By Craig Lazzeretti

Managing editor

Thursday, September 13 (10 a.m.): Rossmoor’s fifth annual Vets Town Hall, held on Veterans Day at Creekside Clubhouse, featured the usual array of poignant, harrowing and somber accounts from residents who served in the military and experienced the harsh realities of war.

But, as in past years, the tears of sadness and loss were interspersed with more light-hearted moments. “Humorous stories are welcome,” event host Dennis Johnsen told the attendees who packed the Fairway Room at the beginning of the Nov. 11 event. “If the past is any indication, there will be at least some.”

Yes, there were. Navy veteran Art Salzfass shared how his dreams of becoming a Navy pilot following graduation from Columbia University in 1956 were dashed when he failed to pass the flight school physical in Pensacola, Florida. But the naval base’s public relations staff had a nice consolation prize for him before he was shipped off to duty on a destroyer: A new movie starring John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara, “The Wings of Eagles,” was being filmed on site and needed a few extras. They decided Salzfass fit the bill.

When the completed movie was later shown to Salzfass’ crew, one of his shipmates came up to him and said, “You’re not going to believe this. There’s a guy in the movie who looks just like you!”

“I was a legend in my own mind,” said Salzfass, whose short-lived film stardom is forever etched with an entry in the IMDb online film database.

Salzfass elicited giggles with another anecdote about the day he served as an observer on a U.S. submarine at the Guantánamo Bay naval base in Cuba. The captain asked Salzfass and a few others if they’d like to take a swim in the pristine Caribbean waters. Shortly after diving in, he was stunned to see members of the crew pointing rifles in their direction from the sub’s conning tower.

“My first reaction was that they were protecting us from Russians,” said Salzfass, who quickly figured out that the actual threat was sharks. “You never saw anybody move as fast as I did.”

Richard Haddock showed off the same dungarees he wore as a sonarman on a submarine during the Cold War in the 1960s. “As soon as we dived, I was the eyes and ears of the ship,” Haddock said, explaining how surface ships were referred to as “targets” by him and his crewmates. “You’ve got to love a ship that can survive under water as well as on top. We had it all.”

That included more money in their pockets, thanks to the extra pay submariners received for toiling in the ocean’s depths. “The people we met in port knew that. We were very popular,” he said.

The diesel odors that clung to their skin also made them distinct, especially given the scarcity of fresh water on subs for bathing. “Showers were a luxury, and we only took them when we went into port,” he shared to more laughs.

Not surprisingly, several Rossmoor vets also focused on the grim, tragic realities of war, and the unique aspects of the ones in which they served. The Vets Town Hall concept was developed by author Sebastian Junger to provide an apolitical venue for veterans to share their military experiences with anyone willing to listen.

Joe Potozkin, 99, who served on the attack transport USS Shelby in World War II, recounted asking his father as a 17-year-old to sign the papers that would allow him to enlist.

“He said, ‘Of course, I’ll sign it but first finish high school.’ With my cap and gown, I went to the draft board to register, and three months later I was in the Navy.”

Before long, he found himself engulfed in the Battle of Okinawa, facing the horrific sight of Japanese kamikaze planes heading for his ship. While Potozkin’s was spared, one next to it was hit.

“It was kind of scary,” he said. “We went to battle stations 17 times a day. We never finished a meal. As soon as we started eating, we would hear, ‘Report to your battle stations’ again.”

Potozkin, a champion welterweight boxer in the Navy who later sparred against the legendary Sugar Ray Robinson, also shared how the G.I. Bill of Rights allowed him to pursue a career in education after the war, starting with a stint as the “dean of behavior” at a Brooklyn middle school where “students were sent to me for the same reasons I used to get into trouble.”

Potozkin choked up reading a letter his crew received from the parents of a shipmate who was killed in action during the war.

He also recalled the support that servicemen during World War II received back home. “World War II was a very popular war,” he said. “Everyone was involved in the war. Patriotism was really great at that time.”

The experience was quite different for Vietnam veterans Merek Lipson, George Baker and Don Mathews, who served during a war that became increasingly unpopular and divided the nation.

Lipson, a naval intelligence liaison officer, reflected on how the popular phrase now heard by vets such as himself, “Thank you for your service,” was non-existent upon his return from duty.

“When I came back from Vietnam, I never heard that one time,” he said. “What I did experience was people shunning me, even spitting on me.”

He described how the My Lai massacre of Vietnamese civilians, and resulting government coverup, stained the reputations of all those who served honorably.

“The people I served with did their best not to injure innocent civilians,” he said. “I believe firmly (My Lai) was the exception. It was not at all what I experienced or how the sailors or soldiers I served with behaved.”

Mathews described how he was “flopping around” and hadn’t even graduated high school when he joined the U.S. Army during the Vietnam era. Originally stationed in Germany, he said he volunteered to go to Vietnam “to prove my masculinity” after an episode in which a superior officer came on to him sexually in Germany. He arrived there on Jan. 5, 1968, shortly before the infamous Tet Offensive.

“It hit me. I could die here,” he recalled. “I panicked, but there was no escape. I made it through that time, and it changed me. Somewhere in there, I became a man.

“It comes down to not which side you are on, but do you have personal integrity where you are.”

Baker was far from the first in his family to face the tragedy of war. He rattled off a list of descendants dating to the Civil War who had served in battle, including World War I and World War II, when two of his uncles were killed. Like Mathews, he arrived in Vietnam during the “troubled times” on the eve of the Tet Offensive, when war protests back home were at a fever pitch.

On Feb. 20, 1968, Baker was wounded by two bullets in Binh Long province. Of the 42 soldiers in the field with him that day, 10 others were wounded and 28, including his commanding officer, were killed, he said. Baker spent two months in a Japanese hospital, and three more at Letterman Army Hospital at San Francisco’s Presidio, recuperating from his injuries.

“I’m very grateful to be alive,” Baker said. “My story is mine, and your story is yours. It’s very important that all our stories are heard.”

Among the residents who joined the Vets Talk listening session was Loc Barnes, who escaped South Vietnam with the aid of the U.S. military when Saigon fell on April 30, 1975. At the end of the session, she expressed her gratitude to the veterans and the opportunity she received to start a new life in the United States after the war.

Larry Seeger’s military story encompassed 61 years of service, 46 in the Army National Guard and Reserves and 15 more in the Coast Guard Auxiliary. His postings included survey specialist, combat engineer, military police and a long stint as an intelligence officer. He treasures two gifts he received upon his retirement in 2011: a U.S. flag that had flown over the USS Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor and the Department of Defense Meritorious Service Medal.

Don Gingles spoke of receiving his wings as a naval aviator in 1962 and piloting planes during the transition to the jet age. Listing his many postings across the globe, he noted that the phrase “Thank you for your service” should be extended to the families of service personnel, describing the role his wife played.

“We moved a lot,” he said. “Mama was always here, and the kids turned out well.”