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About the Need
meet a resident
Thomas Haass
Veterans Homes of Wyoming
 Thomas Haass had been in the U.S. Marine Corps for almost seven years before that fateful
day when Japanese aircraft attacked Pearl Harbor without warning. Just one year later,
he earned the first of many honors he would receive for exceptional valor. Assigned to
the 6th Regiment of the 2nd Division of the U.S. Marines, Mr. Haass found himself in Guadalcanal
in January 1943, just as the Japanese were retreating off the island. While working to
complete their mission of capturing enemy soldiers and commandeering their equipment, the
regiment stumbled across a manned Japanese machine gun bunker. Mr. Haass lost two fellow
soldiers immediately to the resulting gunfire, and he himself was struck by a bullet in
the left leg. "I was bleeding like hell," remembers Mr. Haass. "They took me by meat wagon
to a nearby hospital, then airlifted me out to a hospital in New Hebrides, where it took
me eight weeks to recuperate." For his heroism and bravery, Mr. Haass received the first
of three Purple Hearts.
Mr. Haass was awarded his second Purple Heart during the invasion of Saipan in June 1944.
He took some shrapnel to the head, which broke his eardrum. Sadly, it was friendly fire
that caused the injury but Mr. Haass stayed the course and was back in battle again two
months later.
What happened next-a miracle by any standard-makes Mr. Haass thankful but also perplexed
by his own good fortune. The Japanese had a stronghold in Garapan, the chief town on the
island of Saipan, and Mr. Haass' regiment was assigned to take the town. As he and his
fellow soldiers were advancing down into Garapan, Mr. Haass was shot in the head by a sniper.
The bullet traveled through his helmet, entered his skull just above his left eye and exited
near his left ear. Unconscious and bleeding heavily, Mr. Haass was immediately moved to
the rear by medics, then airlifted to a hospital ship stationed off the coast. After hours
of surgery, doctors installed a permanent seven-inch metal plate inside Mr. Haass' head,
a procedure that saved his life. By V-JDay, Mr. Haass had been awarded his third Purple
Heart.
As one might imagine, telling his story wasn't easy for Mr. Haass. "This is the first time
I've thought about any of this for a very long time," he says, with deep emotion and a
heavy heart. At 87 years old, Mr. Haass tries to focus on the happier times of his life-fishing
along the North Platte River, seeing the country by tour bus with his late wife, fixing
an engine at his post-war job as an auto mechanic. Today he likes to read, tries to exercise
every morning and takes time to get outside, moving around by walker.
Mr. Haass is a resident of the Veterans Home of Wyoming, a state in which $65 per month-or
$2.10 per day-is allotted for personal discretionary spending. That's why a few extra dollars
would go a long way in helping Mr. Haass and his fellow residents afford clothing, personal
hygiene products and items from the Home's "canteen." But beyond providing for the basic
daily needs of the residents, additional money could help provide hobby shop supplies,
indigent dental and eye care, an activity bus and more-all of which would make a significant
difference in the quality of life of these honored veterans.
Raymond Boyce
Thompson-Hood Veterans Center
Wilmore, Kentucky
 Raymond "Ray" Boyce is an extraordinary man with an incredible story to tell. Private First
Class Boyce was among 32 young men assigned to the Big Red One-the First Infantry Division
of the U.S. Army. They were brave men, trained for arduous frontline battle and survival
in the roughest conditions. As dawn rose on June 6, 1944, Mr. Boyce and his fellow soldiers
descended their landing craft for an all-out assault on the Normandy coast of northern
France-the largest seaborne invasion in history-designed to force the Germans out of France
during World War II. The choppy water along the coastline was unforgiving, but the gunfire
was more so.
"Of the 32 of us in my unit, only eight of us made it alive to the beach," remembers Mr.
Boyce, "and four of us were wounded. My right hip was shot off-they later found seven machine
gun bullets there-and I had to crawl through the water to the beach." Mr. Boyce somehow
made it to shore, where he hunkered down for two days and two nights as bullets whizzed
over his head. "I hid on my stomach, just hugging ol' mother earth. The gunfire around
me was so low that it shot the straps right off my backpack. I stayed put, stayed low,
and said a few choice words, but somehow I made it out alive."
Mr. Boyce lost a lot of blood on the beach at Normandy, but managed to stay conscious until,
on the morning of June 8, "four great big guys put me on a cot and lifted me off the beach." It
wasn't until he heard them speaking English that Mr. Boyce realized he was safe, in American
hands. He was transported to a hospital in England, where he stayed for four months before
returning stateside to Springfield, Missouri, where he spent another 12 months hospitalized
in traction to help heal the hip correctly. Not long after Mr. Boyce left the hospital,
he was honored in a simple ceremony by General Dwight D. Eisenhower, who personally pinned
the distinguished Purple Heart on Mr. Boyce's military dress uniform. In addition to the
Purple Heart, Mr. Boyce has garnered a dozen or so honors from the U.S. Army, including
the Silver Star, Bronze Star, Combat Infantry Medal, Good Conduct Medal and Oak Leaf Cluster.
"As my buddy used to say, 'War is hell on earth,'" adds Mr. Boyce. "I'm proud to have served
but it's not something I think I'd ever want to do again."
Today Mr. Boyce gets around in a wheelchair and enjoys playing card games and Bingo with
the other residents of the Thompson-Hood Veterans Center. He's seemingly content with his
life at the home, where they provide "three hots and a cot" and make sure his physical,
medical and emotional needs are met.
Arturo Martinez
New Mexico Veterans Center
At Truth or Consequences
 The nine-hole municipal golf course in Truth or Consequences allows residents of the New
Mexico State Veterans' Home to play free of charge, but they're required to use their own
balls, tees and clubs. That's a tall order when you only have $1.45 a day to spend on everything
from clothing, hygiene products, sodas, cigarettes and other personal items. "My daughter
bought me a driver, and my sister bought me some irons," says Arturo Martinez, a resident
of the home, "but most of the time, I can't afford to buy tees and balls." So Mr. Martinez
saves what little he has left at the end of each day, just so he can enjoy the very game
that was once a major part of his life.
Starting out as a young caddie and working his way up through the course ranks, Mr. Martinez
went on to manage the University of New Mexico's South 9, all the while working toward
perfecting his own game. He joined the U.S. Navy in 1950 and was shipped overseas to Korea
almost immediately. A radar man on the USS Princeton aircraft carrier, he served 18 months
in the military and received an honorable discharge while recuperating in the naval hospital
at Camp Pendleton. Over the years, Mr. Martinez has been fitted with a steel shoulder,
artificial hips and femurs and a pair of steel discs in his back, but his love of the game
never waned.
"For me, golf is such good mental and physical exercise," says Mr. Martinez. "And because
the Center is situated on 15 or 20 acres of land, I'm able to get out and hit a few balls
around. But our personal spending allowance makes for very tight living."
The New Mexico State Veterans' Home-which recently fought and won to have its residents'
personal spending allowance raised from $30 to $45 a month-plays an important role in Mr.
Martinez' life. Beyond having a place to hang his hat, Mr. Martinez feels a great sense
of security at the home. "I watch the news and see what's going on around the country," he
says. "I feel safe away from the hustle and bustle of all that. The world's problems seem
to disappear when I'm here. But as long as I only have a buck or so to spend each day,
I'll always have worries. I don't think $75 or $80 a month would be out of the question," Mr.
Martinez adds. "We just have these last few years to enjoy what we can."
Grover Sears
Charlotte Hall Veterans Home,
Maryland
The year was 1941. Japan had just attacked America's Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii,
bringing the United States into a world war that had been raging for more than two years.
Countless brave and determined young men from around the country were being drafted for
service, and 27-year-old Grover Sears was among them. In fact, he was one of the first
draftees from Washington, D.C.
Following short stints at Fort Myers and Petersburg, Virginia, Mr. Sears headed straight
for 12 weeks of basic training at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. "At that time," recalls Mr.
Sears, "the military was sending its troops back and forth around the country so enemy
spies wouldn't really know where we were going." So Mr. Sears criss-crossed the United
States, finally ending up at Fort MacDowell in California. He knew it wouldn't be long
before he was shipped to the conflict in the Pacific, and within weeks he was headed to
the Scoffield Barracks in Hawaii, headquarters of the U.S. Army 25th Infantry Division.
It was there that Mr. Sears joined his unit and received the intensive artillery training
he would need for the battles ahead.
During his three-and-a-half years in the service, Mr. Sears spent time in Guadalcanal,
the Philippines and Bougainville Island and earned a host of medals, including five stars
for battles and invasions and the Good Conduct Medal. Despite the passing of time, Mr.
Sears remembers his time spent in the Pacific vividly-from friends he met and pranks he
pulled to missions he survived, all tinged with the unforgettable sights and sounds of
war. "Our ship was among 80 or so in a convoy headed for Lingayen Gulf in the Philippines," recalls
Mr. Sears. "The 161st Infantry went south, the 35th went north and the 27th went to Okinawa,
where, sadly, a lot of men lost their lives. Once we landed, it was my job to transport
equipment-guns, ammunition and other supplies-to the set-up area, wherever that happened
to be at the time. I remember having to drive a fully loaded truck around the Philippines
for 104 hours, non-stop. If I pulled over to take a break or try to get some sleep, the
MPs made me keep moving, just so the Japanese wouldn't hit me."
Sears admits he was one of the lucky few to come out of the Army with no wartime injuries,
except for a broken finger he sustained from a spinning tire. But Mr. Sears wonders how
he could be so fortunate, especially when he recalls one "smart trick" he pulled with a
bunch of guys. "It was 1945, the war was mostly over, and me and a few guys went up to
Bladey Pass-where the last battle of the Philippines was fought-to hunt for souvenirs.
The Air Force had bombed the area and there was hardly a limb on a tree. The trunks were
poking out of the ground like sharp sticks. We ran into a Japanese soldier up there who
was so skinny and ill that he couldn't even raise his gun, but I'm sure he'd have shot
us if he could. Maybe that wasn't such a smart thing for us boys to do."
One year almost to the day after his discharge from the Army, Mr. Sears was struck by an
automobile, which put him in the hospital for weeks with a crushed leg and arm. He's quick
to point out the irony in that.
Today, Mr. Sears resides comfortably at the state of Maryland's Charlotte Hall Veterans
Home, where he feels his needs are well met. He doesn't do much-his right hand is almost
paralyzed and he's mostly wheelchair-bound-but he goes on the occasional shopping trip
and enjoys visits from his daughter every two weeks. In fact, the satisfaction level among
most residents is fairly high. According to Fred Shroyer, State Director of Charlotte Hall
Veterans Home, the state and federal funding his home receives ensures that his residents
have excellent medical care, living quarters, meals and activities. But a little extra
money from private sources could help pave and grade a nearby walking trail, build a resident
garden, renovate several common areas, install power doors at the home's second entrance
and fund other such projects. As for Mr. Sears, he is happy at Charlotte Hall, despite
being on the waiting list for a private room. "I have a great roommate, and he'd do anything
for me," adds Mr. Sears. "But I just want a private room." A small request, but one that
could make a big difference in Mr. Sears.
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