Jim Herrald was supposed to graduate from East Bank High School in 1943. He was supposed to walk across the stage in a cap and gown to accept his diploma. He would hear his family cheering above the polite applause.
Jim Herrald was supposed to graduate from East Bank High School in 1943. He was supposed to walk across the stage in a cap and gown to accept his diploma. He would hear his family cheering above the polite applause. He would smile proudly for pictures after the ceremony and probably go out for dinner with mom and dad, or maybe to a graduation party with friends.
It didn't happen.
Like many young men of his day, he left high school to fight a war.
He served in the turbulent North Atlantic, where German subs sank an average of one U.S. ship every day. He served with amphibious forces in the South Pacific during the main landing on Okinawa.
In 1948, he re-enlisted. Frozen in place by the outbreak of the Korean War, he spent nearly five years on a ship on the Great Lakes, working his way up to chief engineer.
In 1952, he got his high school equivalent diploma in New York state.
He worked in Rochester as a power plant engineer for General Motors, then moved to the Washington, D.C., area and spent the rest of his working life as a maintenance manager for high-rise office and apartment buildings, including the notorious Watergate complex.
Through all those years, something nagged at him. "I felt sad I didn't have a normal diploma," he said. "My heart ached for it."
This spring, after 65 years, Herrald got his heart's desire.
During a GED graduation ceremony May 30 at Capital High School, he walked across the stage in a cap and gown and received the ceremonial diploma.
"It was the highlight of my life," he said on the phone from his Sterling, Va., home. "If I'd had a hanky, I might have tried to use it. I was the only veteran. They called me up separately. I received a standing ovation."
Earlier this year, Herrald read where Maine had awarded a diploma to a World War II veteran who enlisted and missed his high school graduation. He wondered if West Virginia offered a similar program.
"I called the Kanawha County Board of Education. They sent me an application. I sent them a copy of my discharge."
Soon, he received a framed high school diploma. That wasn't enough. "I wanted to go to a ceremony," he said.
Kanawha County Schools, through Adult Basic Education, arranged for him to participate in the annual GED ceremony at Capital High. "Shelley Capito talked. I had my picture taken with her. It all felt pretty good."
He can thank the West Virginia Veterans Recognition Bill. "The bill states that veterans who fought in wars, if they left school to join the Armed Forces, should be awarded a high school diploma," explained Laura Wilcox, the county's Adult Basic Education coordinator. "He had his GED diploma, but he'd never attended a graduation ceremony."
Jim Herrald was supposed to graduate from East Bank High School in 1943. He was supposed to walk across the stage in a cap and gown to accept his diploma. He would hear his family cheering above the polite applause. He would smile proudly for pictures after the ceremony and probably go out for dinner with mom and dad, or maybe to a graduation party with friends.
It didn't happen.
Like many young men of his day, he left high school to fight a war.
He served in the turbulent North Atlantic, where German subs sank an average of one U.S. ship every day. He served with amphibious forces in the South Pacific during the main landing on Okinawa.
In 1948, he re-enlisted. Frozen in place by the outbreak of the Korean War, he spent nearly five years on a ship on the Great Lakes, working his way up to chief engineer.
In 1952, he got his high school equivalent diploma in New York state.
He worked in Rochester as a power plant engineer for General Motors, then moved to the Washington, D.C., area and spent the rest of his working life as a maintenance manager for high-rise office and apartment buildings, including the notorious Watergate complex.
Through all those years, something nagged at him. "I felt sad I didn't have a normal diploma," he said. "My heart ached for it."
This spring, after 65 years, Herrald got his heart's desire.
During a GED graduation ceremony May 30 at Capital High School, he walked across the stage in a cap and gown and received the ceremonial diploma.
"It was the highlight of my life," he said on the phone from his Sterling, Va., home. "If I'd had a hanky, I might have tried to use it. I was the only veteran. They called me up separately. I received a standing ovation."
Earlier this year, Herrald read where Maine had awarded a diploma to a World War II veteran who enlisted and missed his high school graduation. He wondered if West Virginia offered a similar program.
"I called the Kanawha County Board of Education. They sent me an application. I sent them a copy of my discharge."
Soon, he received a framed high school diploma. That wasn't enough. "I wanted to go to a ceremony," he said.
Kanawha County Schools, through Adult Basic Education, arranged for him to participate in the annual GED ceremony at Capital High. "Shelley Capito talked. I had my picture taken with her. It all felt pretty good."
He can thank the West Virginia Veterans Recognition Bill. "The bill states that veterans who fought in wars, if they left school to join the Armed Forces, should be awarded a high school diploma," explained Laura Wilcox, the county's Adult Basic Education coordinator. "He had his GED diploma, but he'd never attended a graduation ceremony."
Herrald, 84, grew up in Crown Hill, a small coal-mining town in the Upper Kanawha Valley. In January 1942, still too young to enlist, he left high school to join the National Youth Administration, a federal Depression-era program that trained young people for jobs related to national defense.
He worked in a shipyard in Norfolk. In November 1942, when the draft age dropped to 18, he returned to Crown Hill, hitchhiked to Charleston and enlisted in the Coast Guard.
"It was rough out there," he said of his stint in the North Atlantic. "You could stand on the beach in Norfolk and see our ships being torpedoed."
From there, he transferred to amphibious forces in the South Pacific, where he operated Higgins landing boats.
"Off of Okinawa, in the boats waiting to go in and discharge the Marines, we had to be careful," he said. "Japanese swimmers loaded with ammunition would swim from the beach to the landing crafts, pull the pin on a grenade and toss it into our boats. If you heard a little noise in the water, you'd better look and be ready. We had a 30-caliber machine gun on board."
Back in the States by December 1945, he met Violet, a junior hostess in the USO, and married her in Boston. They moved to New York state in 1947. "Coming out of the Depression of the 1930s, we had nothing. No diploma. No trade. No education. And I had a wife, so I re-enlisted. A lot of us guys did."
After his discharge in '52, he focused on improving his viability as an engineer. "I went to every school I could possibly go to," he said. "I earned the equivalent of an associate degree in engineering. I've been told by colleges that I could turn in my certificate and be granted an associate degree."
But the missing high school diploma still haunted him.
He moved eventually to Virginia. Equipped with a first-class operating engineer's license, he worked as a building engineer and superintendent. In 1975, the year after President Nixon's resignation over the Watergate scandal, he started a three-year stint as chief engineer at the Watergate hotel, office and apartment complex.
He retired in 1965.
After 57 years together, Violet died. He remarried six years ago. His wife, Aimee, accompanied him to Charleston for the graduation ceremony.
The diploma presentation wasn't his only moment in the spotlight on Memorial Day weekend. "Our church here had me up on stage as the only veteran of World War II," he said. "I got a standing ovation. I've been getting so much attention lately, I can't handle it all."
One more thing, he said. "If anybody from East Bank remembers me, I would like to hear from them."
Jim Herrald's address: 46565 Harry Byrd Highway, Apt. 159, Sterling, VA 20164.
To contact staff writer Sandy Wells, use e-mail or call 348-5173.
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interrupted the US Open for this one. :) I am very
proud of you Uncle Jimmy. You are one very special person. And thank you for your service to our country!
Bill Herrald and family
And I thank you from the bottom of my heart for every thing you did and sacrficed for our Country