Kenmore resident and Bothell Fire Commissioner Jack Van Eaton not only turned 91 years old on Feb. 17, but was also knighted as a Chevalier in France’s Legion of Honour, the nation’s highest honor, for his actions during World War II (WWII).
The story started in 1944, when Jack Van Eaton enlisted in the Army with his brother, hoping they’d both go to flight school. While his brother would fly 23 missions in a B-29 bomber over Japan, Jack would head to Europe and take up arms against the Nazis.
“That was my brother,” Van Eaton said. “He flew and I walked [the war].”
From armored infantry training, Van Eaton went to train in the Tennessee backwoods.
“Maybe 100,000 people were transferred out of the Air Corps into the infantry, so then I ended up in the 78th Infantry Division,” Van Eaton said. “We went to Tennessee to do maneuvers in the swamp and chase poisonous rattlesnakes across the streams in front of us.”
One day, he was told to muster with all his gear in the parade grounds.
“Finally, I think they thought we were well enough trained and sent us to a ship in New York harbor. The ship I went on had previously been a British cruise ship designed to carry 600 people. There was only 3,500 of us that got piled into there, which probably exceeded the limit.”
He then learned he’d be heading over the Atlantic Ocean to fight in the thick of battle on the European front lines. He and more than 10,000 others in the 78th Infantry, and all their gear, machinery, and equipment, boarded several ships and crossed the Atlantic.
“We left New York harbor on Friday the 13th of October 1944. Friday the 13th, we thought, ‘Oh, that’s not a good sign,’” Van Eaton said. “We traveled alone, we did not travel in a convoy. Our ship was faster than the convoys go.”
“We were told it was faster than a submarine, but we were quite aware that it was not faster than a torpedo.”
The 78th infantry made it safely across “The Pond” in England and started training to fight Nazi troops in France. The first time he saw combat was during the Battle of the Bulge, one of the most notorious of the European campaign. Trench foot and frozen feet were high among the other troops, however, Van Eaton’s battalion never got those issues as he had taught them how to live with the cold.
Growing up on a farm in Canada, Van Eaton was no stranger to the cold.
“It was probably 30 – 40 degrees below freezing, around 10 to 15 below zero,” Van Eaton said. “No matter what it was called, it was cold.”
During his time near the front lines, he had many near misses with Nazi artillery, fortune shone on him, but not on about half of the men with which he went over to Europe.
“We were told to ‘keep the line at all cost,’ now that’s not good hearing ‘all cost,’” Van Eaton said.
During the Battle of the Bulge, when ordered by his sergeant to lubricate his machine gun with motor oil, Van Eaton was nearly given a court martial for disobeying a direct order. However, men on the lines were needed and when it came time to fire at the advancing Nazi’s, Van Eaton’s machine gun was the only one that fired.
“While we were sitting in the woods waiting and doing nothing, except making sure the Germans didn’t make it past us, an order came down and a sergeant came in with a can of motor oil with orders that we should oil all of our weapons,” he said. “I was born and raised in the cold country, and I know that oil – in cold weather – doesn’t allow things to move…”
“I said well if I’m court martialed will they come out here and do it, or be forced to go into a warm building to be court martialed,” Jack said. “That upset the poor sergeant, he got real upset…”
Another time, a German troop had raised the white flag of surrender and had asked that the Allied troops come and take them into custody as they’d run out of ammunition. Van Eaton was a heavy machine gunner, slower than the rifleman ahead of him, which was good for Van Eaton when the German troops ended up finding some rounds and used them without prejudice.
There were also other events during the war that left Van Eaton feeling survivor’s remorse, when the group split and the other team were spotted by German artillery. They didn’t make it, but his group did, allowing them to see the artillery coming in at 20- to 30-foot intervals.
“The one that landed over there were so close to the foxhole that two guys were temporarily deaf from the concussion, it was that close,” Van Eaton said. “So we didn’t shoot anymore, we pretended we were dead. Then when we saw that our riflemen were in town, we left the foxhole and spread out at 25-30 foot intervals so that if artillery shells came in they’d only get one or two of us.”
Three shells landed along the division as they came into town; all three shells were duds – a saving grace Van Eaton attributes to the Polish captives who were creating duds for the Germans.
However, the Battle of the Bulge is also where Van Eaton took a Nazi bullet to a leg.
“The morning of February the third, why I felt an impact on my leg and I told my Sergeant, ‘I been hit,’ and he said ‘I didn’t hear anything,’ and I said ‘neither did I, but I sure felt something,’” Van Eaton said of getting shot. “The rifle bullet went through a tree around 18-20 inches [away], and went through the buckle on my combat boot and into my leg.”
They cut the boot off and found a piece of metal. He still has the bullet.
“I consider that my life-saver. I ended up in the hospital and was there for the rest of the war,” Van Eaton said. “Fifty-percent of the men I went over with, are still over there, so I’m grateful for that guy being a bad shot. I’m sure he wasn’t aiming at my foot.”
According to Jack Cowen, honorary consul of France, thousands of people are on a waiting list to ensure the graves of troops who never made it home from WWII are always taken care of.
And for good reason, too. The men who fought during WWII were instrumental in liberating France from the grips of Nazi Germany.
From France, Van Eaton went to recover in a UK hospital for wounded GI’s. There, he helped keep troops healthy, first as an egg candler (when one looks for rotten eggs by holding them in front of a candle-backlit hole) and then as the most dedicated quality control specialist of the ice creamery that ever graced the hospital’s kitchen.
“I was in charge of the ice cream factory and I was so absolutely concerned about the value that I made it my personal responsibility to inspect every batch,” Van Eaton said. “Unfortunately, I got released from the hospital and that ended.”
After visiting some relatives in the UK, connected through marriage, Van Eaton returned to a jubilant hospital. The Nazis had surrendered and the war in Europe was over: Victory in Europe, VE-Day of 1945.
Van Eaton still returned to his company in Germany after ‘losing’ his orders on the return trip across the English Channel, and helped to clear houses of munitions or other dangerous leavings.
While many of his memories of the war hold violence and strife, there were happier points, too. Such as the quick $40 he made for riding ‘rodeo’ on a mare, hopping off prior to a barbed wire fence separating the horse field from the potato field. Or the time members of his company found out that the accelerant in Nazi artillery was much different than that which the US used.
“Instead of black powder, it was these sticks of explosive stuff and they found out if you light one end of it, it goes zipping through the air, and that was kind of like having a Fourth of July party,” he said. “I lit one of them, and mine ended up going ‘ziiip,’ right into the hay loft.”
Luckily, there was a two-man fire apparatus in a nearby town that was brought over to fight the barn fire.
“The interesting thing is, my sergeant went back to the battlefield and back to that town and the lady said, ‘what happened to that young guy who set my hayloft on fire?’ and he said, ‘you know what, he was in such great remorse about that that he went to the city of Los Angeles and became a firefighter.’”
After receiving two purple hearts and a rack of other awards and commendations, Van Eaton returned home. Though, just as many others from the various wars over the history of the US, Van Eaton had seen some terrible things that would last a lifetime.
“Of the several degrees of hell, my degree was probably a one or two compared to thousands of other guys. I got lucky. I got hit, but it was not life threatening and did not cause me to be unable to make a living. That guilt… I think that’s got a lot to do with these guys on skid row… who can’t live with themselves for what they’ve seen.
“I never talked about it for 15 to 20 years after,” he said.
He was discharged from service on Jan. 24, 1945 from Fort Lewis and returned to his uncle’s farm in Yakima, where he would find a letter waiting for him.
“There was a letter address to me on the mantle of the fireplace,” Van Eaton said. “It was an invitation to a wedding and I was a participant.”
So with haste, Van Eaton hitchhiked his way from Yakima to Hollywood to marry the lady of his dreams, Carol. The couple would spend the next 67 years together.
“I hitchhiked to the wedding, it was the 11th of February,” he said. “The thing was, I borrowed a suit from my brother and wore my uniform. I passed three Greyhound busses in the ditch up in the pass, and I probably would have been on one of them if I’d taken the bus.”
The wedding was lovely, Carol’s dress was made by the Hollywood clothing manufacturer where she worked, though Jack knew only the bride. Afterwards, he was asked by his father how he would take care of his new wife.
Not likely that he’d be able to get a job as a heavy machine gunner in post-WWII America, his new father-in-law had an idea of how he could provide for his new wife: firefighting.
Van Eaton took the exams and started soon thereafter.
“Then I ended up being a Los Angeles city fire fighter for 29 years, it was a great job,” he said.
But that’s not where Jack’s story ends. Van Eaton was about to head back to the cold.
From LA, he went on a bit of a tour, ending up in Alaska manning the Trans-Alaskan Pipeline. There, he learned how to solder and weather iron – making a representation of Alaska out of metal leavings of the Alaska pipeline itself.
He stayed there for many years until he finally moved to Washington. He and Carol had been planning to live in their mobile home in a quiet corner of Bothell temporarily. That was more than 20 years ago.
Van Eaton would head into the Bothell Fire Department, just to chat things up with the guys and gals of the local station. Eventually, he’d become the elected Fire Commissioner for Snohomish Department 10, in Bothell.
“I’m really pleased to be here to acknowledge [Jack’s] service to his country,” said Bob Van Horne, Chief of Fire District 10. “Jack has been a pleasure to work with, he’s a gentle man and I think if you were to look up Gentleman in the dictionary, there’d be a picture of Jack. He’s a man who loves his family, loved his wife, loves his country. He was a member of the fire service for many years and, you know, he has just done it right.”
When Carol passed in March of 2013, Jack was devastated. However, he persevered with the help of his family and a cross country road trip with his daughter and granddaughter, during which they visited some unique fire departments.
Fast forward to Feb. 17. City on the Hill Church, in Kenmore, was fully packed with family and friends of Jack Van Eaton. The Fire Department had come out in full dress blues, many of his fellow WWII vets came out from the Disabled Veterans local chapter, Chapter 13, and in the presence of his children and grandchildren, Jack Van Eaton was honored for his efforts during WWII.
“Dear Jack Van Eaton, Napoleon Boneparte created the Legion of Honour in 1802 to reward the great men who served the nation,” said Jack Cowen, honorary consul of France. “Through your bravery, your dedication, your supreme selflessness, your fight for the human conscience in peace, and your decisive contribution to the liberation of France and Europe, you are today one of these great men of the history of France.”
“We the French People know exactly what we owe to the American People, to the American Military, and to you personally,” Cowen said. “To liberty, to equality, to freedom, to the inherent dignity of every human being… I want to ensure you, Jack Van Eaton, that the flame of remembrance that the French people feed from generation to generation will never be extinguished.
“Jack Van Eaton, you are a hero, serving your country you helped liberate France. Seventy years later, on behalf of the nation of France, I pay you tribute and express our undying gratitude,” said Cowen, just before he pinned the medal on Van Eaton’s chest. The audience gave him a long standing ovation.
The night was not just about honoring a member of the Kenmore and Bothell communities, but about remembering those from the Greatest Generation, the sacrifices they made, and the positive impact they had on the entirety of the world.
“John Brokaw called this group the Greatest generation and Jack is part of that great generation,” Van Horne said. “Many of us stand here today because of the selfless acts that people like Jack and his generation did on behalf of the country. For us to be here and acknowledge that in some small way, not only address those still living but those that have passed.”
