WAGONER, Clyde 1892-1918

WAGONER, WILKEN

Posted By: Joe Conroy (email)
Date: 5/30/2010 at 20:13:02

Waterloo Evening Courier
Waterloo, Iowa
10 May 1918
Page 8

Wesley Clyde Wagoner, of Waterloo, is dead on the battlefields of France.

When official advice of the tragedy reached his mother, Mrs. Carl Wilken, 334 Fremont street, at 5 p.m. yesterday, she was home alone. She rushed into the yard, screamed, and fell into a semi-conscious condition. She was found by a neighbor, Mrs. F. E. Jirsa, who summoned a physician. Her condition is so serious that a sister, Mrs. R. Flick has been summoned from Jacksonville, Mich., and another sister, Mrs. W. H. Bush, 904 Beech street, is with her constantly.

Landed Two Months Ago

In what manner Mr. Wagoner met death was not disclosed by the war department, the message simply stated he was killed May 4 by having his skull fractured.

Death overtook him exactly two months after landing in France. His enlistment, however, dated Nov. 24, the oath having been administered at Detroit, Mich., where he was in the service of the government as foreman in an airplane factory. He was assigned to the 124th infantry and recently had been made orderly at headquarters, a position of his duties being those of dispatch bearer. He was 26 years old.

Before going to Detroit, Mr. Wagoner was employed at the Waterloo Gas Engine plant as machinist.

"My Boy Will Be Hero"

It was a mighty proud little mother last Thanksgiving day when Mrs. Wilken was apprised of her son's enlistment. He was her only child and had received the care and attention that usually is lavished upon a son when there is but one child in the family.

"My boy will be a hero if he gets a chance," she had declared time and again to her friends. "My Clyde" and his sacrifice to make the world a safe and fit place for women and children was a topic she never tired of discussing. Her whole maternal life had been wrapped up in him, and his service to his country was uppermost in her mind.

Of late, however, she had felt that all might not be well with the boy. The premonition had grown so strong within the last week or two that she refused to leave the house because she might not be at home when a messenger would call with news from the front. When the doorbell rang yesterday afternoon the fear that it indicated sad tidings gripped her and she had barely strength enough to answer the ring. The shock was complete when she tore open the envelope the messenger handed her.