Gordon Dillow gldillow@aol.com

July 30, 2002

By GORDON DILLOW
The Orange County Register

He's an old man now, frail and sick and lying in a bed in an Orange County nursing home. But there was a time when he was a friend to millions of Americans, a man who brought laughter to countless guys who had precious little to laugh about.

His name is Bill Mauldin - yes, the Bill Mauldin. And now he's in need of some help from his buddies of long ago.

For those too young to remember, Bill Mauldin was one of the most famous Americans of World War II. Starting out as an Army infantry private who drew military-life cartoons on the side, he later became a full- time cartoonist for Stars and Stripes, The GI newspaper. His cartoons also appeared in syndication in newspapers across the United States.

Mauldin's two main characters were a couple of dogface infantrymen named Willie and Joe. Dirty, unshaven, squatting in muddy foxholes and griping all the while, they represented the millions of ordinary citizen-soldiers for whom the war wasn't a path to glory, bot rather a hard, miserable juob that simply had to be done. And yet, like so many GIs, Willie and Joe somehow found humor in even the toughest situations.

High-ranking officers, who were frequently the targets of Willie and Joe's foxhole jokes and gripes, may not have approved of Mauldin's anti-authoritarian outlook and the stand-up-for-the-little-guy tone. But ordinary GIs loved Willie and Joe - and love Bill Mauldin for creating them.

So did millions of other Americans. Sgt. Bill Mauldin became one of the most popular cartoonists in American history, and in 1945, at age 23, he was awarded the Pulitzer Prize.

After the war Mauldin was a political cartoonist for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch and later the Chicago Sun-Times, where he was noted for his biting cartoon attacks on racial segregation and the Ku Klux Klan. He covered the war in Korea, won another Pulitzer in 1959 and published a number of books. But he was never again quite as famous as he'd been in World War II. He retired in 1991.

And now, at age 80, he's fallen on hard times. Severely burned in a household accident while visiting here from his native New Mexico last year, Mauldin's physical health is waning - and perhaps even worse, his mental capacities are diminished. Lying on his bed in the Orange County nursing home, he sometimes goes days without speaking, locked away in his own world.

Don't misunderstand: The famous Bill Mauldin hasn't been abandoned. Thrice married, with eight children, he has family members who love and support him, and he's in a good private facility. But he needs something more.

That's where his old Army buddies of long ago, even ones who never met him personally, can help. And maybe you are one of them.

Staff members at the nursing home have noticed that when Bill has been visited by World War II veterans, especially those who served with him in the fight against Nazi Germany, he seems to light up. World War II was the most important time of his life, and it's as if hearing stories of those days in Sicily and Italy and France, even from a stranger, somehow reconnects him to the world. He may or may not be able to talk back, but for those moments his eyes come alive again.

The problem is, Bill’s family members and health-care providers haven’t been able to arrange for enough World War II guys to visit him. They don’t want flocks of people coming in to see him unannounced – that’s why I’m not saying which care facility he’s in – but they would like World War II vets to volunteer for scheduled visits. They think it would improve Bill’s life.

So with their permission, I’m making this request: If you’re a World War II veteran, especially if you served in the European Theater, and your willing to spend a few minutes with Bill Mauldin, give me call at the number below.

Or if you’re just someone who remembers him and liked his cartoons, and you want to send him a card, set it to me care of the Register and I’ll make sure he gets it.

Once again, I don’t want to make it sound worse than it is. According to his family members, Bill was always a proud man, and he’s had a long and colorful and successful life. He wouldn’t want anyone’s pity.

Still, the GIs of World War II were always important to him. And it seems only right that before he leaves this life, Bill Mauldin should get to spend a little time with the guys who used to be Willie and Joe.

Spirit of a generation is returned to cartoonist

August 6, 2002

By GORDON DILLOW
The Orange County Register

Last week I wrote a column about Bill Mauldin, the Pulitzer Prize-winning GI cartoonist of World War II and creator of the famous "dogface" infantrymen characters Willie and Joe.

The gist of it was that Mr. Mauldin, now 80, is in an Orange County nursing home, failing in both body and mind.

Although he's usually unable to speak, family members had noticed that his eyes lighted up when people talked to him about the old days in World War II - and in the column they asked if any World War II veterans out there might be willing to help him out by visiting him.

Well, the response to that request has been enough to break your heart.

Since that column appeared, hundreds of World War II veterans, men and women in their late 70s and 80s and even 90s, have contacted me to volunteer to visit Bill Mauldin; hundreds more sent cards and letters and e-mails wishing him well.

And while many of those aging veterans joke that they have a hard time remembering what they had for breakfast, they all remember with utter clarity, and often in voices choked with emotion, Mauldin cartoons from 60 years ago that brought them a laugh when they were riding in a tank in France or sitting in a foxhole in Sicily.

Earl Brown, 84, of Dana Point probably speaks for all of them: "Bill Mauldin kept our morale up and helped keep us alive. He's my hero."

So for the past week, in ones and twos, some of those World War II vets have been going to the nursing home where Bill Mauldin is being cared for. (I can't identify it publicly, but it's a good one.)

Some bring tattered copies of Mauldin's books, or yellowed clips of his cartoons, or old photos from the war. And they talk to him about when they were young together and busy saving the world.

It's helping. The nursing home director told me Monday that Mr. Mauldin has been responding more to those old veterans' visits than to anything else in months - not by speaking, but with a light in his eyes and a smile on his face.

There's a symmetry to that, a rightful balance. A lifetime ago, when they needed it most, Bill Mauldin put smiles on their faces. Now, when he needs it most, they're putting a smile on his.

I've delivered the cards and e-mails to the nursing home, where they will be read to Mr. Mauldin by staff and visitors. I'm still working on returning all the calls and messages and setting up visits, so I hope you'll bear with me on that.

(I should note that Bill Mauldin isn't alone in needing visits. All our World War II veterans are old now, many in failing health, so if you have a chance to spend time with one of them, take it before the opportunity is lost.)

Meanwhile, Mr. Mauldin's family members - and I suspect, in his heart, Bill Mauldin himself - want to thank all the people who called and wrote and cared. I want to thank you, too, especially you men and women of World War II who stepped up to help a buddy.

What they say is right: You really were - and are - America's greatest generation.