Our Colorado Pilgrimage

Note: Skip is the author of this beautiful post as a Memorial Day tribute to his uncle Bob.

One of the unique advantages to our RV travel has been the opportunity to visit important places that we wouldn’t ordinarily find convenient. Such was the case during our work project stay at Glen Eyrie in Colorado Springs during the month of May.

Last fall, I learned about this place north of Leadville, Colorado, (some 85 miles from the Springs), called Camp Hale, as it recently became designated a new National Monument. My sweet travel planner was gracious to schedule a weekend visit to Camp Hale during our first weekend off. It would turn into a pilgrimage of sorts to search out and walk the grounds that my uncle Bob walked during his World War II experience with the 87th Mountain Infantry, 10th Mountain Division, training and preparing to later engage the Germans in the mountainous elevations of northern Italy, April 1945.

Over my years, Corporal Robert W. Stromberg was for me that mysterious empty seat at the family holiday gatherings. Dad didn’t share much about his brother Bob, but he did give me his name, Steven Robert. I have worn that name proudly, understanding the sacrifice that was laid down in service to country.

Uncle Bob was killed in action by German artillery on April 14, 1945. It was the first or second day of the primary engagement in the Po Valley of the northern Apennine Mountains.  Unknown to uncle Bob at the time, orders en route to him to report to Officer Training School.  The fall of Berlin, V-E Day, followed about three weeks later on May 8, 1945; the irony haunts me. 

There isn’t much to see at Camp Hale but some old roads and a dilapidated concrete foundation of what might have been some kind of pavilion. Cooper Mountain ski area is just to the south near the Tennessee Pass were the 10th mountain trained for armed downhill cross-country skiing. I remember mother saying that the army recruited boys from Minnesota due to the hearty Scandinavian stock and ready acclamation to cold and snow.

At the entrance to Cooper Mountain ski area is an impressive monument to the 990 men of the 10th Mountain who died along with Uncle Bob. To see his name etched in stone, caught me with reverence, sadness, but also pride. This monument was erected in 1959 and even during my years 1978 through 1980 living in Denver, I was unaware of its existence.  I’m not sure even my dad knew of it.

Coming up this weekend is Memorial Day, a day in which our family would often visit the family plot at Hillside up in nordeast Minneapolis. Corporal Robert W. Stromberg is buried there but his name is also chiseled into granite overlooking the Colorado Rocky Mountains.

What an honor and privilege it was to see, pay respect, and give tribute to my Uncle Bob. As we travel home back to Minnesota this coming Memorial Day weekend I will remember all of the sacrifices that have borne the fruit of freedom and prosperity with which I have been blessed all of my years.