William Kunes living a ‘rich’ life

William "Bill" Kunes of Beech Creek likes to think of himself as a millionaire. He isn't boasting about financial wealth, though. Bill says his riches come from a big and loving family, good health and what he says has been 87 good years of life.

Bill's appreciation and gratitude for all he's got comes from the realization that he could have, and more likely should have, been a casualty of war.

Born in Jersey Shore, Bill's family moved to Beech Creek when he was just two years old.

"I lived in Beech Creek Township until I got married in 1940 and then I've lived in the Borough ever since," says Bill as he reminisces about his younger years. "I went to the Quay School in Beech Creek Township through eighth grade, then to Beech Creek high school for two years, but I quit in tenth grade. I didn't like the teacher or algebra!"

In 1939, at the young age of 17, Bill went to work at a Civilian Conservation (CC) camp at Quantico, Virginia.

"It was right next to the Marine base there," remembers Bill. "I ran heavy equipment like dozers and rollers. We built roads mostly. I spent about a year down there."

Bill came back to Pennsylvania in 1940 and went to work at a CC camp in Loganton. He says he ran a bulldozer at the Lamar Fish Hatchery, making the fish ponds there.

"I got married while I was at the Loganton CC camp," says Bill. "We were supposed to be quarantined at the camp for the first two weeks, but I snuck home after the first week and married Vivian. The boys in my barracks got me a wedding present. They stole me a dozen knives, forks and spoons from the camp. They hid them and wrapped them up for me. They were brand new; they had "U.S." inscribed on the knives and "Quartermaster Corps" on the forks and spoons."

Vivian was a young woman Bill had met while still in school.

"I was in ninth grade and she was in eighth grade. Somebody must have told her I was a little wild," laughs Bill. "I walked by her and she stuck her tongue out at me. I thought, 'Okay, she's gonna get some of that!' We've been together ever since. We'll soon have 70 years together. It's been wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!"

After the CC camps, Bill came home and went to work at the brick yard in Orviston. When World War II broke out, he initially was deferred from service.

"I had a chance to go to work on the railroad, but the brick yard wouldn't release me. So I told a little lie and told the railroad I could go. I got drafted immediately. Vivian and I had two children, Garry and Nancy, but because I lied, I paid the consequences. I worked at the railroad for a year in Corning, New York as a fireman on the New York Central Railroad, but then got called into service."

Bill was sent to Pittsburgh to sign up.

"They asked me where I wanted to go, and I said either the Marine Corps or the Army Rangers. They said go to the Marines."

It was in March of 1944 Bill was 22 years old - when he traveled by train to San Diego, Calif., for boot camp.

"The first day, I dropped my rifle," says Bill. "I made the mistake of calling it a gun and because of that, my drill instructor said I was going to have to sleep with 12 of them that night. I learned my lesson there!"

He might have been across the country, but Bill did get a chance to see some family while at boot camp. His sister, Jessie Koch, who he hadn't seen in six years, lived in California, so he remembers that reunion fondly.

Bill next went to Camp Pendleton, California, for advanced training. He says his shooting skills landed him a spot on a rifle platoon.

"We were out on the firing range, doing rapid fire from the prone position," remembers Bill. "When the officer gave the order, you started firing at your target. Out of 16 shots, I had 15 in the bull and one just outside of the bull's-eye, so I ended up as a rifleman."

"I started as a private and it took me 18 months to make private first class," he adds. "I did a lot of brownnosing. I told them I needed the extra money because I had two kids!"

Bill was among the many replacement soldiers who were shipped overseas to reinforce the troops during the Second World War. His orders put him aboard the USS Collins, a transport ship that had just been commissioned a few months earlier, for a trip to the South Pacific island of Saipan.

"It took us 30 days to go across to Saipan," recalls Bill. "We went in as replacements and helped clean up what was left the U.S. had already secured the island."

"That was where they took my rifle from me and put me on the machine guns. I hated those guns I liked my rifle. But, you go where they tell you to go."

"When I was in the machine gun squad, I had a corporal who called me a kid, because he (the corporal) had gone through the war. Well, we slept in tents on a sand floor, so I put my wife's photo out with my two children's photos on each side of hers. When he saw that, the corporal called me 'Pop' from then on! He was quite a guy," says Bill with a laugh."

From Saipan, Bill boarded a ship headed for Okinawa. He says the convoy of ships was supposed to hit the island on Easter Sunday morning. It also happened to be April Fool's Day, but it would not be a day for jokes.

Early that April 1st morning, the largest amphibious fleet ever assembled in the Pacific Theater was about to begin its invasion of Ryukyu Island, better known as Okinawa. The strategy was codenamed Iceberg and involved 180,000 combat-ready Army and Marine troops, more than 1,300 ships of all types, and air forces.

"Every morning, we had General Quarters aboard ship and each person had to man their battle stations," remembers Bill of the journey to Okinawa. "I slept down in the tank deck, which had amphibious tanks there in the bottom of the ship. When the ship would land, the doors would open and the tanks and men would roll out and go to shore. That was where I was supposed to be when general quarters was called."

"But on Easter Sunday, I was called up to work in the officer's mess. When the skipper called general quarters, 17 boys went down into the tank deck but I had to stay up. It was then that the suicide plane hit us."

As the invasion began, Bill's ship was attacked by a Kamikaze pilot.

"Those 17 boys in the tank deck never knew what hit them. It was just a blaze of fire," says Bill, shaking his head. "Our ship had airplane gas and ammunition, so, finally, the skipper said to abandon ship."

"My sea bag was downstairs but I was told I couldn't go down there because it was nothing but fire," says Bill. "I didn't have my life belt, but an officer called me over and gave me a Mae West life jacket. I went to the railing and looked to see where I could jump. I had a helmet on and two canteen belts. I jumped just like they taught us in boot camp, and I survived. I hit the water and I never thought I was going to stop going down, but all of a sudden I popped up like a cork."

"A buddy told me to get rid of the helmet and swim to avoid going down when the ship sank. I was in the water about 45 minutes before I was picked up by a destroyer. The captain of that ship told his men to give me some dry clothes and feed me breakfast. It was the first time I'd ever had Navy clothes on," adds Bill with a wry laugh.

Bill was transferred to a Higgins boat (a shallow, barge-like landing craft used extensively during the War to ferry small groups of soldiers), and then to a large transport ship filled with troops.

"On board the transport ship, a Marine was taking pictures and he saw I was from the Lock Haven/Beech Creek area. His name was Dick Smart. He had been a guard at Rockview prison before the war," notes Bill.

The transport ship took Bill and others back to Saipan. He remembers they were out on maneuvers there, when."You could hear a buzz a long way off. People were saying the War was over. But it wasn't it was when the two bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Our company, I Company, was then sent to Nagasaki. We served as guards for that area, in the little villages and towns."

"I was eight miles away from Nagasaki in a barracks that had all of the windows blown away," remembers Bill. "The Japanese there described it (the bombing) as the big boom. They were forewarned of the bombing. We had dropped literature telling them the U.S. was going to drop a bomb, so many people went up into the hills."

"I'll never forget, a Japanese woman offered me a potato with butter. I didn't know whether to eat it or not, thinking she might be wanting to poison me."

But with that small kindness, there was also much strife following the bombing.

"There was disease, there were prostitutes. That was all off limits to us," says Bill. "We had guard duty there. I was standing in front of a bake shop watching the Japanese go by when a Marine came up and asked how to report a fire. I asked him, 'What's on fire?' and he said, 'The bake shop.' It was right behind me but I was distracted! Well, I blew a whistle and got a response to the situation. I was told later that I had done a good job. I was thankful for that other Marine!"

On another occasion, Bill was tasked with unloading a ship.

"We were at a dock at the city of Sasebo, Nagasaki. There were eight of us who were supposed to unload the ship, which we did for three days because no one came to replace us. We passed the time by telling dirty jokes. One of the guys put dishwater in my coffee they thought that was funny!"

"One other time, we had liberty and we went to a slop shoot (a beer garden)," remembers Bill. "It was packed, and my buddy and I were lucky to get a table. A guy walked by with a pan of beer and I hollered his nickname, 'Mush', so he knew someone from his home was there. It was Paul Gardner from Blanchard. Boy, we really had a party then! You wouldn't think you'd run into someone from home there."

Back on the home front, Vivian was also supporting the war effort. She worked at Piper Aircraft, punching buttons onto airplane seat cushions. Bill says she wrote him letters every day and sent many care packages. He says she kept a piece of paper beside her work area and often wrote poems about the distance between them and how she and the children prayed for his safe return.

As 1945 drew to a close, Bill was notified he was coming home.

"They called me into the office and said, 'You're going home. You've got 10 points (each of my children was worth five points) and a purple heart.' I said no, the purple heart is a mistake, but they wouldn't listen. They loaded us onto a ship. There was a terrible storm but the skipper wanted to be home by Christmas. I was so sick. The ship rolled so far I thought it was going to tip. A Navy guy said it would never turn over, that it would break in two, first! They took us to Bainbridge, Maryland, where I was discharged. I came home January 6, 1946."

After the War, Bill went back to the Beech Creek brickyard and worked there until it closed eight years later in 1954. Then he got hired on at the Rockview State Correctional Institution near State College and spent 25-and-a-half years there as a guard. He retired from Rockview nearly 31 years ago.

"My son went to work at Rockview, my grandson went to work at Rockview, my granddaughter, Billie Jo Rupert is there and her husband is there. My daughter, Dretta, has thirty-plus years there as the personal secretary to the warden, and her husband and son also work there. Rockview has been very good to us," says Bill. "Eight from the family have worked there."

And what a family it is! Bill and Vivian have six children. Son Garry, who lives in Snowshoe and who also served his country in the Marine Corps (Garry will tell you, "All I ever heard growing up was 'Marines'. If I'd have joined anything else, I'd have broken Dad's heart!"), is the oldest. Daughters Nancy Hendricks lives in Blanchard, Trudy Weaver in Howard, Barb Young is in Beech Creek right behind her parents, saying "They wouldn't let me move in with them, so I built out back!" Another daughter, Mary Wian, lives right behind Barb, and their youngest daughter, Dretta Andrews, lives nearby in Beech Creek. Bill and Vivian have 14 grandchildren, 25 great-grandchildren, and there's also a few great-great grandkids.

The Kunes's also made a name for themselves in the Beech Creek area, operating "Viv and Bill's" family restaurant for 13 years, from 1960 to 1973.

"It always made me mad that she was first," laughs Bill about the name of the restaurant, which was where Sovereign Bank's Beech Creek branch office is now located. One of their specialties at the restaurant was foot-long hotdogs, which have been revived over the past two years as the Kunes family helps host fundraisers for their church (Liberty Baptist Church in Blanchard) gymnasium.

Bill was a charter member of the Beech Creek fire company back when it was established, and today, he's the only living charter member. Vivian is the only charter auxiliary member of the fire company. In 2000, Bill received a service award for 53 years of membership.

He also is a long-time member and chaplain at the Bitner-Bechdel American Legion Post 623 in Beech Creek, where both his and son Garry's Marine Corps uniforms are among the military memorabilia on display. Bill also serves as Parade Marshall for the Memorial Day parade in Beech Creek, and he's a charter member of the Nittany Leathernecks, a fraternal organization of Marine veterans based in State College.

Today, at age 87, Bill's life is just a bit less hectic. In addition to family activities, he enjoys heading to the Sunset West restaurant in Pleasant Gap every Wednesday morning for breakfast with a group of fellow Rockview retirees. He also attends a retirees breakfast held annually at the Correctional Institution.

Ever proud of his military service, Bill can usually be seen wearing one of his many Marine Corps hats. He also has a red jacket with the USMC emblem that he's fond of wearing.

"I am a proud veteran," says Bill. "You learn discipline in the Marine Corps you get discipline there, or else! It was quite a challenge, quite an experience. I wouldn't want to see any of my kids go through it."

"I thought I was going to die when that suicide plane hit our ship. I should have been down below. That was terrible, but I didn't see nothing compared to some of those boys. I was lucky."

"There was another Kunes, Doyle Kunes, from Blanchard who went in at the same time as I did. We went in together and came home together," says Bill. "When our ship got hit, he was in the latrine and the concussion from the plane hitting the ship knocked him out. They took him to Okinawa. For 30 days, we each thought each other was dead. Then one day, he came back to Saipan where I was. There were two Kunes boys who threw a big party! He did receive a Purple Heart."

"But I do feel that I'm a millionaire," says Bill with a big smile. "I've got all of my kids, I've got good health, and have had a good life!"

It was Bill's family who sponsored his banner in Lock Haven's Hometown Heroes banner program, which he calls "wonderful." Vivian's brother, Joseph Merryman, is also pictured on a banner. Now deceased, Joseph was also a Marine who suffered injuries in World War II. He was hit with shrapnel and was shot in Okinawa. He's buried at the National Cemetery at Fort Indiantown Gap.

"The banner program is really something," says Bill. "I wouldn't knock any branch of service. It takes all to win a war. Each one thinks they're better than the other, but you put all of them together and they're untouchable!"