In Memory of William C. Bequette

IN MEMORY OF

            William C. Bequette Sept 16, 1917 - April 24, 2011



     William C. Bequette, long time editor of the Tri-City Herald died in his sleep at home after a three year illness. Graduate University of Montana. WWII combat veteran, awarded Bronze Star, served from Oct 1941 until Sept 1945. He worked as a reporter and later Chief Editor of the Tri-City Herald until his official retirement in 1986. As a reporter and editor he was responsible for writing “probing stories on city government” and other insightful stories, including a nation wide story reporting one of the first UFO sightings in Oregon in 1947.

     Bill continued to write including his autobiography and served as substitute editor for several years after his retirement.   Even at age of 90 he continued to garden,cut his own lawn and wrote his autobiography from his war diary and memory

          His wife Neva L. Bequette, 1910-1998 was the chief Librarian and founder Mid-Columbia Regional Library system. He is survived by two sisters, Grace Wood, Marjorie Gamwells, his daughter Gail B. Merkel, and 3 grandsons. A formal Memorial service is not planned.

         The words, “no memorial services planned” can mean many things, usually that the deceased at almost 94, has outlived his family and friends. But in the case of Bill Bequette, arranging the logistics to find a single time and place in timely manner is not practical.

           Fortunately, with modern technology including the internet, E-mail and the blog it is possible to hold our own memorial without a physical gathering. To this end, this website has been developed. Comments can be posted on the Sympathy page of the website. http://mysite.ncnetwork.net/resq2nk4/gailampjohn/

           Because of Bill and Neva’s interest in the library and diabetes research, those wishing to give a memorial gift we suggest.

             http://www.midcolumbialibraries.org/about-mcl/friends-library/friends-library

            https://donations.diabetes.org/site/Donation2?df_id=9180&9180.donation=form1&s_src=GWO_ppcq12011dfrm_GEN9180PersonalGft_MIDTXT

Bill and Neva First Grandson 1979

Bill and Neva

Prologue from “My War” by Bill Bequette

Some things just don’t seem to have this-world explanations. I had my first nightmare when I was 9, another nearly 30 years later. During that first nightmare I woke up shaking and screaming. Mother calmed me, saying I just had a bad dream.

Three nights later when the dream –if a dream, recurred, Mother repeated words intended to soothe me, and after a time I was able to sleep again although fitfully.

My Dad attributed my dream to an over-active imagination, and I might have accepted that view had I not, as I slept three weeks later, dreamed that the same Indian who had chased me in previous dreams again pursued me in the school yard and shot an arrow into me.

There was no wound, of course, and when I described to my parents what I had seen and felt in my dream they told me it was caused by indigestion and I should forget it. They also cautioned me not to tell anyone about my dream, that if I talked about it other people would think me queer.

I did as they advised, and didn’t even tell my best friends and the experience was almost forgotten until 1945 when the surrender of the Japanese that August ended World War II.

For two or three years after the Armistice e, I had a dream that never varied – the sniper always fired before I could and I always woke up, alive but in a cold sweat.

On other occasions, but less frequently as time passed, I would awake in the middle of the night for no discernible reason and for a second or two I would imagine, faintly but unmistakably, that terrible, sweetish, odor of death which permeated everything at Buna and Sanananda.

I never dared talk about those nightmares either. I couldn’t explain them and I suspected, that if I talked about my dream sensible people would put me down as a little touched. They would think it incredible that I was still trading shots with a sniper in a war that had ended long ago.

With the help of old letters, a diary and a fallible memory, I have attempted to recount some of my growing-up experiences as well as the small part I played in that long ago war, and what I did after the War.

Bill's UFO Story.



      You can certainly tell a lot about a person when you listen to their tales. But I think it would probably be a mistake to conclude that they represent what they consider really important.   If you judge by excerpts from various autobiographies, war tales consume a disproportion portion of their lives, based on percentage of the lives spent in that endeavor.

      I found it difficult to talk to either my father or my Father-in-Law, Bill. I soon learned that my father had a “one up attitude” and Bill had a Reporters way of grilling when I revealed too much. In any event listening rather than talking was probably the best thing I could have done.

     Both Bill and my own father served in the 41^st Infantry division during WWII but in different Regiments so they probably never met. But my father’s two years in the Army represented a full 80% of his life tales, 10% where from his pre-WWII experiences and the remained were professional.

        Bill left a far more extensive record.   Bill’s verbal stories were 40% pre WWII, 50% WWII, and 10% was professional. If you examine his 193 page autobiography, 4 were pre WWII, 142 were WWII and 41 were professional a far different percent.

      Of Bills verbal tales my two favorites were about the soldier in his unit who had such abnormally large feet that his replacement boots arrived in a wooden shipping box.

            But Bill’s UFO story that he wrote June 1947 while a reporter in Pendleton Oregon had to be my favorite. According to Bill a private pilot with over 1,200 hours flying experience and a successful businessman and a father named Kenneth Arnold walked into the newspaper office.

     Bill and an Associate editor listed to his account of a saucer shaped craft flying between Mt Rainer and Mount Adams at a spend estimated at 1,2000 MPH. Arnold simply wanted to know if the military was testing some new kind of craft in the area. Neither of the two reporters took the story that seriously but promised to write a short article on his account and to contact him if they received any more information.

      Bill told me that to him it was just another story told by someone who appeared very creditable. The 5 paragraph story was written and posted to the local AP wire serve.   Then according to bill, “he went to lunch”. To him it was nothing more than an insignificant story and a way to earn, “a little beer money”.

       When Bill returned from lunch the “office girl” was frantic having received telephone calls from as far away as New York and Canada requesting follow up information.

     Bill then spent the next several hours gathering as many additional facts as he could from Arnold. When ever he told the story, he never saw a flying saucer, but simply did his job and reported.

      This attitude also shows the great generation gap when a reporter today often feels it is duty to sharp the story to serve a particular viewpoint and not simply report the facts as he learns them.