This is the first part of a two-part series on a Kirkland resident and World War II veteran. Some of the descriptions in these stories may not be suitable for younger readers.

If there was a quintessential American GI during World War II, 91-year-old Kirkland resident Art Schladerman has a strong claim to the title.

An engineer with the First Army, he was the first man out of his landing craft on D-Day, June 6, 1944 as part of the third wave of troops storming the Normandy beachhead code-named “Omaha.” Following the invasion, he was attached to General George Patton’s Third Army and fought in northern France before eventually being transferred to the Ninth Army commanded by General William Simpson.

In all, he participated in four campaigns, earning the Silver Star as well as a Purple Heart.

A life-long artist now living at Aegis of Kirkland in the Totem Lake neighborhood, Schladerman drew illustrations of his experiences in the spirit of World War II cartoonist Bill Mauldin, whose “Willie and Joe” serial was enjoyed by millions of other GIs. Many of the sketches follow in that same cartoonish exaggeration, while others depict somber events, giving it a war correspondent feel a la Ernie Pyle.

The sketches reveal him to be a soldier’s soldier, portraying the officers as imbeciles, even though he didn’t think they were, while recounting many haunting events, including a firefight where his comrades were forced to pull the upper part of a man’s body off a tank destroyer, another when he played dead along with a wounded man when they were discovered by several German soldiers.

It’s not just his sketches where he has tried to keep the details accurate. Schladerman said he has always tried to tell it as it was without any embellishments. Some of his recollections were included in “I Was With Patton” by D.A. Lande, a book featuring stories of soldiers who had served in the Third Army.

“I was just a GI and I did what they told me to do,” he said. “We were all the same.”

His down-to-earth mentality matched well with what might be seen as a practical approach in how he viewed the war. Drafted into the Army in 1943, he said he wasn’t gung-ho about fighting.

“I had better sense than that,” he said.

Going through basic training Virginia, then in Arkansas, he later trained with the 8th Cavalry Reconnaissance Regiment in the desert between California and Arizona. He learned to be a radio operator with a recon unit operating with a halftrack. It was during this training he nearly killed an officer while on guard duty. Under a new policy, the guards were required to have live ammunition in their pistols. After firing a shot in the air when a jeep failed to stop in front of him according to procedure, a lieutenant driving the jeep got out, incensed, and tried to disarm Schladerman. As he reached for the pistol, Schladerman accidentally discharged another shot, this one missing the officer’s head by a few inches. He was relieved by the Corporal of the Guard, but no punishment or reprimand was given (the scene is among Schladerman’s sketches).

The next morning, the regimental commander assembled the entire regiment and announced no more live ammunition would be given to guards.

“Though I was not named, everyone knew he was referring to me,” Schladerman reflected. “I never pulled guard duty again.”

After completing training in the southwest, they were transported to New York, where they sailed on the Queen Mary to England. Stationed in Trowbridge, a town southeast of Bristol, it was there Schladerman first started using his spare time to draw sketches, sending them home in the mail.

“It’s always been a part of my life,” he said of drawing. “I have always been an artist of some sort. I could draw people, and I have to say I was pretty good.”

The cartoons reflected his perspective as a private, he said, and what it was like to be under the continuous authority of superior officers. His cartoons were also inspired by pranks pulled by junior officers.

“I had a humor that was crude,” he admitted.

Eventually, one day he was ordered to report to his captain, who informed him about the Army’s strict mail censorship before showing one of his cartoons seized by his platoon leader, depicting “one of my best of a bumbling, buffoon and inept officer.”

However, rather than receiving a harsh rebuke, he watched in disbelief as the captain burst into laughter. He then told Schladerman he could draw whatever he wanted. He would even get the writing material necessary. However, he would have to inspect the sketches first before mailing them.

When Schladerman finally shipped out in his landing craft along with thousands of other men in 29th Infantry Division under the First Army as part of Operation Overlord, the planned Allied invasion of Normandy, he had no illusions about his odds of survival.

Just days before they left, they had received their orders. As a combat engineer, he would go along with other engineers as part of the third wave to hit Omaha Beach.

After receiving their orders, the provost marshall present then offered them two options; either agree to the orders, in which they had a 50/50 chance of surviving, or sign papers refusing the orders – which Schladerman knew was a certain death sentence in front of a firing squad or under the gallows.

“What a choice,” he reflected. “No one signed the second sheet.”