Angels in Herbert’s Life
By Howard W. Gabriel III

It was a calm Saturday afternoon and I was visiting with one of my neighbors and his little great-granddaughter. Herbert E. Fangslicer was an older but very fine person. His great granddaughter was very inquisitive on this fine day, pondering heavy issues for one so young.
“Grandpa, do you believe in angels?” she wondered. “Have you ever been helped by one? Have you seen any angels?” she continued.
“Whoa!” laughed her great-grandfather, who gave the whole matter some serious thought. “Now I’m not saying there are angels, but I’m not saying there aren’t angels,” he remarked. “But I can tell you about things that happened to me, if you like.”
“Oh yes, grandpa, tell me everything!” she pleaded.
I could only smile at the beautiful, sincere, young lady as we all sat down on chairs. I too wondered what Herbert would have to tell. He was known around the neighborhood as a great story teller. Sometimes folks had trouble deciphering truth, from exaggeration. Perhaps that’s a noble feature of a great story.
Anyhow, the old man began to tell events as he thought about his life. I have recorded the events as best I could for you dear readers as follows:

#1: First, he recalled how as a youngster he took swimming lessons from the Red Cross. At one point he got overwhelmed by weakness in the middle of the pool. It was toward the end of the lesson and he was very tired. As his strokes got sluggish he began to swallow and gag on water. There were no adults or other swimmers near by. As he started to panic, he suddenly was leveled out on the water. He glanced around as he successfully completed the length of the pool. His mother had witnessed everything from outside the pool area fence. She too had become alarmed until she saw him smooth out on the water. When she asked him about it, he simply said that he had accidentally gulped some water. However, they both thought about it all the way home.

#2: Next, he remembered another event from his childhood. He was about ten years old and was in the woods with a pal. Suddenly, he felt something strike his upper arm. It really hurt and left a red mark. What happened? Then he spotted a couple of boys coming through the woods towards him. They had been shooting their BB guns and one shot had struck him. He was particularly upset about this accident because only a few years before a friend had been struck in the eye. His friend had lost the vision in his eye. How fortunate he felt at the time.

#3: When Herbert was about 17, he was with a buddy heading for an exciting Friday night out on the town. His buddy was driving a very small automobile. Unfortunately, Herbert’s friend was thinking a bit too much about their fun evening as they approached a major intersection. Herbert sensed his pal did not see the red light. Herbert mentioned it to the driver, but they ran through it. Their car was broadsided and flipped over. Wearing no seat belts in those days, they both ended up sitting on the top of the car which had landed up side down. As they flew through the air, Herbert thought they would both die. The driver suffered only minor scratches, while Herbert was not even bruised or scratched.

#4: In his first year of college he got a chance to go to Mexico a few times with classmates. One time they were returning at 4:00 a.m. and had to travel on a dangerous highway along the coast. He tried to be the driver, but the car belonged to another guy. This person was really tired and Herbert felt he would be the best driver among the group. The car’s owner assured the group that he would play the radio loud to prevent him from falling asleep. For several miles Herbert had worried about this, but he finally dozed off to sleep. Crack! Crack! Herbert came out of his sleep to discover that the car was striking the inside rail repeatedly. This guardrail prevented the car from going into the other lane. Herbert was in the front seat and yelled at the driver, who seemed to be in a trance. The driver’s foot had the throttle pressed down and the car was speeding to their destruction. Herbert then thanked God for not having any other cars on the highway. Then he discovered that the guardrail was about to disappear soon. They were driving on the side of a hill bordering the ocean. The car would go off the road and they would surely be killed. Herbert punched the driver in the face and grabbed the steering wheel. His quick action had saved three lives. It turned out the driver was unresponsive because he had been dreaming that he was awake while driving. Only Herbert’s quick actions had saved their lives. Herbert always wondered if that was all there was to it.

#5: One evening he was driving home from evening college classes in Los Angeles. He got lost among the countless freeways and couldn’t get a sense of direction. After a couple of hours, he grew panicky. He figured that he would either run out of gas or end up in a rough neighborhood. His desperation mounted until he remembered that God had answered his prayers before—not that he felt he deserved any special consideration. After admitting that he was in God’s will at that moment, he saw a gas station. He stopped and pleaded for directions to his apartment. After 3 hours of driving around Los Angeles at night, he admitted to the attendant that he had no idea where he was. The attendant shook his head in amazement. He then told Herbert that all he had to do was turn left at the next intersection and go a few miles until he came to the street where Herbert lived. Herbert was three hours in darkness, before reaching light.

#6: A few years later, Herbert was driving in a winter storm in Oregon. It was icy road conditions and difficult to see. Darkness had begun and Herbert was looking for a place to pull off the road safely. Suddenly he thought he saw someone in the middle of the highway. He hit the brakes and tried to adjust the car. He traveled off the highway and went down the side some 30 yards. Herbert said what he thought would be his last prayers. Only 21 at the time, he thanked God for a wonderful life. The big car he was driving came to a sudden stop and Herbert was not hurt. He slowly opened the door and got out of the car. Soon he discovered that giant boulders were on both sides of the car. Somehow the car had traveled down the steep embankment and came to rest between two boulders that were nearly the size of his automobile. This in darkness! Herbert was glad it hadn’t been daylight since the thrill of landing between the boulders may have given him a heart attack.
Some travelers saw his lights go off the road and yelled to him. He said he was fine and he climbed up the 30 yard embankment as the snow continued.
When the tow truck came later, the driver was incredulous. He told Herbert that no one parks between such large boulders. Furthermore, there was a lake about a hundred yards down the road. If Herbert had gone off at that point, they would have found him the next spring! That’s what people discovered there each spring.

#7: A year later Herbert found himself driving in the darkness of rural Wisconsin. A big truck was bearing down on him when suddenly he started losing the control of his vehicle. A blow out! He had no idea of what was on the side of the road, but he had to go there. As he came to a stop, the large truck roared by, almost striking Herbert’s vehicle. In the dark he managed to put the spare tire on as cars and trucks raced by. There was little margin of space and he thanked God as he returned to the highway.

#8: The next year Herbert was renting a nice apartment on the third floor of an old house in Michigan. The landlord had mentioned that Herbert would probably smell smoke throughout the day because they were converting their heating system from coal. Fangslicer smelled smoke all morning as the landlord had predicted. In the early afternoon, he planned on taking a nice long nap. Something told him, however, to go look out the back bedroom of his bedroom. He stuck his head out the window and saw a man running across the field toward the house. Very strange, thought Herbert. Then Herbert heard the man yelling fire, fire! Herbert peered down and saw the flames approach him, almost reaching his nose. He called the fire department and saved the structure. He lost his entire wardrobe, but not his life. It was a fair enough deal, according to Herbert.

#9: Only a year later, Fangslicer was driving along a rural Utah highway, when his alternator went out. The headlights of his car were fading fast and once again he was trailed by large trucks. He could barely see the side of the highway in the darkness. There didn’t seem to be anywhere to get off the road. As the lights dimmed to nothing, he saw a small clearing. He went for broke and drove off the side. The truck tailing him blew his horn, but didn’t stop to help. Herbert slept in his car that night. The next morning a couple stopped and took him to a distant garage. It was reassuring to know that there were nice people.

#10: A short time later, Herbert E. Fangslicer was in Utah. He sure got around. One winter night there was a power outage during a storm. He had to do a lot of reading and so he thought of candles. He lived in the trailer with a large dog. Putting some large candles in a metal container, Herbert created enough light to read. Unfortunately for Herbert, he worked too late into the evening and fell asleep. Out of his deep trance came the feeling of something striking his face. The candles had melted and the wax had become a flame so high that it reached the ceiling of the trailer. The dog was pounding Fangslicer’s face. Herbert awoke to the huge torch. He managed to let the dog escape outside but spilled the hot wax on his foot. Using his fire extinguisher, he put out the fire. He applied wet towels to his burned foot and drove to a hospital where they diagnosed second and third degree burns. Throughout all of this Fangslicer wondered why he had let the dog sleep inside that horrible night. Most of the time, the dog slept outside. On this evening, he had decided to let him stay inside. It had saved his life.

#11: Three years later, Herbert was driving along a city boulevard while being upset about one thing or another. He day dreamed. At some point, he decided to make a left turn from the right lane, not noticing a fast moving car in the inside lane. Smack! The two cars collided. Somehow, little damage was done and no one was hurt. The police officer couldn’t understand! Herbert wondered, too.

#12: Only about one year later Fangslicer was parked in traffic when an out of control large vehicle broadsided him and his father. They usually used smaller vehicles, but by a whim had decided on a larger car with a very solid frame. They were struck with such force that their vehicle’s tires were broke as the car went from the street to the sidewalk. They both suffered whiplash to their necks. Again, eyewitnesses were amazed that they weren’t hurt worse. Herbert was thankful.

#13: Several years later, Herbert experience shortness of breath for a number of weeks. He finally turned to the care of physicians and hospitals. He was told that he only had a week or so to live. A serious open heart surgery was required. The professionals thought it would help him, if he survived the operation. Herbert said his prayers and went through this difficult time, at peace with himself. And he survived!


The great granddaughter threw her arms around him and said, “Grandpa, the angels love you as much as I do. I’ve got to run, I’ll see you soon.”
Then Herbert faced me and sighed, “There are many others I could have told her, but who has time.”
Who, indeed.

Lyle D. Hunkins - U.S. Army Doughboy, World War I

by
Howard W. Gabriel, Ph.D.

During my childhood, I was fascinated with the life of my great uncle, Lyle Dorlan Hunkins, when he was in his last decade. He lived and worked on a farm full of chickens, hogs, dogs, cats, horses and sheep. The inside of his home had ancient photographs, tools, and other possessions attached to the walls and on the floor everywhere. Although there were two other family houses on the farm, he often found me sitting in his favorite old chair. My eyes would be overwhelmed with wonderment.
Many years later, as an adult, I realized that my great uncle’s life was significantly influenced by World War I.
In 1917, at the age of 23, Lyle was trying to sort out his future. He had lived much of his life as a quiet, sheltered country boy. Since 1914, much of the distant world had been at war. Then on May 18, 1917, universal conscription was accomplished by President Wilson. This affected many individuals just like my great uncle. He entered military service on September 20, 1917. The United States’ combat units in first line trenches are documented as early as January 31, 1918. Lyle Hunkins served first with the 361st Infantry of the 91st Division and later with the 321st Infantry of the 83rd Division. He was a Private 1st Class.

Throughout the summer and fall months of 1918, there were countless skirmishes and battles throughout a large part of France and the American troops were involved in most of them. Throughout the remainder of his life, Lyle Hunkins was pretty mum about his combat experiences. Some of his engagements were in the Mere Henry Sector, St. Die Sector, and the Meuse Argonne Offensive. As a youngster I recall hearing family members talk about far away places like Chateau Thierre, Verdun, Meuse/Argonne region and the Black Forest.
Lyle did reveal to my father, his nephew, of the way he crawled along mud among the thick smoke and forest fog with death’s stench everywhere. My uncle vividly recalled encountering machine gun nests and how they would cross fire at the soldiers from different directions.
Perhaps his favorite story was what happened on the last day of the war. On November 11, 1918, Lyle’s group was down to only a few able men and he realized only too well that they were up against it! The end was in sight. Lyle’s thoughts focused on his company’s main machine gun, which had been acting up. Their ammunition was low. They were checking their bayonets for the hand to hand struggle that would ensue once the Germans overwhelmed them. The Germans were nearby just over a particular hill.
Private First Class Hunkins wondered how his life would actually end. How would his last moments really be like? He wondered what his family members were doing on this day. Did they understand what he had gone through? Did anyone care or give a damn for that matter?
Suddenly the Germans were spotted running over the hill. This was it! But the Germans were not shooting their guns. Lyle figured the Germans had simply gone crazy. The Germans were throwing their hands about and yelling “armistice” in their native language. Was this a hoax or a trap?
There had been a false armistice on November 8, though many soldiers crawling in mud and blood may not have heard of it. Once the Germans were close enough to touch, they took out their wallets and showed photos of their family and loved ones. The German soldiers stuck their fingers into the American pockets, insisting to see the American photos. After a while, Lyle realized that it was over! He must have grinned some of the mud away.
Upon his honorable discharge in September of 1919, Lyle D. Hunkins received $96.95. His discharge papers noted that he was a man of excellent character and that he received no wounds or medals. Perhaps one or more military personnel told him that they appreciated his efforts. Let us hope so!
As for receiving no wounds, he did experience ruthless nightmares for much of his life. His last 25 years were spent on a farm off Chalk Hill Road near Healdsburg, California. Family members recalled that anytime some stranger needed help with their car or had some other crisis, Lyle would help them. He kept parts for many cars. He always gave of his time and possessions freely. Helping others, even strangers, gave him much satisfaction. A few people thought he was a fool for never charging anything for his efforts.
I have always missed my great uncle Lyle. I realize that he, like so many of his generation, was a very special and important human being.

The Legend of Captain Jack
By
Howard W. Gabriel III, Ph.D.

Many of us have a family ancestor who stands out above the rest. Such a person makes us proud and should never be forgotten.
This is an account of my great uncle, Earl L. (Jack) Shryver, a man known throughout northern California until his untimely death in 1938. Captain Jack, as he was called, was the highest ranking California Highway Patrol (CHP) officer ever killed on duty. Prior to his death, Shryver had passed the California inspector exams and was number one on the civil service list for promotion.
Jack Shryver was born in 1893, a time still dominated by horse and buggy. During his forty five year life span, he experienced an incredible era of American history. He lived through many technological advances including: train and trolley car expansion; telephones; radios; electric light bulbs and other electrical appliances; silent and then talking movies; indoor plumbing; motorized vehicles; construction of countless roads and highways; creation of giant buildings and great bridges; and, of course, the airplane.
Shryver lived during a time that featured: vaudeville and live theater shows; a 200% expansion in the United States population; World War I; the rise of large cities and big business; prohibition and the gangster phenomena; labor unrest; new “miracle” medical advances; and the Great Depression.
Jack Shryver enjoyed childhood around his birthplace of Roanoke, Virginia. The mystique and adventurous nature of the nearby Atlantic Ocean no doubt influenced his decision to join the Navy at age 16. After serving four years, he traveled to Colorado, where he graduated from Denver High School. Shryver then attended the University of Colorado for three years, studying electronics.
When WWI broke out Shryver once again joined the arm forces in 1917, receiving a commission of Chief Electrician for the Radio-Aviation service in France and Asia.
After the war, Shryver landed in Sausalito, California where he was employed as a telegraph operator and agent for the Northwestern Pacific Railroad for six years. During this period he married Gladys V. Hunkins.
A major public concern during this time was safety on the roads. There were more people going everywhere and they were driving faster cars. The development and enforcement of laws, insurance, emergency services and the construction of roads all lagged behind these demands. The California Highway Patrol (CHP) was started in the 1920’s in response to these challenges. It was originally operated at the county level but became a state agency by 1929. Jack Shryver joined the CHP in 1925, serving as head of highway patrol operations for Sonoma County.

During his tenure with the CHP there were many prohibition enforcement challenges until its repeal in 1932. Shryver left among his many possessions loaded/fixed dice from raids. He also left his tear gas gun which had helped get suspects out of buildings.
Shryver was an expert with fire arms. He won many medals in regional and national competition.
Although a resident of Santa Rosa, he served as instructor of fire arms at the State CHP Academy in Sacramento. Somehow Shryver made the time to serve as a leader of many fraternal and civic organizations.
Captain Jack was a motorcycle patrol officer for several years. The motorcycle proved useful in many traffic chases and jams. In later years Shryver drove a CHP car which was featured in publicity photographs at the dedication of the Golden Gate Bridge in 1937.
One day Shryver went to direct memorial holiday traffic on Highway 101 at a dangerous curve near railroad tracks. While trying to slow down traffic by standing in the middle of the highway, Shryver was struck by a vehicle pulling a trailer. His body was tossed into the other lane of traffic striking another vehicle before ending up under the trailer pulled by the first car to hit him.
Even the top surgeons in California could not save Shryver. He put up a gallant fight to survive but died July 10, 1938 with his loving wife by his side.
Captain Jack’s funeral was a major recorded California event that year. Shryver had served the people as a peace officer during an era when the public needed heroes. He was considered a just man of great courage and a sense of duty. Shryver was also noted for his love of family and friends, always willing to give the other fellow a chance.
Captain Jack Shryver was, indeed a real 20th century hero.