Sunday, Jul. 20, 2008

How to make a 'Possum' grin

Marion O'Neal was a pretty fair country ballplayer in his day. He was a three-sport star at Mary Persons High School in Forsyth.

At 6-foot-2, he was a long, tall drink of water. His teammates called him "Possum" - not because he would roll over and play dead, as possums are prone to do - but because he would "grin like a possum."

I can't say I've ever seen a possum grin. However, I would have had a pretty good idea if I had been around this "Possum" a few weeks ago when he was reunited with a 1942 Mary Persons High class ring.

No, Marion O'Neal didn't recently graduate from high school at age 83. No, he didn't lose that 14-karat ring in the sand at the beach several years ago or hock it at a pawn shop for a little extra cash in his pocket.

In July 1943, his B-17 plane was shot down over Germany. After parachuting to safety, he was captured by German soldiers. One of them stuck a pistol to Marion's head and, in broken English, said: "For you, the war is over."

The enemy spared his life but seized his watch and high school ring. Marion spent almost two years in the famous POW camp, Stalag 17. For almost an entire year, his family did not know if he was dead or alive.

For most of the past 63 years Ð which have brought him six children, 11 grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren Ð Marion hasn't talked much about his POW experiences.

His family has heard only bits and pieces around the supper table or snatched a story or two between creaks of the rocking chair. But he did tell his baby sister, Jackie Meeks, one of the things that bothered him most was when they took away his class ring.

He never got it back.

He didn't care about the watch. He had won it in a poker game. But the ring carried great sentiment. He had graduated from the Forsyth high school a year earlier, and he wore that blue spinel stone with a gold, bulldog engraved on the side with great pride.

"He told me having that ring taken away from him made him madder than a wet hen," said Jackie.

Imagine a Possum being madder than a wet hen.

So a few family members got together and decided to do something about it. And they managed to keep it a closely guarded secret until a family reunion on Father's Day weekend.

Marion grew up one of 10 children in the small community of Dyas in southwest Monroe County. His father, Grady, worked in the sawmill and was a dairy farmer. Marion had a twin sister, Margaret, and went to grammar school in Culloden before attending Mary Persons.

He and Margaret got their senior rings in the fall of 1941. Their parents paid $12 each for them.

On Dec. 8, 1941, the day after the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and America was thrust into a world war, Marion and a friend caught the bus to Macon and enlisted in the Marines.

There was one problem. He was only 16 years old. That was too young to join without written permission from his parents, and Grady and Josephine O'Neal weren't about to give their consent.

Six months later, he received his diploma from Mary Persons High. He returned to the post office in Macon and joined the Army Air Corps, which later became the Air Force. This time, his parents signed the papers that allowed him to enlist.

When he went to basic training, his class ring went with him like an extension of his hand. He can't explain why he wore it so often. Although there were no regulations prohibiting jewelry, most military personnel were advised not to wear rings while working around aircraft. Men had lost fingers when their rings got caught in the machinery.

A year later, he found himself headed for England as a ball turret gunner on a B-17. On only his third mission, the plane was brought down over the German countryside by enemy fire. Three of the 10 crew members were killed. The others parachuted to the ground, and five were captured by German soldiers.

Marion and the tail gunner landed at the edge of a forest and were later taken prisoner west of the Rhine River near Bonn. They were shifted to work camps, city jails and later to a transit camp, Dulag, before spending the next two years at Stalag 17.

The only news he and his fellow prisoners received about the war was from the BBC reports on crystal radio sets they managed to build and hide from the Germans. Whenever they resisted authority, they found themselves in solitary confinement.

Yes, there were times when he wasn't sure if he would ever see the green grass of home again. He said the time he was the most terrified was when he was being transported on the autobahn, and the driver pulled onto a secluded road. A soldier got out of the vehicle and held a gun to his head as the driver snapped a picture with a camera. Marion was later told the propaganda photograph had appeared in a German newspaper.

His family was told he was missing in action. Then, after almost a year, they received word on May 14, 1944, which was Mother's Day, that he was being held in a POW camp.

"It was the best Mother's Day for my mother," said Jackie. "We knew he was still alive."

By the time he returned home a year later, his family had moved from Monroe County to Warner Robins. It was there he later met his wife, Norma, who was in town visiting her sister.

He moved around during his military career but eventually settled in Warner Robins. He worked at Robins Air Force Base, taught ROTC at Warner Robins High School and helped start the alternative school in Houston County.

He and Norma have lived in Powder Springs for the past 13 years. His twin sister, Margaret, died in 1990.

He had never talked much about his prisoner of war experience until he joined a POW support group, and then only in bits and pieces.

Then came the idea for the ring.

Jackie enlisted the help of her daughter, Dana Lindsay, who contacted Mary Persons principal Jim Finch. From there, Dana got in touch with Pat Busby, who was the school's senior sponsor in charge of rings, caps and gowns. Busby told her it would be an honor for the school to assist and "provide a ring for a gentleman who served his country."

Dana contacted the manufacturer, the Herff Jones Co., and began dealing with Rick Shrewsbury, a company representative out of Lilburn.

Shrewsbury was especially touched by the family's request. He told Dana that his uncle had been captured by the Germans during World War II but had been able to escape on the train that was taking him to the prison camp.

He provided the ring Ð a replica of the one Marion had worn in 1942-43 Ð at no cost to the family.

"When people heard the story, they all got on the bandwagon and rode with us," said Dana. "Every step of the way, everybody wanted to do something."

The only glitch was estimating his ring size. Since it was a surprise, family members had to guess his size at 10.5. (He wears a size 12.) So, until the ring can be expanded, he is having to wear it on his right pinkie.

Then again, how many 83-year-old men do you know that still wear their high school rings?

"When they gave it to me, I was speechless," he said.

He may have been speechless, but, gosh, did that Possum grin.