Armistice Veteran's Day 1940
ARMISTICE DAY/ VETERAN’S DAY November 11, 1940
The morning was dark and cold. Leech Lake beckoned the duck hunters
to climb into their boats and head for the blinds. My father, John Edward
Welk (Punchy) was no exception. He and my Uncle Iver loaded their boat
with plenty of hot coffee, guns, shells, and decoys. They headed toward
Bear Island and Jensen's point. Here was the perfect landing spot for the
mallards and bluebills as they made their yearly journey. Leech Lake
was turbulent but that did not deter these hunters. With motors and a
full tank of gas, they left the dock and began their trek to the duck
blinds.
Soon after setting out the decoys and getting the boat into position, the
ducks began to fly. Wow, the weather was getting bad, but the hunting
was excellent. They filled their limits in a very short time.
My father was always concerned about weather. He often told the story
of riding out a tornado in North Dakota. He was working on the railroad
when it hit the ground. He said he hung onto the rails of a boxcar. The
wind was violent, knocking his head against the boxcar. He thought at
any moment he would be knocked unconscious or be torn loose from the
rail. He was a very strong man so was able to endure the pressure. But
the rest of his life, he watched the skies for signs of weather. When the
rains, thunder and lightning started, we were instructed to stay away
from the windows and the sink, lest the lightning would strike us.
Winter with its wind, snow, and cold had many warnings. Never dig a
tunnel in the snow, never stand still when it is cold; keep moving, always
wear a hat; keeps you warm, never go outside with a wet head; you will
get sick and many more warnings.
He read the weather and he was very concerned that it was
becoming very bad in a short time. He suggested they return home, but
Iver did not feel that it was that bad. So slowly they headed the boat
home. By the time they reached the dock, the weather was a strong
storm; the waves were beating the boat and the dock. Finally, they were
able to tie the boat to the dock. Quickly they removed the ducks,
thermos, decoys. The guns were put in the bow of the boat. Suddenly,
the boat began to rock, and the guns fell against the boat seat. The
hammer of one of the guns, a 12-gauge double barrel shot gun,
(manufactured at the turn of the century) hit the seat and
discharged It caught my father in his right arm, splitting it wide open.
He was taken to the house; they called for help, loaded my dad in a car
and headed for the hospital. It was over 60 miles to the hospital, and he
was bleeding profusely. Neighbors administered what they knew about
first aid.
This all happened during the worst storm of the century. It was referred
to as the "Storm from Hell". Without warning (remember what
communications were like in 1940) it dumped several inches of snow,
sub-zero temperatures, and strong winds over the Midwest. The storm
knocked out power and killed thousands of animals and humans. Those
who were traveling lost their way in the blinding snow and froze to
death.
Off in the blinding snowstorm they struggled. They stopped just a short
distance from Walker, Minnesota to the state hospital Ag Gwa Ching and
he received more first aid. Then on to St. Joseph Hospital in Park Rapids
they headed. The hospital was run by nuns as were many of the hospital
in northern Minnesota. My father was on the verge of passing out when
a nun grabbed him by the hair and told him he was strong, "So sit up, you
will be fine". He would tell us if he hadn't been so weak, he would have
punched her. Remember his nickname, Punchy.
Here he would remain for several days. They ground liver and made him
drink it to replace the blood he had lost. I am sure he received good care
but knowing my father, he would not stay there any longer than
necessary. He was a very stubborn German.
I often think of what went through my mother’s mind. My sister,
Marilyn, was about 2 years old, I was 3 months old, and Mother was
pregnant with my sister, Charlotte. Now there goes her wounded
husband. She could not go with him, would she ever see him again, how
would she care for three small children by herself? Wow! What a load.
But the stubborn German healed and when on to father five more
children. One evening he stopped talking, had a strange look in his eye,
opened his mouth and showed us a BB that had migrated to his check.
On another occasion, he took a knife and cut his arm to release a BB that
had surfaced. He said 96 BBs were still in his arm. His hand was
crippled, having no use of his fingers. Why did one to these not go to his
heart or lungs? Sometimes because his fingers were so close to his hand,
it would become irritated, and salve would be rubbed into that spot. I
don't remember of him ever complaining or considering himself
handicap. He was a logger and used a chain saw; he worked road
construction and did many other jobs to provide for his family.
My parents provided for us without the help of food stamps or
commodities. We had a small farm where we raised enough animals for
our use, we had a large garden, and we picked every berry we possibly
could. They were hard working and planned for the long winters by
canning and smoking meat and raising their own food. We never went
hungry. We were poor but we didn't know it. We had a lot of good food,
the fellowship of the community and the love of a big family. We were
truly blessed.