle factory in Turtle Lake. I think we got anywhere from three to six cents a pound for the beans we sold and about three and a half to four cents a pound for the pickles. The money we made there went to buy us each a new pair of overalls and sneakers for school. In them days you could buy a pair of sneakers for about $1.98 and a new pair of overalls cost you $1.50. Mom made all our shirts, and knit all our stockings and mittens out of wool. I still have a pair of socks she made for me. And she made all our coats out of sheepskin. They were really warm and much appreciated come wintertime.”
HAPPIER TIMES ON THE FARM
Despite the hard work and difficult times, there was fun to be had growing up on the farm. “The lake was about a three mile hike away and we’d go there swimming in the summer and ice skating in the winter. We had a lot of fun.” On weekends, Tuff recalls the neighbors getting together for dances at each other’s homes. “Everyone made “home brew” (root beer) for the kids to drink and the ladies would make the food: pies, cakes, potato salad and of course, turtle. “Fried, barbequed, or in soup, any way you fix it, turtle tastes just like chicken,” Tuff quipped. Naturally, turtle were quite plentiful in Turtle Lake, WI. Live music was provided by neighbors who played the violin, guitar, and accordion. “It was great fun,” Tuff recalled with a smile, “and then the next week we’d do it all again at someone else’s place.”
Holidays were another special memory for Tuff. “We didn’t get presents as such on Christmas. Mom would get some candy for each of us through the church, and then she’d make us mittens or warm socks or some such thing. She’d take the sheepskin from our worn out coats and make moccasins for us, too.”
Birthdays were special events as well. “Mom made sure we always had birthday cake. And sometimes we’d make our own ice cream. We’d get ice from town, put it in the machine and add cream and sugar and eggs and then we’d crank away. We put salt on the ice because that made it colder so it worked faster . . . but I still remember turnin’ and turnin’ that crank till I thought my arm would fall off! But it was worth it. That was some damn good ice cream—there’s nothin’ like homemade—and I never had none so good since!”
TRANSPORTATION
“Our first car was a Model-T Ford. There was a place to sit up front and we made a box on the back to haul our things in. You had to crank it to get it started, and let me tell you those bastards were tough to crank! A lot of good men broke their arms on those damn things!” Tuff notes that he drove the family’s Ford for years before he actually got a license when he was 16 years old. “At that time, all you had to do was go down to town, fill out a form, pay a buck fifty ($1.50) and you got a license—no written test, no road test, no nothin’!” And he still drives to this day.
FROM THE CCC TO WWII
In 1935, when he was about 15 years old, Tuff left home. “It was time. I was old enough to work and earn my own way.” He recalls working for several farmers in neighboring towns for room and board, or small wages. “I worked for W.S. Davidson on his farm north of Turtle Lake, then Fred Pabst on his farm east of Clayton for a little over two years. Then I went to John Laconic’s farm in Winter, WI. When I worked for Herman Kozer we built cement silos in the summer and I made about $25 a month plus room and board. In the winter I helped on the farm and earned $15 a month. That’s all he could afford.”
With President Roosevelt’s New Deal plan in effect to help lift the nation out of the Depression, Tuff and two of his brothers eventually went to work for the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps). This was one of Roosevelt’s pet projects, and one of his most successful. “For about 2 ½ years I drove truck for the telephone company while I was in the CCC. We installed new lines all throughout northwest Wisconsin.” During this time, Tuff lived in the tent communities set up by the CCC. He worked hard, was well fed, and was able to help his family financially with his monthly allotment checks.
“After that, Uncle Sam took care of me for the next 38 months.” The United States entered WWII following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on December, 7, 1941. Tuff was drafted into the army on September 9, 1942. After eight months of basic training at Fort Lewis, McCord Field in Washington state, he was eventually stationed in England. He was a foot soldier and spent a year building airports. As a member of the 843rd Aviation Engineering Battalion he took part in the Omaha Beachhead landing at Normandy, France, two days after the D-Day invasion on June 6, 1944. “That was a hell of an experience,” Tuff recalled, his voice quieter now, less animated. And the spark in his eyes that was there a moment earlier suddenly began to fade as he remembered the horrifying experience. “It was about 2:00 a.m. on June 8th (1944) when we hit Omaha Beach. We were all scared, I think, but we really didn’t have time to be scared, you know? We laid on that beach for four days as we made our way across. We lost half of our company during the first two days. That’s about 200 men,” he explained as his voice trails off. “Yeah, we lost a lot of men—a lot of good men—damn good men.”
As tracer bullets screamed across the sky overhead Tuff, and what was left of his company, dug in. “I learned to dig a fox hole quicker than any gopher could dig his own! You had to. You did whatever to survive. I’ll tell you what, the sky was lit up like fireworks on the fourth of July, but it was nothin’ like I had ever seen back home. Bullets were flyin’ and exploding all over the place. The airborne units were dropping Banger rockets full of burning sulfur that lit up the whole beach. Yeah, it was like nothin’ I’d ever saw before—or ever wish to see again. I was just damn lucky to survive it all.
Remember when I told you if it weren’t for old Doc Tanner’s bad handwriting on my birth certificate, I don’t think I’d be here today? Well, I do believe that. If the army thought I was born in 1920, I would a got drafted a lot sooner, and I would likely been in one of the first waves on D-Day, and I doubt I would have made it out alive. So I guess it’s not so bad I lost a whole year of fishin’ when I think about it!”
After France was liberated, Tuff spent the next two years in England. “I never saw a cot or sheets the whole time I was over there. I was never so glad to get home to a bed—even to eat a meal and be able to put your feet under a table.” Tuff remembered the French people being “as grateful as they could be,” once the Allies liberated their country from Germany. “But let me tell you, some of those French kids were thieves. One day I was taking a shave. I had put some water in my helmet and then I set it on the hood of the jeep to get warm. Anyway, I took off my watch and laid it on the bumper of the jeep, and one of those damn kids ran up and stole it right off the bumper! Never did get my watch back.” The French people were starving after the German occupation, “he probably sold it to buy food,” Tuff reasoned, “but it was damn good watch!”
For his bravery and service to the United States during WWI, Tuff was awarded the Good Conduct Medal. Although he sustained a shrapnel wound to the knee during the war, he never received a medal for being wounded in the line of duty. “Hell, you had to be killed I guess to get a medal like that.” Then Tuff added with a laugh, “I’m grateful that wasn’t the case for me.” In January 2003, Tuff received a framed Certificate of Appreciation from the French Government who bestowed this honor to WWII vets for their role in the liberation of France. Tuff proudly displays this certificate on his living room wall.
“Medals are nice and all, but they don’t put food on my table now.” And they don’t replace the good men, my friends, that were lost during battle.
As he recounted his own service to our Nation, Tuff was sitting in his living room in his home in Spooner, Wisconsin. It was a warm, sunny, Sunday afternoon in mid- March, 2003 and most of the town, along with some Wisconsin State government officials, had gathered at the local high school located across the street from Tuff’s home for a farewell send off for the local National Guard Unit that had been activated for the first time in 40 years in response to the conflict in Iraq. As Tuff gazed out his front room window, he motioned toward the high school and said quietly, “I hate to think of these young people today going off to a war. The grief I know they and their families will suffer. They have no idea what war is like,” his speech much slower and deliberate now as he remembered the horrors he witnessed in Normandy some 59 years earlier. “But I do. And I don’t wish that on nobody’s kids. Nope you couldn’t get me to go back to that—not ever.”
“TOOTSE”
Three weeks before he left Turtle Lake to enter basic training, Tuff attended a going away party for him and several of his friends. One of his best friends was Harold Severson. Harold’s younger sister, Viola “Tootse” Severson, came to the party and left in love with the 22-year old Tuff. “No, I didn’t give her the nickname—she had that when we met,” Tuff explained with a laugh. “We hardly knew each other before I left for the Army, but she wrote me every week, and I answered every letter.”
On June 27, 1946 25 year-old Norman married 22 year-old Viola in the Lutheran church in Almena, Wisconsin. The Reverend Otto Braem officiated the ceremony with Harold as the best-man and June Gehrman, Tuff’s sister, as the maid of honor. “I used to kid Tootse about keeping all my letters after the war. She got mad at me one day and threw them all out!”
During their nearly 44 years of marriage the couple resided in various cities in Northwest Wisconsin including: Turtle Lake, Comstock, New Richmond, Matthew Lake, and finally settling in Spooner. The couple moved mainly as Tuff changed jobs. He worked as a lumberman, drove a milk truck, was a factory worker at the Stella Cheese Factory for ten years, and eventually went to work for Healy Mechanical, a Minnesota based company where he installed new sewer lines, water mains and storm sewers as a contract estimator until he retired in the late 1980’s.
Between the ages of 25 and 30 (1946-51) Tuff engaged in his other favorite pass time—baseball. He and his best friend, Harold Severson, played for the local Comstock city league. “I loved to play baseball, and I still enjoy watching it to this day. I remember going down to the gas station in Turtle Lake and watchin’ the games on their T.V. before I had one of my own. I also remember this little kid named Beecroft who lived east of Comstock at the time. He used to watch us play, and one Sunday he came round the house and I could tell he didn’t have much. I gave him an old glove and ball I had and you should have seen that kid’s eyes light up as he put on the glove and ran his hand all over it. Oh and his feet! Nine years old and the kid had feet like a duck! I gave him an old pair of my baseball shoes, and do you believe they fit him? Nine years old and feet as big as a duck! He was sure appreciative and I was glad to do it,” Tuff recalled with a smile, his own eyes lit up now.
But this was not to be the last time Tuff came to the aid of a youngster. “One fourth of July we drove over to Rice Lake to watch the fireworks. Tootse and me were sitting on the grass near the bank of the lake, and I saw these two young boys playing awfully close to the edge. Their parents were talking and not payin’ much attention to the little ones, and no sooner did I say this to Tootse than one of them kids fell in the lake. His mom heard the splash and his dad jumped in grabbed him just in time, and I looked around for the other little boy. I caught sight of the top of his head just under the surface of the water floatin’ down in the other direction.” Without hesitation, Tuff jumped in the lake and snatched the other young child from beneath the surface, just seconds before he would have disappeared under the current and an almost certain death. When asked what it felt like to be a hero, Tuff replied modestly, “Well, I don’t know about all that. I just did what anyone else would have done.” I remarked that God must have had it in his plan to bring him home safe from the war so he could return this child safely to his family. “Well, whatever His plan was, I’m just grateful to be here.”
Tuff and Tootse’s union produced one son and two grandchildren. He lost his beloved Tootse, in April, 1990 following a brief illness. But he is still one of the most active 81 (I mean 82) year-olds you’d ever want to meet. He spends his days working in his yard, visiting with his family and countless friends, watching baseball and doing his best to make up for that lost year of fishin’!
Published U.S. Legacies July 2003
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