Wahlen quiet, humble — hero

The passing last week of George Wahlen, Utah's last remaining Medal of Honor recipient from World War II, spotlighted a most inconvenient truth: The men who won that war are rapidly leaving the planet.

Of the 16.1 million GIs who defended the United States against the evil Axis powers from 1941 through 1945, the Federal Department of Veterans Affairs reports that just slightly more than 2.3 million are still living and that these veterans — all at least in their 80s and many in their 90s — are dying at a rate of about 900 per day.

Wahlen, of Roy, was 84. He died in the hospital that bears his name, the George E. Wahlen Department of Veterans Affairs Medical Center in Salt Lake City. Formerly referred to as "The VA," the hospital adopted Wahlen's name in 2004, both in tribute to his lifelong efforts in protecting rights for veterans and to the Medal of Honor he won for repeated displays of courage on the Japanese island of Iwo Jima in 1945.

I met George Wahlen once, at his home in Roy in the spring of 2001. I carry two images from that visit: how much he didn't want to talk about himself, and the Honda.

The interview came about after I read "Flags of Our Fathers," the bestselling book written by James Bradley and Ron Powers about the raising of the flag on Iwo Jima.

Bradley's father, a Navy medic, was one of the flag-raisers. In telling his father's tale, Bradley recounts the battle at Iwo Jima and the soldiers who fought it.

He tells of fierce fighting on March 3, 1945, that left thousands dead and resulted in five of the 27 Medals of Honor that would be awarded at Iwo — the most of any World War II engagement.

One of those went to 20-year-old George Wahlen, another medic, who was dragged off the beach that day with a broken leg. In previous days, shrapnel left him temporarily blinded in one eye and tore chunks of flesh from his shoulders and legs. During all this fighting, Wahlen repeatedly administered to wounded Marines. There is no telling how many lives he saved.

The book was one of many sources of WWII revival that appeared at the turn of the century. (It was later made into a hit movie by Clint Eastwood.) And it clearly cast Wahlen, who was beginning to receive a good measure of increased notoriety, as a bona fide hero.

I asked him how that felt, and all he essentially said was that, well, yes, the story was true.

He wanted to be fussed over about as much as John Stockton.

The longer I live, the more I hate war, and I never did like it. But war does one thing: It illuminates character. And World War II illuminated an American strain of character that was unassuming, unpretentious and unflinching — and enormously appealing.