Tribute to a Great Man and Great Marine

At 1:05 a.m. Wisconsin time this morning, my uncle Eldrue “Al” Faanes, 84, of Sun Prairie Wisconsin died after a lengthy battle with a medical condition – the same condition that took Jimmy Buffett’s dad. The world is a sadder place today because of my uncle’s passing.

Born on a farm near Prairie Farm in Barron County in November 1922, he had just turned 19 when Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. Not long afterward both he and my dad joined the military. My dad was in the Army; Eldrue joined the Marines. My dad was shipped off to Europe and then finally to guarding German prisoners of war at Camp (now Fort) Polk, Louisiana. Eldrue went to the Pacific.

He saw some horrific things in the Pacific and was involved in some horrible battles. Being a survivor, he returned to Wisconsin, used the GI bill, and attended the incomparable University of Wisconsin getting his Bachelors degree and eventually a Masters degree. He was a physical education coach at Cameron, Wisconsin, for a few years and then became a whiz at selling life insurance. It was then that he and my aunt moved to Sun Prairie where he lived the rest of his life.

My uncle always found time for me even though he lived 240 miles away at the other end of the state from Barron County. I remember him taking me to Chicago when I was 12 where we visited the Field Museum of Natural History and the John Hancock tower. It was in the latter that I encountered my first revolving door. Not knowing any better, I foolishly tried to stop the moving door before walking through it and soon my hand and the door frame became one. My uncle had a puzzled look on his face as he said, “well, my boy, that must hurt.”

From there we went to Wrigley Field where we watched the San Francisco Giants beat the Chicago Cubs. Highlights of the day were getting Juan Marichal’s autograph, then watching Willie Mays send a baseball into orbit over the left field bleachers only to be followed by Ernie Banks doing the same thing to another ball, almost hitting the apartment building across the street from the right field bleachers. After the game, Eldrue said, “well my boy, that was one hell of a game.”

He took me on my first fishing trip to Canada when I was 13. Along with my cousin Bruce, we hung out in a cabin on a lake near Kenora, Ontario, and spent several days in fishing bliss. One morning I had a healthy tug on my line and then did battle with (and finally landed) my first lake trout. My uncle only said “Well, my boy, that is one hell of a fish.”

I saw my uncle the last time in May 1997 when we returned home to Rice Lake to spread my mom and dad’s ashes on the pasture of our old farm.

This past April I spent a few days at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba where I met a Marine from Kansas. I told him a couple stories about my uncle the Marine and this kid from Kansas who, like a typical Marine, could have ripped the spots off a leopard just because they were there, said that I should always be proud of my uncle because of what he had endured in the Pacific. I told him I always have been.

My aunt and cousins took Eldrue off life support 16 days ago. Although he was 84 years old he continued to fight. In an email just yesterday my aunt said that although Eldrue had nothing left to fight with, he would not give up. He was a Marine to the very end.

After leaving my office this afternoon I took the Metro downtown and visited the World War II memorial on the National Mall. I wore my University of Wisconsin t shirt and stood in front of the Wisconsin shrine at the memorial and saluted it for my uncle the Marine. Wisconsin is enshrined here next to that raised area at the peak of the curve - next to that lesser state to the west with a purple football team.

I then walked over to the Ohio shrine and saluted it to honor Edward DeCapita, the father of my friend Mike. Mr DeCapita fought in the China-Burma-India theater but never got to see the memorial before he died in the fall of 2006. I went there to see it for him.

I stopped at the National Park Service Visitor Center to get a brochure about the memorial to send to Mike and started a conversation with the Park Service person behind the counter. I said to him, "My uncle who was a Marine in the Pacific died this morning and I came to salute the Wisconsin shrine for him." Seeing the tears in my eyes, the Park Service person said "He must have been one hell of a man to have been a Marine in the Pacific and survive." I told him that he was. The Park Service person then said he would make sure he walked over to Wisconsin and salute it for Eldrue before he left for the day. I'm sure that he did.

From the World War II Memorial I took a cab to the Marine Corps Memorial (Iwo Jima Memorial) where for the first time that I have ever vistited that memorial I was there alone. I stood at the side of the Memorial looking over the Lincoln Memorial and the National Mall where I hummed the Marine Corps hymn and then beside that monument to Marine bravery and fortitude, did a final salute of his Marine buddies for him. Then with a few more tears in my eyes I left for the subway to come home.

In whatever form his energy is now occupying, I hope my uncle is saying “Well, my boy, I appreciate that.”