Norville Gorse, the World War II aviator who was shot down twice over the North Sea and kept as prisoner of war in Nazi Germany for 22 months, had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Doctors told him he had a year left to live. Instead, he died within a month, with the dignity due to a heroic Airman.
In his final moments, lying comfortably in his bed with his nephew John and family beside him, Gorse suddenly opened his eyes to gaze into John's with a look of deep gratitude. He took the breath that would be his last, and a death tear rolled down his right cheek. Uncle Norville was dead. He met his B-17 crewmates on the other side.
Gorse's story surfaced when the B-17 Flying Fortress bomber that he was forced to ditch into the North Sea was located on the seafloor by divers last fall. Gorse returned to flying status after that crash, but months later was shot down by the Luftwaffe off Germany's northern coast. After spending days floating in an emergency raft, he and his few surviving crewmates were taken prisoner by the Germans.
His nephew John G. Gorse is a C-130 pilot in the U.S. Air Force Reserve, and serves as the Commander of the 440th Operations Group at Pope Army Airfield, N.C.
The senior Gorse, after leaving active service at the end of the war with the rank of Captain, started a long professional career with NASA and General Electric. He married and had a son. However, he was never was able to shake the PTSD that resulted from his POW internment that began in the summer of 1943, and its aftereffects eventually led to his divorce.
In his 70s, Gorse lived alone in an apartment in Northern Wisconsin. He had checked himself into a hospital where he was given the terminal diagnosis of cancer. Two weeks before his death, he called his nephew John. He asked John if he could come live with him because his insurance would no longer pay for a hospital stay. John happily agreed.
Because there were plenty of preparations to make to his house before his Uncle could move in, John negotiated a week-and-a-half extension to his Uncle's hospital stay.
On the morning of May 25, 2003, John arrived at the hospital to pick up his uncle Norville and gather his uncle's belongings in preparation for the move to John's house. Norville was alert and seemed strong, with no indication that he had fewer than three days left to live.
Norville was a methodical thinker, and had spent the last week and a half planning all the things he and John had to get done. Every step was planned, every idea mapped out.
Their first stop was to the small apartment where he lived alone, a 20-minute drive away.
Norville's single-bedroom apartment was clean and orderly, just the way Norville lived his solitary life. He showed John around, fawning over photos of his wife and son, who he hadn't seen in far too many years to say.
After World War II, Norville's undiagnosed PTSD led his mom and dad to believe he was crazy. They had him committed for a time, like some other World War II veterans. Although after his stay he had married and had a son, the internal aftershocks of his wartime service ended in a divorce. He carried the memories of war with him daily.
His other pictures were of his mother, and even one of John at pilot training graduation in 1991, where John first met his uncle.
Since the two men were there to move Norville into John's home, Norville went straight to work methodically briefing John on the whereabouts of his important belongings.
In a desk drawer, John found a categorized book that included bank accounts, investments and a life insurance policy Norville had prepared in the event of his death, expected to be a year away.
Their next stop was Norville's 60-acre patch of land, which he'd bought in 1972 for $1200. Because he loved the outdoors and the solitude of the woods, he spent a lot of time at the remote acreage, another 20-minute drive from the apartment.
Norville had built two Quonset huts on the land and used them for logging. The larger one was enclosed and had a windowless plywood sliding door. Inside, he had a makeshift bed that he slept on when he got tired from working on the land. It was made of two wooden pallets laid side by side, with a sleeping bag on top, and reminded John of beds he'd seen in photos of POW camps.
Norville showed John around some of the property, but it was getting late and he had to return to the hospital for the night. The next day was the day of the move into John's house, where he'd stay the remainder of his life.
The following morning started early, and Norville didn't want to waste a single minute. Lawyers showed up at the hospital by 8 a.m., and Norville had signed his Will by 8:15. Although it wasn't clear to John what was happening, it was all part of Norville's plan. John was named his executor and responsible for all Norville owned.
They finished packing Norville's personal items from his hospital room and went to John's car at the patient pick-up. The hospital staff loaded him into the car and ensured he was buckled in. The men left the hospital at 9 a.m. for the four-hour drive to southern Wisconsin.
An hour into the trip, Norville said he felt like he couldn't breathe, and that he needed John to pull over so he could catch his breath.
John complied. He thought it was strange that his uncle seemed in such bad shape even while given a full year left to live. They continued southward.
The final hour of the trip was the worst. Norville, short of breath, looked over at John and begged him to stop the car. "Pull over," he said, "So I can die."
Shocked by his Uncle's statement, John toughly fired back, "You will not die in this car, soldier, because my kids want to read you a book tonight."
John stopped the car at a wayside that they had just come upon. Norville flung his door open, stepped outside, and clung to the car door for support.
Norville took ten minutes to just stand and breathe in the wind blowing across his face. His composure returned and he sat back down in his seat. His tone completely changed. "Yes, that would be very nice," he said, as if he'd made peace with the situation.
An hour later, John and Norville arrived at the house without any further discussion of death. The family was waiting in the driveway when they pulled up, and the kids - Mariah, Chase, and Keely - were excited to see their uncle. With the sight of the kids, his demeanor changed and he once again acted engaging and happy.
John and Jess unloaded the car as the kids escorted their great uncle to the backyard. He sat down on the back porch in a chair the kids had put there for him. It wasn't long before the car was empty, and it was then time to show Uncle Norville his new room.
It was Mariah's room, and it had a full view of the two-acre backyard. There was a Gingko tree outside the window. The yard was freshly cut and the flower beds were cultivated. Jess and the kids had done a phenomenal job preparing a view that Uncle Norville would enjoy. His favorite chair was placed next to the window with a stack of books for the kids to read to him by its side. His bed was set so that he could see outside when lying in it.
John helped Uncle Norville have a seat in his chair, the same one that had come from his apartment. Norville sat down and adjusted, then took hold of Keely, the youngest child, and stared outside.
Keely asked Norville if he liked his room. "Yes, you did a great job!" he said. "It's very peaceful. Thank you."
John asked Norville if his room was worth the drive. "It's perfect!" he replied, grinning.
Mariah and Chase were both trying to climb into their great uncle's lap because they wanted to read him a book.
John could tell Norville was getting tired, but Norville complied with the kids' demands. "Let's do that, shall we?" he said.
The kids took great care of Uncle Norville the rest of the afternoon, inviting him into all their activities. Norville was filled with the joy and happiness of being part of a family he so desperately wanted, but never really had.
That first evening, the normal routine of family life crept in: kids' baths, dogs to walk, dinner, and later bedtime stories. Uncle Norville sat in his chair and read aloud each of the kid's favorite books. The kids listened intently, sitting crosslegged in front of uncle Norville, happy to share their time with him.
Jess called the kids for bedtime, and one by one they each gave him a kiss and headed off to their bedrooms.
"Let's call it a day, shall we?" Norville said quietly. It was a full first day, and even with some adjustments to make, John thought that life would be good if every day could end like the first.
The next morning, May 27, Norville awoke in pain. He had gone to bed in seemingly fine health, but as the kids were preparing for school, John heard a low moaning coming from Norville's room. John knocked and entered.
Uncle Norville lay stiffly on his back, and complained of pain in his belly.
John called a hospice care nurse and asked her to pay a visit to find out what was going on.
The children entered the room and said goodbye to Norville and that they would see him that night. Norville, through the pain, told them to have a great day and that he looked forward to it.
The nurse arrived an hour later. Norville's pain had increased to the point where it was becoming unbearable. Hewas agitated and extremely restless. Several times he tried to get out of bed and stand, but was unstable and forced to lie back down.
John and the nurse were concerned for Norville's safety, and the nurse increased his dosage of morphine, which seemed to calm him down. She left instructions for what to do if he worsened before she departed. John also had to leave for work and left Norville in the care of Jess.
Norville's condition remained unchanged until the kids arrived from school that afternoon. Jess explained to them that he wasn't feeling well and that they should keep the noise down. The kids, excited to see their uncle, asked if they could read him a book. Jess consulted Norville, who agreed with only a nod.
As Mariah was reading to her uncle, John arrived home. The family, in the room with Norville, listened and watched as Mariah read aloud her favorite book. Norville seemed to calm down, and for the first time that day he fell asleep.
The family left the room, hopeful he would improve. However, that was not the case.
That evening, Norville's conditioned worsened by the hour. He started to become delirious. John and Jess, sitting on the couch after putting the kids to bed, heard a loud thud from Norville's bedroom.
They hurried to the room to find Norville sitting on the edge of his bed, feet on the floor. He looked as if he were somewhere else.
He barked a command at them: "Stay close!" he said."Sit down! We have to huddle to conserve our heat!"
John realized that Norville was reliving the terrifying World War II shootdown. He and Jess sat on either side of him. They were his crewmates and he was their leader. After Norville's 1943 shootdown over the cold North Sea, he had spent three days fighting hypothermia and wetness while adrift in a survival raft.
"Let's do an inventory," Norville ordered. "Paddles, VERY pistol, radio, survival kit." The vivid detail sent goosebumps down John's back. As he and his wife witnessed thestory playing out in the dying man's mind, John was glad Norville wasn't alone.
They were finally able to get Norville to lie down again. He seemed exhausted from the event and drifted back to sleep.
John and Jess went back to the couch to contemplate what they had just seen and prayed that Norville could find his peace. They understood what was happening - Norville was dying, and he wasn't going to last the year that the doctors had predicted. The long night of listening to moans, consoling the kids, and not sleeping themselves left John and Jess exhausted.
The morning brought uncertainty but progressed without incident. Jess wanted to get the kids to school quickly to protect them seeing their uncle in such poor shape.
John called the hospice nurse again and asked if she could evaluate Norville. She confirmed that he was rapidly deteriorating, and that his body was shutting down.
That afternoon, family began to show up. A vigil formed in Norville's room, with family talking and reminiscing. His expression would change depending on what was being said, so they knew he was listening.
After the kids arrived home from school, they were told what was happening. Each wanted a chance to read their favorite book to him again. Seeing the children with such compassion and the recognition from the World War II hero who lay dying made an intensely meaningful moment.
Shortly after 9 p.m. that night, May 28, 2003, Norville had his nephew John and family with him as he died. Jess and John checked on him, and his breathing and pulse had both improved. Suddenly, he opened his eyes and looked deeply into John's with a sense of gratitude, drew his last breath as a single death tear fell from his eye and rolled down his cheek.
Norville Gorse was able to leave behind the pain of the German POW camp that he had carried with him for so long, and pass away with dignity. The death of a heroic Airman. That night, Uncle Norville reunited on the other side with his B-17 crew.
Part three of a three-part series.
Courtesy of Lt. Col. John Gorse
| Date Taken: | 08.23.2016 |
| Date Posted: | 09.19.2016 18:48 |
| Story ID: | 210029 |
| Location: | POPE AIR FORCE BASE, NC, US |
| Web Views: | 119 |
| Downloads: | 0 |
This work, Three Days Left to Live: The Final Chapter of an Old Aviator, by Capt. Justin Clark, identified by DVIDS, must comply with the restrictions shown on https://www.dvidshub.net/about/copyright.
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