HOLSTEIN, Iowa -- France Wanberg extends a hand and shows his 1938 class ring, still looking good, like Wanberg, who graduated from Galva High School in Galva, Iowa, 80 years ago this spring.
Wanberg and his ring serve as historical talking points as former Blue Devils convene for the Galva High School Alumni Reunion on Saturday at the Holstein Country Club.
How many get-togethers feature a 97-year-old as one of the speakers? This one showcases a man, who, by luck, providence, or a combination of the two, remains stitched to the fabric of this community, a town he served as child, high schooler, graduate, post master, mayor and more.
"I've had a good life," Wanberg says. "No complaints. I've had a very good life."
Wanberg, a resident of the Char-Mac Assisted Living complex in Holstein, lays out his memories and commendations on a spring morning, showing the 1938 class composite featuring 20 members of the senior class, of which, Wanberg believes, he's the last left standing.
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"As a second-grader, we got a big snow and our teacher warned us to not get on the roof of the bus barn at recess," he says. "I went outside at recess, climbed to the roof because the snow was so high and jumped off."
When other children ran inside at the end of recess, Wanberg realized he was stuck in the snow. A fellow student was dispatched to extricate him. "I spent the rest of the day sitting in the corner of the classroom," he says with a slap of his knee.
In the winter of 1936, Wanberg recalled having no school for four straight weeks as Old Man Winter showed his strength. Other memories involve riding in a wooden school bus and dropping his horn's mouthpiece while practicing in his family's outhouse, of all places.
In the midst of the Great Depression, there wasn't much celebrating after commencement exercises culminated eight decades ago. Wanberg's mother baked a cake and they had coffee and punch with his parents and a grandmother. And that was that.
Five years after his graduation, Wanberg found excitement, not that he sought it. The U.S. Army Air Corps member was aboard the Cape San Juan, a troop ship, as it moved into position for battle in the South Pacific in November 1943. On the morning of Veterans Day, a Japanese torpedo struck the vessel. Wanberg and hundreds of others, upon hearing orders to abandon ship, climbed down a rope ladder and swam to a life raft.
"The rafts were supposed to hold 15 men and we had 40 in them," he says.
Wanberg and his shipmates floated the rest of that day and all night in shark-infested waters while waiting for rescuers who came the following morning in a U.S. Navy Destroyer, the USS McCalla, which was joined by a mine sweeper, a submarine chaser and the USS Dempsey.
"I climbed up a ladder to the deck of the McCalla and one of the Navy sailors was on the deck with a rifle," Wanberg says. "When one of the men asked what he was doing with a rifle, he said, 'Shooting sharks.'"
Wanberg was shipped to a hospital in the Fiji Islands, where he was treated for temporary blindness and a burning in his eyes, caused by a mixture of oil and salt water. "I have always had the greatest respect for the U.S. Navy for their rescue," he concludes.
An estimated 16 men were killed in the initial attack on the Cape San Juan. Another 115 or so drowned after abandoning the sinking ship.
Wanberg spent time in the hospital before heading to Australia, New Guinea and the Philippines by war's end, working to track enemy bombers. He reached home in September of 1945, and his mother fainted when he walked into their farmhouse northwest of Galva. "For a time, I think my parents believed I was dead," he says.
Wanberg worked for Sioux Honey for a time in Sioux City, then used the G.I. Bill to attend Morningside College, whereupon he met and later wed the former Helen Ling from Sheldon, Iowa. They raised four children and enjoyed 65 years of marriage that ended with her death in March 2014. Together, he says, they visited all 50 states.
"I was postmaster at Galva for 27 years and served two terms as mayor," he says.
These days, he sits at Char-Mac, greets visitors and shares tidbits of his history and local lore. He says he receives incredible care from the staff and remains most excited about Sunday dinners here, which come with homemade pie.
"I also like to sit outside when it's nice out," Wanberg says, gazing toward Highway 20 and a sea of black soil and emerging corn. "I look south from here, over the rolling hills and watch the corn and soybeans. Iowa is a pretty state, you realize."
He should know. France Wanberg has called it home for nearly a century.
"I have three loves," he says on the eve of a rarity this Memorial Day weekend, an 80th class reunion. "I love my wife and my family. I love my community and my church. And, I love my country. The war was terrible, but the good Lord protected me. I made it home."