Macon veteran was face of World War II

Barbara Wood was watching a documentary the night of Sept. 23, 2007, when a familiar face appeared on the television screen.

It was the image of an American soldier. A bazooka was propped on his left shoulder.  There was a weariness in his eyes.

Wood grew up with that face. As a child, it greeted her in the living room of her grandparents’ home in
Macon. 

The world recognized the face, too. It became one of the iconic images of World War II and had been resurrected for filmmaker Ken Burns’ seven-part PBS documentary, “The War.” 

It also appeared on the front of U.S. News and World Report to promote a story about  Burns’ documentary.

It was not the first time the Macon soldier had been a cover boy. 

In December 1944, when Wood was 8 years old, Time magazine used the photograph to represent its “Army Man of the Year.” It symbolized the loneliness and fatigue of war three years after America entered the greatest conflict in human history.

The picture appeared in The Stars and Stripes publication and newspapers across the country. The New York Times, which had a reputation for not running large photographs, reproduced the image at 5×8 inches.

The caption identified the soldier as Pfc. Thomas Kilgore, of Macon, Georgia.

It was her Uncle Tom.

Wood still thinks of her Uncle Tom on Veterans Day. She remembers his sacrifices and remains grateful for his service.

Veterans Day is also a sad day for her. Her husband, Wade, died seven years ago on Nov. 11, 2017. They were married 62 years. 

Wood is now retired after working in administration at Macon’s City Hall under seven mayors — Ronnie Thompson, Buck Melton, George Israel, Lee Robinson, David Carter, Tommy Olmstead and Jim Marshall.

She remembers a framed photo of her uncle’s famous pose in the living room of her grandparents’ home on Trammel Avenue in the Peach Orchard. 

Her family would visit every Sunday afternoon. They would turn off Broadway in South Macon and cross the big bridge over the train tracks to the working-class neighborhood. 

Wood’s father, James, was the second-oldest of the 11 Kilgore children. Her Uncle Tom was the fourth child. She remembers him as a friendly, but quiet man.

“He was somewhat of a recluse,’’ she said. “I think the war probably changed him. He lived with my grandparents. He was always there when we visited.’’

Four of the Kilgore brothers served in the military.  Tom and Fred were in the Army. Frank and Clarence were in the Navy.

Thomas Kilgore was a member of Company D of the Eighth Division’s 121st Infantry, the Gray Bonnet
Regiment. 

His company landed in France in July 1944, one month after D-Day, and pushed across Europe under the command of  Gen. George Patton.

With the Germans in retreat, the Americans engaged in the Battle of Hurtgen Forest, the longest single battle (114 days) in U.S. Army history.

During a break in the fighting one December day, several soldiers stopped to rest before entering the forest. They were knee-deep in snow and ice. Kilgore never saw much of the white stuff back home in Georgia.

He was resting against his bazooka when a signal corpsman walked past him and asked to take his photo.

It was first published 80 years ago — on Dec. 13, 1944 — and it struck a chord with Americans because of the holidays. It brought letters from as far away as Australia. After seeing it in one publication, a person mailed the clipping to the Kilgore family and printed the words “(I’m Dreaming of a) White Christmas.”

Now, when she studies the photograph of her uncle, Wood sees the shape of her father’s face, and the same dark hair and eyebrows.

 But she mostly sees a pervasive sadness in his eyes.

“It was so close to Christmas,’’ she said. “And he was so far away from home.” 

After the war, Kilgore worked as an electrician in the maintenance department for the Bibb County Board of Education.  

He never married. He never talked much about the war or his brush with fame. His parents left him the house in their will. He died of natural causes on Feb. 25, 1982, and is buried in the family plot at Macon Memorial Park.

Kilgore may have put a face on the war, but his commanding officer, Gen. Robert Jones, respectfully disagreed with those who portrayed it as a sorrowful one.  

In his remarks at a meeting of the 121st Infantry in Macon in 1977,  Jones said Kilgore’s eyes instead showed “dedication and determination to finish the war and get back home.’’

“Kilgore, like all of us,’’ he said, “wanted to make this country safe for future generations to come.”