Tragedy, Endurance, Perseverance
By Geoffry Monteith
Ernest P. Gonzales
March 29, 1921-January 29, 1973
Born March 29, 1921 in the Sandia Mountains near Albuquerque, New Mexico, Ernest Gonzales grew up in a large family of migrant workers. The family traveled around picking crops and, as a result, many of its children did not receive a proper education. Ernest himself only received a second-grade education. What school years he had were trouble still as he only knew Spanish growing up. The language barrier caused him to face discrimination and even beatings while in school. By 1940, the family found its way to La Salle, in Weld County, Colorado. Ernest, by this point, married and he and his wife Eva had four children.[1] In 1942, Ernest registered for the draft and in 1943, he began his service in the United States Army during World War II.[2]
Gonzales spent the majority of his service in the Third Army under the command of General George “Blood and Guts” Patton.[3] During his tenure, Gonzales performed his duty as an artilleryman and participated in the Battle of the Bulge during the harsh winter of 1944/1945.[4] After the German counter-attack began in 1944, American forces in the Ardennes region found themselves cut off from allied supply-lines, without air support due to the inclement weather, and under intense German assault. Patton’s Third Army maneuvered to face the German advance, and eventually relieved the group of men famously dubbed, “The Battered Bastards of Bastogne.”[5] In doing so, the Third Army nonetheless overextended its own supply-lines, and Gonzales certainly experienced the scarce provisions, harsh marching, and bitter cold during the winter engagement.
Gonzales recounted the ceaseless marching, for the army only had enough vehicles to haul the artillery and other equipment during such an extreme maneuver. Thus, Gonzales and his compatriots had to make the journey on foot. He recounted having to “sleep while he marched” by leaning on his fellows during the journey. In one particular instance of decent rest, Gonzales remembered sleeping so solidly and so still that, when he awoke, his fellow informed him he had slept on a snake all night – and had not moved enough to disturb it. Through the hunger and exhaustion, Gonzales still dealt with the cold. Of the various things he brought back from his service, one such item was a warm winter coat he found partway into the operation. After returning, he never wore it, nor displayed it, he just let it hang in his closet. When asked why he held on to it, he simply stated: “I went through hell for that coat.”[6]
Gonzales did not progress in rank. In his own words he, “was a Buck-Private and always stayed a Buck-Private.”[7] During his military service, Gonzales wife Eva died of leukemia and two of his children died as well. Ernest was able to return home to attend his wife’s funeral, but then had to return to his post in Europe, forcing his remaining two children into an orphanage.
When he returned, Gonzales remarried and raised another family in Denver, Colorado.[8] Aside from his well-earned coat, Gonzales kept a chest full of captured medals, military papers, and other war memorabilia from his time in service. However, much like his coat, these objects were rarely used and he prohibited his children from looking through the chest.[9] Memories of the war were of course, mixed and Gonzales does not seem to have made any life-long friends from his service. The people he remembered most fondly were those fellow Mexican-American soldiers who shared during their service. While Mexican-American soldiers were not segregated during the war, they did not face equal treatment and often endured harsh prejudice. To him, it seems, the war was, in many ways, simply one part of a greater life.
On January 29, 1973, Private Ernest Gonzales died, and he now rests in Fort Logan National Cemetery, in Denver, Colorado. Throughout all the hardship, the tragedies at home, and the discrimination he endured in the military and beyond, Ernest Gonzales persevered and, after the war ended in Europe, he accepted an offer to renew his service and go the Pacific theatre.[10] It is for these reasons, therefore, that, when asked what, above all else, should be known of her father, Ernest’s daughter Loretta said, undeniably, “he was a patriot.”[11]