The notable 1942 train wreck

The notion that the past never dies, but reverberates on forever, receives a kind of confirmation from occasional looks back at a notable train wreck near Nevada in 1942.

In 1997 the Vernon County Historical Society received the following letter from Frank Santorufo, of Port Richey, Fla:

(Advertisement)

"I am an 81-year-old World War Two disabled veteran. My disability was caused by a train wreck Dec. 12, 1942, just outside Nevada. My visit was bring prisoners of war to Camp Clark. I was buried in the wreck of the kitchen car, an old wooden boxcar. All my body was burnt with third-degree burns. I was not expected to live.

"For 50 years I tried to locate an angel of mercy that took care of me like a baby during my hospital stay. She was suddenly sent to Australia, and I never saw her again. Today I made contact with her brother. She passed away in 1994. My prayers will be with her for as long as I live. I wonder if you could find information on the wreck and mail it to me. Pictures or just names would be a big help. Two of my buddies that died were Louis Boudreau and Duffy, a boy who was decapitated. I've lived with this nightmare all these years. Can't sleep nights. Please help."

The historical society sent Santorufo a copy of the Nevada Daily Mail account of the wreck, the only information at our disposal, and did not hear any more from him. Unfortunately he failed to give the name of his "angel of mercy," so we're unable to say whether she was a local girl. It's also unclear whether Santorufo was hospitalized at Nevada's hospital or Camp Clark's.

Then, more lately, on Oct. 31, Phil Evans, of Highland, Ind., visited the Bushwhacker Museum. He brought a sketch-map delineating in detail the 1942 train wreck in which Santorufo received his injuries. It was made by Charles Grove, grandfather of Evans' wife; Diane. He made it for his 5-year-old grandson, Gary Smith. In a corner of the sketch he wrote, "How would you like to have been there, Gary?"

Grove was boss of a railroad section crew that had ridden a motorized hand-car to the site that fateful day to work on repairing the track. The hand-car was off the rails when the prisoner-of-war train barreled through and derailed, but it was "tore all to pieces" anyway.

Grove "saw more military action" that day, he said, than he ever expected to see in all his life, what with excited, suspicious guards milling about with machine guns.

The Daily Mail's account of the wreck, in the Dec. 13 issue, was rather sparing, no doubt due to military censorship. The paper depended on the command for information, and Lt. Col. R.R. Morrison, Camp Clark's commanding officer, was concerned mostly with assuring the public that none of the prisoners had escaped: "We have them all safe at Camp Clark, and everything is now well under control."

State guards, highway patrolmen, Nevada police and police department auxiliaries, county law enforcement officers, American Legion members, and citizen volunteers were rushed to the scene, and sealed off roads within a ten-mile radius, all the way to the camp. The site remained sealed off till the FBI and security police completed their investigation. Eyewitnesses all spoke of soldiers brandishing machine guns at the scene, where "utter chaos" prevailed, compounded by the fact that the prisoners knew not a word of English. Some of the guards bore Italian names; doubtless they were recruited for the mission as interpreters. The jittery authorities first presumed the wreck was caused by sabotage. The docile prisoners gave no trouble, however, and were swiftly removed to the camp by ambulance and truck.

The Missouri Pacific special train was steaming south at 65 miles per hour, after making a brief stop at Rich Hill to pick up bread, when it struck a broken rail, technically described as a "transverse fissure," near the bottom of Sand Top Hill, located just west of the entrance to the present Elks Lake, about six miles north of Nevada. The road, which crossed the Marmaton at the Cephas Ford or Click Sawmill bridge, as well as the west edge of Sand Lake, was the route of the former Jefferson Highway. The old road bridge is now long gone but the railroad still travels through this low, swampy bottom.

The steam locomotive and two cars remained on the track, according to Charles Grove. Seven cars left the track, tumbling down the steep embankment where the track traverses the swampy river bottoms. All were steel cars except the wooden kitchen car located in the middle.

Sixty-five Italian prisoners rode in each car. In all, 67 were injured, though miraculously none were killed. The two fatalities were American soldiers. Private William R. Duffy had his head out the window at the moment of the crash and was gruesomely beheaded. Private Bernard Boudreau, of Bedford, Maine, died of his injuries a day later. Six other soldiers were listed as wounded, including Sergeant Frank H. Santorufo, whose name the newspaper managed to misspell. The paper, however, did confirm that he suffered "third-degree burns." One soldier was first despaired of, having been buried in the wreckage, but finally he was dug out, uninjured.

Public accounts paid far less attention to the prisoners, who numbered 350, distributed 65 to a car.

According to Charles Grove, they all wore wine-colored uniforms and black shoes. Their capture had taken place in North Africa. They were mostly peasants with little enthusiasm for the war, relieved to be in the relative comfort of American captivity.

The track was torn up so badly, and strewn with wreckage, that traffic had to be "routed' around by Fort Scott." But repairs soon allowed normal rail traffic to resume.

Camp Clark had officially opened as a prisoner-of-war camp only on Nov. 6. The Dec. 12 train was bringing the first of an expected 5,000 Italians.

"It was ironic," Betty Sterett wrote, "that these men had traveled more than 6,000 miles from North Africa without incident until they were less than seven miles from their destination."