The crucible of war

Still inspired by Ken Burns' "The War," we've done more sleuthing about Uncle Ed's World War II experiences. It's become clear that he was there for almost every major operation in Europe, the likes of which we middle-aged cousins have, thankfully, never seen. The old book pictured above is a rough soldiers' account of the history of Ed's 329th Infantry Regiment. The photo glued to the front of it was taken after the war; the photo posted below before the war. In the book we found tucked this letter written by Ed's old fishing buddy Don Mueller of Dressen, Wis. It read:

March 30, 2002

Dear friends and family of Ed Sprick,

As we all know, Ed never said much about his experiences during World War II. The only two comments I can remember were, "I got to see Paris from the back of an ambulance" and some talk about walking across Europe.

One time we were deer hunting south of Lake City and several of us met up in the woods. Ed had a habit of placing his shotgun butt on the ground and putting his hand over the muzzle while he stood and talked. A stranger came up and commented about this unsafe act. Ed's comment about carrying his rifle across Europe ended that debate.

When questioned about the war, Ed would tell his family that it was "in the book." Finally, after all these years, I borrowed the book from Elmer. I would like to make some comments in it.

Ed was an Army staff sergeant in World War II. I was an Army staff sergeant in Vietnam. The 12th Infantry of the Fourth Division relieved Ed's unit a couple of times in Europe. I was assigned to the 12th Infantry in Vietnam. How I wish Ed and I had known that when he was alive.

In Ed's photo album there is a small photo [above, on the book cover] of Ed in a plain uniform, wearing no stripes or ribbons except for a long rectangular rifle with a blue background. That is the Army Combat Infantryman's Badge (CIB).

For those who have been in combat, that picture is worth a thousand words. The CIB is awarded to soldiers who have been infantrymen in a combat zone for at least six months. Truck drivers, cooks, clerks, etc. cannot receive the CIB. In Vietnam, I was assigned to an artillery unit of the 12th Infantry. No artilleryman could receive the CIB. We tried hard to find a way to earn it. Our jobs might have been dangerous, but they were not infantry.

Several years ago, I wrote to the then-chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and asked him how he could wear the CIB. He was an Army general who had always been in the artillery. He wrote back and said Congress had passed a special bill authorizing advisers in Vietnam to receive the CIB. Yeah -- right. But that four-star general knew the real significance of the CIB.

Many times I have seen civilians in church or at events where a suit and tie were worn. On their lapel would be a miniature CIB. Nothing else had to be said.

On the back of the photo, Ed had written: "July 28, 1945, Swezel, Germany. To Elmer from the Sarge." Ed knew the significance of the Combat Infantryman's Badge, and it shows in that picture.

Don Mueller

We think we see a subtle difference between Ed's expression on the photo of him with the Combat Infantryman's Badge on the book, taken after he was fought across Europe and was wounded (click on it to make it bigger), and the one below it, taken on Sept. 8, 1942, before he shipped out. The war surely was the defining experience of his life. (And we thought it was his taking us all fishing!)

Uncle Joe thinks that Ed would have enjoyed the scrapblog history entries, but liked the fishing photos even more. In honor of his wonderful postwar self, we're posting again one of our fav Ed photos, Ed in a tree, below.

"The War" and our very own Ed

The scrapblog editor and her senior executive associate research director, Uncle Elmer Sprick, watched all seven episodes of Ken Burns' "The War" on PBS, and pronounced it darn good. The scrapblog editor kept thinking she saw her dad and the uncles in various grainy segments. In the harrowing Hurtgen Forest episode (those are American GIs in a snowy foxhole in the Hurtgen, above), there was one blurry guy we are SURE was Ed. That led us to dig up Joe's ode to Ed in the family history book "An Even Dozen." Here it is:

By ELMER (JOE) SPRICK

What was history's greatest military operation? It was the Allied forces' landing on the coast of France on June 6, 1944, marking the beginning of the end of the Nazi war machine that had enslaved much of Europe. Books have been written and movies made about it, graphically documenting the horrors of war. Brother Ed was a part of the invasion force as an infantry sergeant in the U.S. Army.

There is a small book that one might read every Veterans Day. It is not available in the local library, as it was published in Wolfenbuttel, Germany, in July 1945, shortly after the end of World War II. The book, a history of the U.S. Army's 329th Infantry Regiment, was called "Buckshot." Page 147 is one of many pages listing the names of men killed or wounded in action at Normandy between June 6 and July 23, 1944. The name of Staff Sgt. Edward Sprick appears on that page. [Note from scrapblog editor: This book is probably "329 Buckshot Infantry Regiment," a history of the regiment edited by Daniel P. O'Connor and published in 1945 in Germany.]

That June, I had just completed my junior year of high school in Lake City, Minn. Two classmates and I were on our way from Lake City to the St. Joe National Forest in the panhandle of northern Idaho to work in remote 50-man forestry camps. Most older able-bodied men were in military service, so fighting forest fires and forest diseases had to be done by those under draft age, prisoners of war and Mexican nationals.

There was only one radio in our camp and no newspapers, so we knew very little about what was going on in the rest of the world. It was August before a letter came from my sister Anna telling me that Ed had been wounded in action in France and was hospitalized in England. By the time his V-mail letter arrived in Minnesota from England, he was back in action, fighting his way across Europe, enduring among other things the bitter cold and bloodstained snows of the Hurtgen Forest.

Ed never talked much about his war experiences. When asked, he would say, "It's all in the book." The book he was referring to was "Buckshot," which traced the history of his 329th Infantry [part of the 83rd Division? we're researching that] from the beaches of Normandy to the outskirts of Berlin. The 329th fought across France, Luxembourg, Belgium and Germany. Along the way, they faced bombs, tanks, mortars, rifle fire, minefields, booby-trapped pine trees, mud, hunger and deathly cold, sleepless nights. They also faced the sight and smell of corpses.

The 329th Infantry took every fortified objective in its path, often using "breast fire" formation, and always at great cost of human life. Those who survived each battle were reminded by their commanding officer that they were indebted to those who had died. "It is a debt we can never repay," he told them.

Ed was a survivor.

Years later, he spent many enjoyable days during his retirement from the Swift meatpacking plant in South St. Paul fishing Lake Pepin and the Zumbro River. When I retired in 1983, Ed's health was failing. Rheumatoid arthritis caused him a lot of pain. He survived several difficult surgeries, but in the end, lung cancer killed him.

"Any day you can fish is a good day," he used to say. It was my pleasure to take him fishing often during his last two years of sunrises. His former fishing partners were some of the best, frequently visiting with him on the days he was not able to fish. Also, little kids in the neighborhood came to visit him almost daily. They knew Ed was a soft touch with a kind heart, and he would give them gum and candy, or ice cream on a hot summer's day.

Ed died at his home on a cold Sunday morning, Jan. 20, 1985. He was 74. As we were preparing for his funeral, a 6-year-old neighbor girl came to me and asked, "Will you take me to Ed's funeral?" She sat next to Mavis and me in a packed church, paying her final tearful tribute and sharing our sense of great loss.

Several years after Ed's death, a Memorial Day story appeared in the local newspaper. The last paragraph read: "A visitor at Ed Sprick's final resting place paid eloquent respects by placing a beautiful fishing jig on his modest headstone. An old friend and fishing partner remember that 'we have a debt we can never repay.'"

Here is Ed's service record, as recorded in his own hand in his World War II scrapbook:

1942
April 10: Drafted, Fort Snelling, Minnesota. Medics, Camp Robinson, Arkansas.
July: Station hospital, Camp Campbell, Kentucky.
October: Transferred to Co. K., 329th Infantry, 3rd Battalion, 83rd Division. Camp Atterbury, Ind.

1943
July-August: Maneuvers in Tennessee.
September: Camp Breckinridge, Kentucky.

1944
March: Camp Shanks, New York.
April 6: Sailed from New York on Samaria for England.
April 19: Landed at Liverpool, England. stationed at Wrexham, Wales.
June 18: Plymouth, England.
June 19: Sailed for Omaha Beach, France.
July 4: Went into action in France.
July 6: Wounded.
July 12: Flown to England in a C 47. Hospitalized in 186th General Hospital until Sept. 5.
October: Landed at Omaha Beach en route to old outfit.
Oct. 17: Wounded at Birgel, Germany.
1945
About Jan. 14: Got trench foot. One week in a Paris hospital. Back to England by boat. At 67th General Hospital.
March: Discharged from hospital. [Illegible] near Birmingham, England. One week's leave there.
April 25: Went from Southhampton, England, to Le Havre, France.
May: Got back to old outfit at Braunschweig, Germany.
June: Frauenau, Germany.
August: Maneuvers (Jap tactics) at [illegible; Graf--- something]. Back to Frauenau.
Sept. 10: Transferred to 8th Armoured Division. Went to Pilsen, Czechoslovakia.
Sept. 17: Camp Oklahoma, France. Five weeks later at Le Havre. One week at Camp Philip Morris.
Nov. 4: Left for the States.
Nov. 12: Landed at Boston, Mass., at Camp Miles Standish.
Nov. 15: Left for Camp McCoy, Wisconsin.
Nov. 18: Discharged honorably from U.S. Army at Camp McCoy. Arrived at 201 N. Washington St., Lake City, Minn., a tired but happy civilian. Amen.

ADDENDUM

The web is a wonderful thing if you love history. The scrapblog editor just found this information about Ed's 329th Infantry and where it went and what it did. Sounds like the worst, and we mean the WORST EVER, summer and Christmas spent in Europe:

THE 329th INFANTRY IN ACTION

NORMANDY, June 23-Aug. 2, 1944

The 329th Infantry landed in France on D + 17 (June 23, 1944) and moved to an assembly area northwest of Bricqueville. On June 28, the 83rd Division relieved the 101st Airborne Division south of Carentan, and for a week the regiment was in division reserve with the 1st Bn protecting the city of Carentan. On July 4, the big attack jumped off. The 2nd Bn (the only element of the regiment in the initial attack) tried to cross the swamp southwest of Carentan, but met heavy resistance from German paratroops and was unable to gain a foothold on the opposite bank. On the following day, the 3rd Bn, followed by the 1st, drove 2,500 meters through hedgerow defenses to Culot, and although heavily counterattacked by SS troops, held their positions. From then until the great breakthrough of July 25, the fiercest fighting of the war took place, consisting of numerous assaults on fortified hedgerow positions. The Nazis' 17th SS Division opposing them was decimated. On July 26-27, following the withdrawing enemy, the regiment crossed the Taute River and reached Fougeres. where it went into an assembly area.

Towns captured: Culot and approximately 1000 hedgerows. Prisoners of war captured: 106.

ST. MALO, Aug. 3-18, 1944

On Aug. 3, the 329th moved by motor to Pontorson and on the 4th began the drive north to capture the fortress of St. Malo. After a hard fight by the 2nd Bn at Chateauneuf, the town was taken and the regiment drove on to engage the fortified belt around the city of St. Malo. Thence followed an attack on the fortified positions that resulted in the entry into St. Servan, a suburb of St. Malo, on Aug. 9. The 2nd Bn was detached from the regiment at this time, and in a brilliantly executed attack seized the heavily fortified Pte. de la Varde, east of St. Malo, and captured 197 prisoners of war. They then proceeded to capture the fort of Grand Bey. In the meantime, the city of St. Servan having fallen, the regiment laid siege to the Citadel, which after several assaults and heavy bombardment capitulated on Aug. 17, when Col. Von Aulock and a garrison of 596 surrendered.

Towns captured: Dolet, Chateauneuf, Chateau Malo, St. Jouan, St. Suliac, St. Pere, St. Anne, La Beurelais, La Balue, La Motte, St. Servan, Citadel of St. Servan, Fort de la Varde, Grand Bey. Prisoners of war captured: 3,203.

LOIRE, Aug. 19-Sept. 23, 1944

On Aug. 19, the 329th moved to the city of Angers, charged with the defense of the city and the north bank of the Loire. By Aug. 27, the sector of defense for the regiment had stretched to 130 miles from a point west of Angers to Orleans. The main activity during the period was patrol incursions from south of the river. On Aug. 30, the enemy forces south of the Loire began a general withdrawal to the east. On Sept. 8, the I&R Platoon received information that a column of 20,000 Germans wished to surrender to American troops. Negotiations followed, and on Sept 16-17, Gen. Elster and 19,854 German troops laid down their arms on the south bank of the Loire at Beaugency and became prisoners of war.

Town captured: Pont Dece. Towns entered by patrols: Tours, Nevers, Romcrantin, Chateauroux, Chatellerault, Bourges and many smaller towns south of Loire. Prisoners of war captured: 20,058.

LUXEMBOURG, Sept. 24-Dec. 9, 1944

Sept. 23 saw the 329th en route to the Siegfried Line northeast of Luxembourg. In the weeks that followed, the attacks on Grevenmacher (Oct. 1-5), and Echternach (Oct. 1-8) took place. German patrol activity was continuous, but no serious threats developed while the regiment held its sector of almost 25 miles of the west bank of the Moselle.

Towns captured: Oberdonven, Niederdonven, Grevenmacher, Osweiler, Berdorf, Dickweiler, Echternach. Prisoners of war captured: 211.

DUREN, Dec. 10-25, 1944

On Dec. 10, the 329th crossed the German frontier and relieved the 8th Infantry, 4th Division, in the Hurtgen Forest west of Duren. Two days later, the attack to the Roer River jumped off, and after a day of heavy fighting the enemy line was broken and the edge of the forest reached. Dec. 13-14 saw a series of brilliant attacks against the towns of Gurzenich and Birgel by 2nd and 3rd Bns respectively, and the seizure of those towns by our troops. The German counterattack on Gurzenich in Bn strength supported by six assault guns took place on Dec. 16, the day of the start of the great German counteroffensive in the Ardennes. It was successfully repulsed, and but few of the attacking troops were able to withdraw to Duren. The following day, the 1st Bn took the town of Rolsdorf and on the 18th sent the first patrol across the Roer into Duren. On the 23rd, the 329th was relieved and moved to a reserved position at Eilendorf, Germany, where it spent Christmas Day.

Towns captured: Gurzenich, Birgel, Rolsdorf. Prisoners of war captured: 1,054.

ARDENNES, Dec. 26-Jan. 22, 1944

On Dec. 26, the regiment was rushed to the vicinity of Havelange, Belgium, to assist in the containing the German breakthrough. On Dec. 28, the 329th relieved the armor in the Division sector and launched the attack which carried B Co into Rochefort. The pressure of the attack to relieve B Co, which was surrounded by Germans in the city, forced a premature withdrawal of the enemy panzer forces to the east, leaving the regiment in control of Rochefort.

Relief by British forces, movement to the east, and the drive with the 3rd Armored Division to cut off the German spearhead followed, and on Jan 9, 1945 the regiment attacked again against German tanks and in freezing cold and snow to capture Petite Langlier. A night attack on the 11th saw 2nd Bn in possession of Pont de Langlier, and a bridgehead for the armor. The attack to the east through the Bois de la Ronce resulted in the capture of Honyelez on Jan. 14 and the seizure of the high ground west of Bovigny and Courtil, which towns were occupied on Jan. 20. The Germans began a slow withdrawal to the Siegfried Line, and on Jan. 22 the 329th was relieved and pulled back to prepare for future offensive action.

Towns captured: Rochefort, Pont de Langlier, Honyelez, Bovigny, Courtil, Cierrieux, Rogery. Prisoners of war captured: 615.

Commanding officers of the 329th Infantry
Regimental commander: Col. Edwin B. Crabill
CO, 1st Battalion: Lt. Col. Tim O. Cook
CO, 2nd Battalion: Lt. Col. Granville A. Sharpe
CO, 3rd Battalion: Lt. Col. John C. Speedie

Total number of prisoners of war captured: 25,247

Campaign stars awarded: Normandy, Northern France, Germany

ENDNOTES

This was written by an Army historian before the war ended. Notice that the history is incomplete, since it does not follow the actions of the 329th all the way to the Elbe River in April and May, and the conclusion does not include the campaign stars awarded for the Ardennes and Central Europe.

In World War II, airborne and infantry divisions were made up of squads (usually nine to 12 men), with two squads to a platoon, and three or four platoons to a company. There were usually three or four companies to a battalion, three or four battalions to a regiment, three or four regiments to a division, plus attached engineers, artillery, medical and other support personnel. Allied infantry divisions were from 15,000 to 20,000 strong in the European Theater, while Allied airborne divisions were about one-half that size. Most German divisions were less than 10,000 strong. (See Stephen E. Ambrose, "D-Day, June 6, 1944: The Climactic Battle of World War II" (New York/London: Simon & Schuster, 1994.)

The scrapblog editor notes an important fact missing from this otherwise stellar account: Casualties. She'll try to track down the number of dead and wounded and update this soon.

"My Life as a WAVE" by Aunt Anna

This piece by Aunt Anna Sprick Smith (Oct. 16, 1920-Sept. 16, 2012) appeared in the Memorial Day 2000 issue of Today magazine. An editor's note read: "What a great story Anna wrote. I've heard many good comments, particularly about the role women played in World War II." Anna's WAVE uniform is on display in the military room at the Goodhue County Historical Society Museum in Red Wing, Minn. The military room was established by none other than Uncle Bill Miller and displays his uniform as well. There's some very good information on WAVES at this U.S. Navy history site.

By ANNA SMITH

A young nephew often asks to see my World War II medals. He never asked what I did to receive them. So here's my story.

After the "Day of Infamy" -- the bombing of Pearl Harbor -- war was declared against Japan on Dec. 8. 1941. I heard the news on the radio on Sunday afternoon after returning to my boarding home in Bremen, Minn., where I had my first teaching assignment.

War-related events during two years of teaching there included teaching children how to knit squares for the Red Cross, conducting programs to raise money for the Red Cross and hopefully, preparing children for a world of peace.

In the spring of 1943, a teacher from Winona State Teachers College viisted my school and asked me to consider teaching and supervising new student teachers in the rural lab department at the college. I was 23 then, trying to envision my future and my country's future. I enlisted in the WAVES.

In March 1942, Congress had created the Women's Auxiliary Army Corps, giving women temporary military status that was to last as long as the war continued. By the end of July 1942, The Navy began accepting women into the WAVES -- that is, Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service. The Coast Guard and Marines soon followed suit, and by June 1943, the Women's Auxiliary Army Corps had become the WACS. In 1948, Congress passed a law marking women a permanent part of the military.

On May 29, 1943, I left for boot camp at the Naval Training Center at Hunter College in New York City. I had never before ridden on a train ahd had only been in one other state, Wisconsin. For four weeks, we endured the heat in the Bronx during Navy classes, drills, discipline and bewilderment. Studying "The Bluejacket's Manual" was a far cry from teaching fourth-grade geography. Marching on the streets of the Bronx was totally different from pitching softballs to my students.

After three weeks of study and drilling in New York, we were given a weekend of liberty. We saw the sights in New York City, including the Empire State Building, Staten Island, the Statue of Liberty, Radio City Music Hall, a Toscanini concert, tea dances at the Biltmore and Roosevelt hotels and dining at Longchamps. And we never got lost!

I was assigned to the Hospital Corps, part of the Navy Medical Department. I endured a five-day train trip to San Diego Naval Hospital, arriving there on June 30, 1943. It was on that trip that I discovered how prone I was to motion sickness.

During the first month of school at the hospital, I had classes in basic anatomy, physiology, nursing, medicine, first aid, minor surgery, hygiene and sanitation. After graduating, I was assigned to the men's orthopedic ward, where wounds were dressed, baths were given, beds were changed and medications administered. I recall "specialing" one patient who had lost a leg. Gangrene had set in, and I was assigned to stay with him after he was prescribed penicillin. Eleanor Roosevelt visiting the patients while I was there.

The hospital had a large Dependent Annex with women, children and babies of servicemen. There I did nursing duties for long hours, often working extra shifts when hospital shipts or trains came in with war casualties.

A bout with scarlet fever left me unable to continue ward duty. So next I worked as a clerical technician in the administration building at the survey and navigation offices, where the typing skills I learned at Lake City High School were put to good use.

Later I was transferred to the neuropsychiatric ward, where I typed medical histories from doctors' notes and patient interviews. Doctors don't always have the best handwriting!

WAVES lived in barracks on the hospital base, ate at the mess hall and worked hard, always ready for an extra shift.

Balboa Park, once a lovely international exposition area with a famous botanical garden, theaters and a zoo, was taken over by the Navy and became Balboa Annex. During the war, it housed doctors' offices, patient quarters and rehabilitation facilities.

Eventually I worked for various psychiatrists in their offices at Balboa Annex. The patients were Marines who were being rehabilitated to return to active duty.

Fifty years later, I returned to San Diego to find Balboa Park restored to its status as a great cultural center. I visited the San Diego Zoo and recalled working just beyond the zoo fence.

On Aug. 5, 1945, we learned that the first atomic bomb had fallen on Hiroshima, and soon after that about the one in Nagasaki.

I was working on a Marine patient ward in Balboa Annex when word came that the war was officially over. What a wonderful feeling!

My world became broader during my 29 months as a WAVE. Guadalcanal, Bougainville, Tarawa, Saipan, Guam, Iwo Jima, New Guinea, Corregidor, Midway and Okinawa became familiar names.

In late November 1945, my brother Edward Sprick, an Army sergeant, received his discharge after several years in the infantry in Germany. He fought on Omaha Beach and in the Battle of the Bulge.

Now a Pharmacist Mate 2/c, I was separated from the Navy on Nov. 20, 1945, in Great Lakes, Ill. I returned to Winona State Teachers College to obtain a four-year degree in elementary education. I also earned a master's degree from the University of Michigan. Both times I was able to take advantage of the GI Bill.

Entertainers, musicians and show people flocked to the hospital to entertain the patients and staff. Bob Hope, Frances Langford, Adolph Menjou, Kay Kyser, Bing Crosby, Eddie Cantor, Eddie Bracken, Rubinoff, the Andrews Sisters, Jose Iturbi, Harpo Marx, Jimmy Durante, Mickey Rooney, Hoagie Carmichael, Xavier Cugat, Joan Blondell, Cary Grant, Danny Kaye and Horace Heidt were among some I saw there.

But when young Frank Sinatra came to entertain the WAVES, I declined because I had heard of all the young girls screaming, fainting and idolizing the skinny kid from New Jersey.

Fifty years later I regretted not going to that show.

I never regretted the decision to join the WAVES.

Great friendships were made during the Navy years. Regardless of background, education, wealth, status, sex or color, we were friends, united in purpose and dedication.

Women's place in society greatly changed during this period in history. Women worked in factories and in the armed forces, doing work that previously had been only in men's domain.

I learned to treasure our freedoms in America. I saw all around me what those freedoms had cost. People united in the common goal of fighting for and working for America can accomplish great things.

The Millers in Monterey: A gallery of snapshots

A gallery of photos of the Millers during their year or so in Monterey, Calif., in the early 1960s. Uncle Bill was stationed at Fort Ord, where he attended Army language school and learned Czech. Whenever possible, the Millers went to the beach, which was windy, cold and gorgeous. We especially like the photo of the Army fort neighborhood birthday party where the boy cutting up is NOT cousin Chris, for once. To make the Miller kids terrifyingly large, click on each photo.

All together now: "Ach, Du Lieber Augustin"

The old German drinking song “Ach, Du Lieber Augustin” is a perfect theme song for the Sprick cousins, and not just because Grandma Sprick’s maiden name was Augustin. The lyrics, which remind us faintly of Warren Zevon’s “Poor, Poor Pitiful Me,” are perfectly morbid and hilarious.That is so Sprick-like! Here they are, in German and English:

Opening and refrain:
Ach, du lieber Augustin, Augustin, Augustin, Ach, du lieber Augustin, Alles ist hin! Geld ist hin, Mädl ist hin, Alles ist hin, Augustin! Ach, du lieber Augustin, Alles ist hin!

(refrain)

Rock ist weg, Stock ist weg, Augustin liegt im Dreck. Ach, du lieber Augustin, Alles ist hin!

(refrain)

Und selbst das reiche Wien, Hin ist's wie Augustin; Weint mit mir im gleichen Sinn, Alles ist hin!

(refrain)

Jeder Tag war ein Fest, Jetzt haben wir die Pest! Nur ein großes Leichenfest, Das ist der Rest.
(refrain)

Augustin, Augustin, Leg' nur ins Grab dich hin! Ach, du lieber Augustin, Alles ist hin!

Translation:

Opening and refrain:
O, my dear friend Augustin, Augustin, Augustin, O, my dear friend Augustin, I just can't win!

Money's gone, girlfriend's gone, I just can't win, Augustin! O, my dear friend Augustin, I just can't win!

(refrain)

Coat is gone, staff is gone, Augustin's on his bum. O, my dear friend Augustin, I just can't win!

(refrain)

Even that rich town Wien [Vienna], Is broke like Augustin; Shed tears with thoughts akin, I just can't win!

(refrain)

Every day was a fest, Now we just have the pest! Now all the corpses rest, That is the rest.

(refrain)

Augustin, Augustin, Lay down in your coffin! O, my dear friend Augustin, I just can't win!

This immortal piece’s melody was co-opted by the Canadian children’s singer Raffi, who rewrote it like this:

The more we get together, Together, together, The more we get together, The happier we'll be.

Cuz your friends are my friends, And my friends are your friends. The more we get together, The happier we'll be.

Clearly, Raffi is not a Sprick.

Those who came before us

Obituaries and cemeteries hold a lot of family history. Here are some from the Sprick family. The top two photos are of Sprick family graves (Maria, Claus, Ed, Clarence) at the St. John's Lutheran Church cemetery in Lake City, Minn. (LeRoy, who was Catholic, is buried in the adjacent Catholic cemetery.) The next one is of Aunt Marion's grave at Fort Snelling National Cemetery; Marion was a U.S. Army nurse in World War II. (Uncle Wally is buried next to her.)

Next, a couple of newspaper obits that marked the passing of significant Spricks.

A reminder that clicking on an item will make it bigger and easier to read.

A debacle in the Old Frontenac forest

You know something very, very bad has happened when we are moved to say, "It's a good thing Alverna isn't here to see this." That's what cousins Pam and Dan and Uncle Joe said to each other as they tromped through the ravaged woods of Old Frontenac this weekend. We were shocked by what we saw, which was clearly the result of unscrupulous loggers aiming to make a buck -- many bucks -- off of trees that should never have been harvested. Taking a historical perspective, Uncle Joe, our own wise forester, wrote this account of what led to this debacle.

By ELMER (JOE) SPRICK

In the 1800s, the Garrards, an aristocratic family from Kentucky, spent summers on the shores of Lake Pepin. One of its sons, Israel Garrard, a Northern Army general in the Civil War, loved the area and acquired several hundred acres of forested land along the lake. He named it Frontenac.

In the 1880s, Israel donated several acres of forest to Florence Township with restrictions in the deed that precluded commercial development. Accordingly, a major highway and the railroad were developed farther west in what became New Frontenac.

The forestland contained mixed hardwoods, predominantly red oak, basswood, cherry, elm and maple. It was largely unmanaged. Hunting and firewood cutting (of dead trees) were permitted. Within the forest is a well-maintained cemetery where Gen. Garrard and his family lie buried, along with many citizens who loved this quiet area.

In the 1980s, the Frontenac Historical Preservation Commission was established, made up of eight civic-minded village dwellers. Their mission statement: "To protect and preserve the natural beauty, cultural heritage and historic features of the Frontenac Historic District." They succeeded in preserving a number of historic buildings and served as a watchdog group that prevented major highway construction and commercial development in the village.

In recent years, the commission recognized that management of the park timber had been neglected and that some of the trees up to 200 years old were deteriorating. Its choices: leaving the parklands as a natural area, cutting only dead trees for firewood as had been past practice; removing the culls and high-risk overmature trees, or hiring a consultant forester to advise and supervise a timber sale.

The commission members, who had no experience in managing or selling timber, could not have known the terms "logger's choice," "commercial clear-cut," "diameter limit" and "gypo logger" -- all dirty words to a forester.

They contacted a local sawmill operator who helped them designate the dead and high-risk trees. Unfortunately, stumps were not marked, which might have headed off the cutting of unmarked trees. A contract was let to a local tree service for the cutting of designated trees. That tree service subcontracted the cutting to an unscrupulous logger.

Sawyers came in a day before the contract starting date. Disregarding the markings, they cut nearly all of the big, sound, healthy and valuable trees. The cutting went on for a day and a half before township officials discovered the contract violations and the severe damage the skidder had inflicted on the remaining small trees.

The cutting resulted in newspaper headlines and a lot of angry citizens, especially those who love big trees and who own land bordering the parklands.

In a recent press interview, the commission chairman said: "We now know that the best approach is to work through a knowledgeable forestry consultant. The fee of 14 percent would be cheap, since he will get much more revenue from the harvest than an unknowledgeable woodlot owner and, more important, only the designated timber would be removed."

Ironically, the commission has unwittingly destroyed the very thing it had hoped to care for and protect.

Although cleanup is underway and new trees are being planted, inquiring minds may someday want to know what happened to Wakondiota Park in Old Frontenac in March 2007. Only time will tell if a stand of buckthorn will occupy the site for the next century. Will the ash saplings being planted survive the recently resurgent emerald ash borer? Will the oak saplings survive oak wilt infection? Or will the remaining stand of cull trees and buckthorn stand as a monument to the Frontenac Historic Preservation Commission?

It takes a true optimist to find something positive in the destruction of a stand of 150-year-old hardwoods, but one astute landowner whose lot borders the park had his taxes lowered because the big trees bordering it had been destroyed. (That landowner also compared what happened to the destruction of a herd of elephants to harvest their tusks. It's that ugly.)

A salty old forestry professor once warned a class I was in: "Trees are a long-term crop. The way you manage a stand of timber may have a great impact for 100 years or more. Consider the cutting practice carefully."

In the meantime, we can only hope that the general is sleeping peacefully in his grave.