Rest in peace ‘Speed,’ you’ve earned it
After years of interviewing war veterans, it always amazed me how these people could act normally after what they experienced.
One more of those veterans, Elvin “Speed” Homan, died May 25 at age 95. To say “Speed” lived an interesting life is an understatement. But it wasn’t until he became involved in reunions of his old combat buddies that he began to open up publicly about what he actually experienced. He wasn’t alone either. Most World War II veterans never told much about their war experiences, even to their families.
Homan was one of the youngest members of his unit, Company C, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division, also known as the “Screaming Eagles.” He was 18 in 1943.
Seventy-five years ago, in the early morning of June 6, 1944, Homan and thousands of other Allied paratroopers dropped into occupied France as the invasion of Normandy began. They were the early participants on the famous day known as D-Day.
In less than a year, the war in Europe ended with the complete defeat of Nazi Germany. But in that year, Homan led a charmed life. He survived D-Day, while many of his fellow paratroopers did not. Many still lie in the military cemeteries overlooking the beaches of Normandy.
Homan also survived his second combat jump into Holland during Operation Market Garden, a military disaster for the Allies. As a result, Homan was nearly killed twice in jumping out of his heavily-damaged aircraft, and then surviving the jump that left him unconscious. When he woke up, he was staring down the barrel of a German’s gun. He spent the next eight months as a prisoner of war.
He survived that ordeal as well only to be freed by the advancing Russians and told to find his own way home. His harrowing journey to get to friendlier Allied lines took him into Poland, Russia to the Black Sea, then to North Africa, to Italy and finally to the United States.
Homan’s military adventures continued when he was called back into service in Korea, where his combat experience was badly needed, especially early in that war.
His adventures are of what action novels are made, yet he actually lived them.
I first met Elvin and his wife, Rosa, in 1994 on the 50th anniversary of his D-Day experience. It was an article tying into Veterans Day that year. I did a series of stories on the 50th anniversaries of the war (1991-95), and the Homans were among the group. As I noted then, he still had that jauntiness of a paratrooper.
I later talked to them about V-E (Victory in Europe) Day on its 50th anniversary in May 1995. Rosa also described what it was like on the home front during the war.
“Speed” always liked to talk about his 101st Airborne buddies and often stopped at The Chronicle’s office whenever he came back from his latest reunion.
It was 10 years later in 2004 that I wrote a column of Homan’s 101st Airborne reunion. But “Speed” didn’t want to talk about old war stories. He wanted to talk about today’s 101st Airborne paratroopers. He had nothing but praise for today’s airborne warriors, while they, in return, were in awe of the paratroopers of 1944.
Homan went on to raise a family of five children, and all four of his sons served in the military. As his obituary stated: “Elvin set a strong military standard for all of his family.”
He might have been best remembered after the war as a long-time employee for Glencoe Mills and later as a custodian for the Glencoe School District, where he worked for 22½ years.
His obituary published in last week’s paper described him as “a kind, gentle and generous person.” After all he had been through, how’s that possible? He was typical of “The Greatest Generation.”
Looking down at him in his casket, surrounded by many memorabilia from his war years, “Speed” looked at peace. After all, he earned it.
Rich Glennie was the editor of The Chronicle for 23 years. He retired Aug. 1, 2014.
