His Cup Runneth Over: A Warrior's Thanks (Part 3)

"Mastah Preddi" Fell From the Sky and Into the Hearts of an Island's People 65 Years Ago

Fred Hargesheimer was shot down in the southwest Pacific on June 5, 1943. A lifetime later, he sits in his quiet California ranch house amid the snow and soaring sugar pines of the Sierra Nevada foothills.

Part One of this story: Happynews.com/news/3102008/cup-runneth-warrior-thanks
Part Two of this story: Happynews.com/news/3102008/cup-runneth-warrior-thanks-p2

Part Three:

In February 1944, eight months after he was shot down, Hargesheimer was picked up from a New Britain beach by a U.S. submarine, in a rendezvous arranged by Australian "coastwatcher" commandos operating behind Japanese lines.

He returned to civilian life after the war ended in 1945. By then he had married Dorothy Sheldon of Ashtabula, Ohio, and by 1949 they had three children — Richard, Eric and Carol. In 1951, he took a sales job with a Minnesota forerunner of computer maker Sperry Rand, his employer ever after.

But the people of Ea Ea never left his mind. He corresponded with a missionary to learn how they had fared. He studied and restudied international air schedules.

"The more I thought about my experience with the people in New Guinea, the more I realized what a debt I had to try to repay," he says.

In 1960, with the family vacation money and the family's blessing, Hargesheimer made a solitary, 11,000-mile journey back to New Britain, biggest outer island of Papua New Guinea, then Australian-run, now independent.

The villagers, hearing Mastah Preddi was coming, lined the beach and sang "God Save the Queen" as he stepped from a boat in the moonlight.

"It was wonderful, overwhelming," he says. He was met by Luluai Lauo, Joseph Gabu and others, and later found Ida and her 16-year-old son, to thank her, too.

But "a simple thank you didn't seem enough," he recalls. Back home, he consulted with a missionary, who told him what the people needed: a school.

The Minnesota salesman went to work, canvassing relatives, meeting with church groups, speaking to service organizations. He raised $15,000 over three years, "most of it $5 and $10 gifts."

With the money and 17-year-old son Dick in tow, he returned to New Britain in 1963. He was given church land in Ewasse, a central settlement near Ea Ea, now renamed Nantabu. There a contractor raised the area's first permanent elementary school — cement floor, metal roof, sturdy walls.

He brought in New Guinean teachers, American volunteers and an Australian headmaster, and the Airmen's Memorial School opened in 1964 with 40 pupils and four classrooms. But Fred Hargesheimer wasn't finished.

Back in the U.S., a brief spurt of publicity drew more contributions, he got more ideas, and this story of a debt repaid grew, decade by decade. But it was a story little known or celebrated beyond New Britain's welcoming villages.

In 1969, his fund built a library at the school and a clinic for Ewasse. By then, too, the school's successful plot of oil palm helped pave the way for a large plantation of the lucrative crop, with scores of jobs, easing the deep poverty here in Bialla district. Rows of the stout palms today blanket the hills, property of Belgian-owned Hargy Oil Palm Ltd., west of a large lake named Hargy.

Once his own children were grown, Hargesheimer saw an opportunity to "say thank you in a meaningful way." In 1970, he and Dorothy packed up and moved to New Britain, to teach the children themselves and to build a second school — this time closer to Nantabu, next door in the village of Noau, at the foot of the smoking Mount Ulawan volcano.

Garua Peni, then 10, was one of their first students.

"I thought, 'Wow! They left their place to come here for us, just to share themselves with us,'" she recalls.

Dorothy said their four years here were the best of their lives, despite New Britain's difficulties — of supplies, transportation, the surprises of local culture.

"Dorothy sometimes had a problem registering children, because they would change their names often, just on a whim," Hargesheimer recalls with a laugh.

But the couple, leaving New Britain in 1974, had less than a dozen more years left together. In 1985, at age 63, Dorothy Hargesheimer died of a heart attack.

The old pilot flew on alone, visiting New Britain every two or three years, funneling fresh funds into his causes, finding ever-warm embraces. On a visit in 2000, they proclaimed him, in a great tribute, "Suara Auru," "Chief Warrior" in the local Nakanai language.

Then, in 2006, Fred Hargesheimer, at 90, returned for what he said would be his last visit.

Life had changed here since he first walked in the shadow of Mount Ulawan. Grass huts have given way to concrete-block houses, conch shells to cell phones. The men favor slacks over sarongs and all the women wear tops. Blue-eyed cockatoos may still squawk in the forest, but their eucalyptus trees are falling to loggers by the millions.

As he was carried past them in a ceremonial canoe and Nakanai headdress, thousands cheered. "The people were very happy. They'll always remember what Mr. Fred Hargesheimer has done for our people," says Ismael Saua, 69, a former teacher at the Airmen's school.

Mastah Preddi had come back for a special reason: His old P-38 fighter had been found deep in the jungle. He was flown by helicopter up the winding Pandi River, the river he once descended by canoe, and then carried in a chair by Nakanai men to the site, to view what's left of the plane he bailed out of so long ago.

As usual, he also had business to attend to, dedicating a new library at the Noau school.

The schools had an enrollment of some 500, and a list of well-educated alumni numbering many hundreds more, including Garua Peni. She had gone on to an advanced degree in linguistics in Australia and now was taking over Hargesheimer's New Guinea foundation as chairperson.

He may have taken a step back, but his heart was still in New Britain. And the love they returned at times seemed almost mystical. At one point, in the 1960s, he was told villagers planned to send the late Luluai Lauo's bones to him in Minnesota, a trust he solemnly declined.

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As he looks back from his Grass Valley, Calif., retirement home, Hargesheimer says he often mused over the word "if." Why, for example, didn't the Japanese pilot finish him off as he floated helplessly down beneath his parachute?

In 1999 he got an answer. With the help of World War II history buffs, he located Mitsugu Hyakutomi of Yamaguchi, Japan, the pilot who records show downed his P-38. He was suffering from Alzheimer's disease but his wife recounted by mail that her husband had said he could never shoot such defenseless enemy flyers.

"The Japanese pilot gave me the opportunity to get involved in something worthwhile, and for that I'm ever grateful," he says.

This modest man says he has many people to thank as he draws nearer the end of a long, perilous, challenging road from 1943. "These people were responsible for saving my life. How could I ever repay it?"

It came down to that, and perhaps to the psalmist's words of gratitude, "My cup runneth over."

"I wasn't a millionaire," says Mastah Preddi. "But I was very rich."

Fred Hargesheimer's foundation: http://www.hargycaldera.name

New Britain expedition slideshow with Hargesheimer material: http://www2.chicoer.com/olextras/slideshows/20080127PapuaNewGuinea/soundslider.swf