Frank Wetzel’s journalism career began while he was a soldier at the end of World War II. The Bremerton native, whose illustrious journalism career included writing the preeminent history of the city’s World War II era, penned an article describing the horrors of the Holocaust.

In Sunday’s Kitsap Sun, I chronicle Wetzel’s life from a teen to his penning “Victory Gardens and Barrage Balloons.” HIs first byline? The July 31, 1945 edition of the Bremerton Sun. The topic? Wetzel’s impressions of the Buchenwald concentration camp.

The thing that impresses me most is the maturity of his writing. We’re often told journalists write the first draft of history, but Wetzel’s story here, documenting the tragedies of the Nazi death camps, feels like it could have been written yesterday.

Here’s the entire story he wrote:

Horrors of Buchenwald Told In Letter From PFC Wetzel

The Bremerton Sun, Tuesday, July 31, 1945

(The following letter to the editor was written by PFC Frank Wetzel, 19, son of Mr. and Mrs. Scott Wetzel, 1606 Gregory Way, who is now in Bavaria with the army. Pvt. Wetzel graduated mid-year from Bremerton high school to enter ASTP at the University of Idaho. After finishing there, he was sent to Buckley field in Denver, then made a plane dispatcher and transfer to Mississippi. He was then transferred to the infantry in Georgia and from there left the State for active duty in Europe where he fought with Patton’s Third army in the 76th division—editor.)

By Pfc. Frank R. Wetzel

SOMEWHERE IN EUROPE — I just returned from Buchenwald and I feel what I saw should be common knowledge to every citizen of the U.S. in order to more fully understand the cruel and sadistic nature of our recently defeated enemies. This is not the work of just a handful of men— every German condoned with his silence this project of mass butchery, and is, in part, responsible.

Buchenwald is small — only about the size of two city blocks — yet the suffering that took place there is indescribable in its scale and intensity. It is located near the city of Weimar, in a part of the most beautiful sector of Germany, but the spector of death hovering in the vicinity dins any appreciation a visitor might once have had, for it is here that over 51,000 humans were tortured, burned or starved to death.

MET BY GUIDE

A German-Jewish guide, formerly a prisoner in the camp, met us at the gate and volunteered to show us around. Three months of good food had erased all outward signs of malnutrition, but his broken English was made harder to understand by the loss of most of his front teeth, knocked out for a minor infraction of rules by an SS guard.

Our first stop was at one of the barracks, typical of the camp. It was a one-storied wooden building about 200 feet long. Along each side were bare shelves, starting with the floor and reaching the roof. These were beds. An indication of the living (?) conditions is the fact that between 700 and 900 men were crowded into these structures. The one meal per day, consisting of thin soup and bread, was not only insufficient in bulk but gave many diarrhea. The woeful lack of sanitation facilities made long lines throughout the day and night inevitable.

EIGHT OVENS

Perhaps the grimmest part of Buchenwald was the eight ovens used for burning the dead. By stuffing two bodies in each oven, 32 could be cremated per hour — even so, the Germans had to work day and night to dispose of the dead. The ashes were irregularly collected and used for fertilizer. Evidently proud of his work, the manufacturer had his name stamped on each oven. I’m sure that none of the inmates would recommend them for him, however.

I could go on — tell you about the SS men who took their children on a tour of the camp for being good, or the pitiful scratches in the concrete walls, made when prisoners were being strangled, or even about Herman Pister, the “beast of Buchenwald,” who personally murdered 2800 human beings whose only crime was the courage to cry out against the outrages of the Third Reich. But why go on? For Buchenwald is beyond description. The only way to fully believe it is to see it.

Last fall, a Bremerton couple made an unusual discovery within the hedge along their driveway: numerous vintage film reels in varying shapes and sizes. 

Most of the reels contain clues to their owners: “Nov. 71, Becky’s 6th birthday,” “Florida Vacation, 1959-60,” or “Ostrander Picnic 1963.” But beyond that, it’s hard to know who they belong to — unless the owner were to recognize them.

Bremerton Police Officer Jeff Schaefer responded to the 600 block of Roosevelt Avenue last September to collect them from the curious couple. He believes they may have been discarded there by a thief who’d broken into a nearby home, but he can’t say for certain.

He’s since tried to find the owners, but has realized that without getting word out to the masses, the reels may just end up collecting dust in the department’s evidence room.

“I knew that when the reporting party turned these reels over to me, they were someone’s family treasures,” Schaefer said. 

Schaefer says the discovery was one of the most intriguing of his career.

“Ever since I took custody of them, it’s been very important to me that I do all I can to get them back to their owner,” he said.

I’ve posted more photos below in the hopes that they’ll jog someone’s memory. Schaefer hopes so too.

“It would be my hope that someone out there would recognize the names or the events printed on the reel cans and be able to claim them,” he said. “I know that I would be elated if I had the opportunity to catch a glimpse of my family history like these films will for someone out there.” 

UPDATE: I am excited to announce that representatives of the family have claimed the film reels! I plan to post a more thorough update once I interview them.

You can make a convincing argument that Quincy Jones is the biggest name ever to come out of Bremerton. The legendary musician and producer spent his teenage years here, and, most notably, discovered music on the shores of Sinclair Inlet.

Though born in Chicago, Jones’ family moved to Bremerton in 1943. I always enjoy hearing him tell stories about the city, and he did so most recently on CBS’ The Late Show with Stephen Colbert.

In the interview, the host asked Jones — winner of 27 Grammy Awards — about the first instrument he ever played. Jones mildly exasperated Colbert by avoiding answering that question for some time, instead focusing on his “gangster” youth. But Jones does indeed get to his Bremerton days.

“What happened was … we wanted to be baby gangsters and like, rule Bremerton,” Jones said. “It was Bremerton, Washington.”

What I find delightful is he just says Bremerton, like everyone knows what he’s talking about. He quickly elaborates that it’s a city within Washington. But I think it speaks to his roots here, that even beyond his time in Seattle, Chicago and elsewhere, he would still mention our city without a state attached to it, given his familiarity and memories of the place.

He goes on to tell the story of being in an armory here where there was rumors of lemon meringue pie and ice cream cones, which he and his “gangster” friends promptly ate upon discovering them.   

“That sounds like gangster work my friend,” Colbert jokes.

They also broke into all the offices inside. He mentions a Mrs. Arends by name, and it was inside her supervisors’ office that he found a piano.

“I didn’t know human beings played instruments,” he told Colbert.

“I touched it,” he said, “And every cell in my body said this is what you’re gonna do the rest of your life.”

Though he went to Coontz Junior High School near downtown, he studied music with band teacher Ron Gillespie, future Bremerton High School principal, at Dewey Junior High School (where Mountain View Middle School sits today). He would ultimately graduate from Garfield High School in 1950, according to Sun archives.

And the rest is history.

Watch the entire interview below:

While doing a story at the Frank Chopp apartments last October, I looked across the street to find a faint but visible red star in the concrete off the sidewalk. 

The star, at the base of the steps to the home at 711 Chester Avenue, intrigued me. Where did it come from? Why was it there?

I turned to the power of social media, specifically the “If you grew up in bremerton, WA … remember when …” group, to help. There’s more than 7,800 members in the group and while I did not exactly grow up in the city, its administrators graciously adopted me.

After posting a photo of the star, the response was incredible — nearly 150 comments and it hasn’t been up a day yet. Already, people who’ve lived there, and even a woman who says here grandfather built the home in the 1920s, have contributed (thank you Kelly Storm!).

But we’ve not yet solved the mystery of the red star.

Here’s the going theories at this point:

• Could it be related to the Order of the Eastern Star or perhaps a Wiccan star of some kind?
• What about if it’s related to the Blue Star Mothers’ Service flag,  which signifies a blue star if a son or daughter in active military service and a gold star if they have lost a son or daughter.
• A bar in Baltimore, Maryland has this to say:

“The Red Star gained its name and reputation from sailors visiting Fell’s Point. They docked, lonely and water-logged, hoping to find some of the comforts of home. The sailors knew Fell’s Point was a good place to find a warm meal and a cold ale, along with more “intimate” necessities. The blue laws of the time prohibited the customary red lights in the district… so resourceful women painted nautical red stars on the sidewalks leading the sailors to their doors. To the lonely men’s delight, The Red Star was born.”

• The U.S. Militaria Forum says red stars represent “missing or captured” soldiers.
• Some kind of tradition by the builders of the home?
• A safety measure for children, that signified a safe house for them to go?
•  Perhaps something to do with the Red Star of David?
• And I would be remiss to not mention the red star’s connection to communism.

My inclination thus far is that it’s indeed something to do with missing or captured soldiers. But I want to verify that and ultimately find out how it got there and, if that’s true, who it’s for.

I turn to you, further, dear readers, to help us unravel this mystery.