Andrew and Arnold VanderWall
Faces of Five Wars
Story by Karin Orr
Portrait by David J. DeJonge

Historical original interview; not a current biography.
Recovered original Word document: AOM 1C Andrew and Arnold Vander Wall.doc

AOM 1C Andrew and Arnold Vander Wall
U.S. Navy
World War II

Back in World War II, Arnold and Andrew Vanderwall were the Top Guns of their time.  Featured on bond tours and in a 1945 National Geographic article, the mirror twins were described in one newspaper account as “two of the finest looking specimens of sailor you’ll find in Uncle Sam’s Navy . . . tall, blond and rugged.”

Now 79, the youthful-looking VanderWalls are still remarkably alike, except Andrew has had a moustache since leaving the service.  “If I had a face like that, I’d cover it up too,” quips Arnold.  Graduates of Creston High School, the twins attended Calvin College, competed in the Golden Gloves, and became tool and die makers before enlisting.  After the war, they married and raised families.  While Arnold still lives in the Grand Rapids area, Andrew is up north in Alanson, where he has a prison ministry at Pellston.  But the twins meet weekly in Cadillac for coffee and reminiscing.  

Though both VanderWalls wanted to be pilots, they feared the war would be over before they earned their wings.  So they became torpedo gunners and somehow managed to be assigned, together, to the Fighting Sevens Air Group, which flew off the U.S.S. Hancock.  Their planes were Grumman Avengers, better known as “flying coffins,” Andrew notes, “because they were slow and they were loaded.”

Occasionally Andrew and Arnold flew on the same mission as radioman and gunner.  Several times they substituted for one another without anyone else’s knowing.  But usually, Arnold flew in the first wing with the skipper, and Andrew flew with the skipper in the second wing.  “By the time we would hit the targets and were on our way back,” Arnold explains, “we’d radio in, and they’re on the way out . . . That way Andy would know I was coming back, and I’d know he was going out.”

The system worked pretty well, except for one mission when Arnold’s plane was overdue, the time allotted for fuel on board nearly exhausted.  “It got to be awful close, and I was really scared and worried, “Andrew says, tears welling up with the memory.  Fortunately, Arnold had landed safely elsewhere; and by the end of the war, each VanderWall had over 500 combat hours in the South Pacific off a carrier.

“I guess that’s pretty good,” Arnold muses, “because most people got shot down.”  Both VanderWalls had close calls and have many awards between them for meritorious service.  For the Battle of Leyte Gulf, Arnold received the Distinguished Flying Cross.  Andrew was recommended for the Distinguished Flying Cross.  Both received the Air Medal with three stars in lieu of second and third Air Medals. 

Both also had encounters with kamikaze pilots, who tried to crash their explosive-rigged planes into American ships.  These attacks resulted in the loss of some 400 American ships and nearly 10,000 seamen’s lives.  But only once did either of the VanderWalls fear they might die.  One of the first times out, Andrew and his mates were suddenly surrounded by Japanese planes and beautiful clouds that made the sky look like “the valley of the shadow of death.”  All of the sudden, “I wasn’t afraid anymore,” Andrew remembers.  “I thought . . . if I can go through the Valley of the Shadow of Death and fear no evil, then God is with me.”

“I had the same feeling as Andy,” Arnold says.  “It was a feeling that we were safe . . . no matter what happened.”  For both men, Andrew concludes, “It was sort of a sense of destiny before we even started,” because they had grown up, “saluting the flag and tears in our eyes when we sang the Star Spangled Banner.”