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Fresno Bee , CA
Nov 11 2006
Living with war
Sam Kalfayan's 95 years have been shaped by the world's conflicts.
By Christina Vance / The Fresno Bee11/11/06 03:53:20
War stole Sam Kalfayan's name.
It blotted out his father's bespectacled face and his mother's
ability to speak of her dead children without crumbling. He believes
war's sinister influence contributed to his first wife's suicide.
But war spared Kalfayan's life. The World War II survivor, at 95, is
among Fresno's oldest veterans.
A trim man, Kalfayan still fits into his Army uniform. He continues
to wear a neat mustache, as he did when serving as interpreter to
Gen. George S. Patton more than 60 years ago.
Age has grayed Kalfayan's hair and sapped his strength. But his sense
of humor remains bright, even though health woes have kept him in bed
a lot lately.
He'd be younger, he jokes, except "my parents made the mistake of
bringing me into this world a little too early."
War and Kalfayan seemed destined to meet. Born in 1911, the boy was
named after a general - Sarkis, a saint revered by some Armenian
Christians.
He was born Sarkis Papazian in Samson, Turkey. His Armenian father,
two brothers and two sisters died in Turkish massacres, but the
3-year-old escaped with his mother to Cairo, Egypt.
The survivors lived in a second-story apartment without electricity,
hot water or a toilet. Kalfayan learned French at his Armenian
school, and he picked up Arabic and Turkish from other people.
Kalfayan said his mother moved to Wisconsin in 1921 to marry his
stepfather after meeting him through a mail matchmaking service. The
boy took his stepfather's last name, and his first name was
anglicized as "Sam." The family moved to the Visalia area a few years
later.
The Central Valley was good to Kalfayan. He grew up, married and
began to farm. Then World War II hit.
"During our days, we felt like we owed our country something," he
said. "I felt this country had done me a lot of favors."
Kalfayan tried to volunteer, but the government rebuffed him, saying
it was more important that he go on farming raisins. So Kalfayan sold
his 30 acres and returned to the Army. This time, they took him.
When the Army discovered the new recruit spoke several languages, it
sent him overseas to work as Patton's interpreter. The private got a
Jeep to follow the general and often stayed some distance from the
front.
But during the bloody Battle of the Bulge - which involved more than
1 million soldiers and claimed nearly 200,000 dead and injured -
Kalfayan fought alongside other soldiers. The enemy hid, and it was
hard to tell where shots came from - or went.
"I don't know whether I killed 10 guys or didn't shoot anybody," he
said.
Kalfayan was in his 30s when he served, and younger soldiers called
him "pop." But, although he served for three years, he left the Army
a buck private - the lowest-ranked soldier - because he occasionally
disobeyed orders. Each time, he would be demoted from private first
class back to private.
Once, he took an unauthorized side trip to Paris. Another time, he
wore a wool cap with earflaps that Patton had ordered to be
confiscated. The general said it made his soldiers look like sissies.
"The hell with Patton. I was being sensible," Kalfayan said.
Ironically, Kalfayan never performed interpreting duties for Patton
because of the famed general's manic pace in taking territory - even
if hundreds of lives were lost.
"Patton never stayed long enough to interrogate anybody. He just kept
pushing," Kalfayan said. "If he felt like taking it, to hell with
everything, he'd take it."
When the war ended, Kalfayan returned home to find his wife had
become mentally ill. Soon after, she killed herself. Kalfayan
believes the war, so many thousands of miles away, was partly to
blame.
"I spent three years in the war. I didn't get a scratch," he said.
"She became a war casualty."
After returning home, Kalfayan earned multiple academic degrees,
including a master's degree in agricultural economics. He worked as
manager for several California cities, such as San Jacinto and Desert
Hot Springs. He married again, outlived his second wife of 50 years,
and then married his current wife, Lena.
Like Kalfayan, many soldiers from the World War II generation
returned home and got on with life, said Bob Specht, deputy director
of Fresno's Legion of Valor Museum.
"That generation was very steely. They didn't bring up all that
stuff," he said.
At age 80, some soldiers talk about the carnage for the first time.
Specht said they're more apt to talk to another veteran than their
families. He's heard some of their stories himself.
"It's not a pleasant experience," he said. "A lot of them don't go to
war movies."
Living through any war "from 1776 on" unites people in a way others
can't understand, Specht said. The museum volunteers tease one
another and enjoy a bond - one that Kalfayan shared until recent ill
health kept the longtime docent from volunteering.
Right now, Kalfayan spends hours reading and talking to his wife. He
has no children, no other family members. And, he has no regrets.
"My genes will disappear. That's it. I don't give a damn," he said.
"Somebody said all good things come to an end. I'm at the end of it.
I have no complaints. I've lived a good life."
http://www.fresnobee.com/263/story/12655.html
Nov 11 2006
Living with war
Sam Kalfayan's 95 years have been shaped by the world's conflicts.
By Christina Vance / The Fresno Bee11/11/06 03:53:20
War stole Sam Kalfayan's name.
It blotted out his father's bespectacled face and his mother's
ability to speak of her dead children without crumbling. He believes
war's sinister influence contributed to his first wife's suicide.
But war spared Kalfayan's life. The World War II survivor, at 95, is
among Fresno's oldest veterans.
A trim man, Kalfayan still fits into his Army uniform. He continues
to wear a neat mustache, as he did when serving as interpreter to
Gen. George S. Patton more than 60 years ago.
Age has grayed Kalfayan's hair and sapped his strength. But his sense
of humor remains bright, even though health woes have kept him in bed
a lot lately.
He'd be younger, he jokes, except "my parents made the mistake of
bringing me into this world a little too early."
War and Kalfayan seemed destined to meet. Born in 1911, the boy was
named after a general - Sarkis, a saint revered by some Armenian
Christians.
He was born Sarkis Papazian in Samson, Turkey. His Armenian father,
two brothers and two sisters died in Turkish massacres, but the
3-year-old escaped with his mother to Cairo, Egypt.
The survivors lived in a second-story apartment without electricity,
hot water or a toilet. Kalfayan learned French at his Armenian
school, and he picked up Arabic and Turkish from other people.
Kalfayan said his mother moved to Wisconsin in 1921 to marry his
stepfather after meeting him through a mail matchmaking service. The
boy took his stepfather's last name, and his first name was
anglicized as "Sam." The family moved to the Visalia area a few years
later.
The Central Valley was good to Kalfayan. He grew up, married and
began to farm. Then World War II hit.
"During our days, we felt like we owed our country something," he
said. "I felt this country had done me a lot of favors."
Kalfayan tried to volunteer, but the government rebuffed him, saying
it was more important that he go on farming raisins. So Kalfayan sold
his 30 acres and returned to the Army. This time, they took him.
When the Army discovered the new recruit spoke several languages, it
sent him overseas to work as Patton's interpreter. The private got a
Jeep to follow the general and often stayed some distance from the
front.
But during the bloody Battle of the Bulge - which involved more than
1 million soldiers and claimed nearly 200,000 dead and injured -
Kalfayan fought alongside other soldiers. The enemy hid, and it was
hard to tell where shots came from - or went.
"I don't know whether I killed 10 guys or didn't shoot anybody," he
said.
Kalfayan was in his 30s when he served, and younger soldiers called
him "pop." But, although he served for three years, he left the Army
a buck private - the lowest-ranked soldier - because he occasionally
disobeyed orders. Each time, he would be demoted from private first
class back to private.
Once, he took an unauthorized side trip to Paris. Another time, he
wore a wool cap with earflaps that Patton had ordered to be
confiscated. The general said it made his soldiers look like sissies.
"The hell with Patton. I was being sensible," Kalfayan said.
Ironically, Kalfayan never performed interpreting duties for Patton
because of the famed general's manic pace in taking territory - even
if hundreds of lives were lost.
"Patton never stayed long enough to interrogate anybody. He just kept
pushing," Kalfayan said. "If he felt like taking it, to hell with
everything, he'd take it."
When the war ended, Kalfayan returned home to find his wife had
become mentally ill. Soon after, she killed herself. Kalfayan
believes the war, so many thousands of miles away, was partly to
blame.
"I spent three years in the war. I didn't get a scratch," he said.
"She became a war casualty."
After returning home, Kalfayan earned multiple academic degrees,
including a master's degree in agricultural economics. He worked as
manager for several California cities, such as San Jacinto and Desert
Hot Springs. He married again, outlived his second wife of 50 years,
and then married his current wife, Lena.
Like Kalfayan, many soldiers from the World War II generation
returned home and got on with life, said Bob Specht, deputy director
of Fresno's Legion of Valor Museum.
"That generation was very steely. They didn't bring up all that
stuff," he said.
At age 80, some soldiers talk about the carnage for the first time.
Specht said they're more apt to talk to another veteran than their
families. He's heard some of their stories himself.
"It's not a pleasant experience," he said. "A lot of them don't go to
war movies."
Living through any war "from 1776 on" unites people in a way others
can't understand, Specht said. The museum volunteers tease one
another and enjoy a bond - one that Kalfayan shared until recent ill
health kept the longtime docent from volunteering.
Right now, Kalfayan spends hours reading and talking to his wife. He
has no children, no other family members. And, he has no regrets.
"My genes will disappear. That's it. I don't give a damn," he said.
"Somebody said all good things come to an end. I'm at the end of it.
I have no complaints. I've lived a good life."
http://www.fresnobee.com/263/story/12655.html