Separated by 60 years, some lost letters and a world war, two high school sweethearts recently reunited as friends - just in time for their 80s. Their long goodbye in 1943 came while waiting for a train bound for basic training in Amarillo, Texas.

That day, Arthur Baisch, now 83, his parents and his first girlfriend of two years Marilyn Brooks, all stood together at the Minidoka stop.

"I think it was January. It was dark and it was cold, and we were standing out there waiting for the train to come. It was just a very sad time," said Brooks, now 81.

On that chilly day in rural Idaho, she stood by Baisch's parents and said goodbye to the "wonderful fellow" she dated from Hazelton.

Then they didn't see each other for more than 60 years.

Off to war

As internment camps were being filled with people of Japanese descent in Minidoka, and young men were leaving for battle - there was still a strong vibe of national support for World War II.

But there was also unhappiness.

"It was like everyone you knew, who were men, were going off to war. It was heartbreaking," Brooks said.

But for Baisch, it was what American men were supposed to do.

"That war was different. Practically our whole class was either drafted or enlisted. It was what you thought you should do," said Baisch, who graduated from high school in Hazelton.

And Baisch didn't wait to be drafted - he enlisted. He liked planes and he wanted to fight from the air rather than the ground. So he joined the United States Army Air Forces after passing its selection tests.

During basic training he chose to become a gunner on a ball turret attached to the belly of a B-24 Liberator. That gave him one of the best views of the European theater between 1943 and 1945.

Inside a compact one-man sphere equipped with guns, glass and isolation, Baisch battled the Axis. He almost wasn't allowed to take the post, though, because of his height - but he was "agile" he said, so he was given the position.

Now an older man, Baisch rocked in the recliner in his living room recounting the turbulence from enemy flak. He said they often flew over Munich and shot at railroads and oil yards.

"We tried to cripple them from moving on the ground," Baisch said.

Baisch's crew was never fatally hit, and Baisch said he was never scared. He was the youngest on his crew, which knocked down three enemy planes, or ME-109s, during their two years at war.

"We got bullet holes. We got hit lightly with flak," Baisch said. "Every trip there was probably a lot of luck."

To throw off German gunners on the ground, Baisch said they released shiny metallic material similar to Christmas tree tinsel, which looked like planes from the ground.

Injury-wise, Baisch said he faired well. Except for a minor burn he got on his ankle from an electrically heated flight suit.

"They said I should have gotten the Purple Heart for that," Baisch said with a chuckle.

Thoughts of home

When they weren't flying there was a lot of time to think about people at home, Baisch said. He considers writing "cold" but he did send letters home during the war, he said.

Those that arrived, though, were sometimes missing pieces, like ones he sent to his parents.

"Everything was censored," Baisch said. "Pieces were cut out."

After every mission, "interrogators" would speak with Baisch, he said, to learn about what they saw from the air during their missions.

And there were other letters, though, which apparently never made it home - like ones addressed to Brooks.

"I'm sure I got letters from her in war, but I didn't keep any. I know I wrote her plenty of times," Baisch said.

But they don't know what happened to their letters.

"It was like all of a sudden I didn't hear from him anymore. We were young and I thought, well, I knew he was overseas," she said. "I didn't think he'd found anyone else, but I thought maybe he decided when he came home he wanted to be free to see others. When you're young you hear all sorts of things."

Brooks was sad but she said she understood.

"He had been in a war and he probably wanted to experience something new," she said.

But at only 18, Baisch said he didn't see anyone else overseas. The military even went to extremes to ensure its troops based in Attleborough, England stayed away from foreign women, Baisch said.

"I never left the base. I didn't have any reason to. I had my girl at home," Baisch said.

Baisch and his high school sweetheart may have stayed together after the war - but Brooks was already married when Baisch returned.

She had married a man who had been discharged, and they raised a family and lived together in California, until Brooks was widowed.

Baisch went to college, married and had six children - which he raised with his wife in a home he built in Hazelton on land his parents gave him after the war. Baisch and his wife divorced around 15 years ago, he said.

A reunion

Baisch and Brooks reunited around three years ago - over the phone - after Brooks went to a high school reunion attended by one of Baisch's friends.

"I came home and there was a message on my answering machine from Arthur Baisch," she said. "It was a voice from the past. I listened to it twice and we chatted for the longest time."

Baisch has a lot of pictures he's collected in his long-time home. As a true patriot, one of his framed favorites show an image of Uncle Sam crafted from 9,000 WWI servicemen - Baisch's uncle lies somewhere in Sam's beard, he said.

Images of Baisch's children and grandchildren also adorn the crowded bookshelves. In that vast collection of pictures there's also one of Brooks - one is recent, from a visit they shared smiling next to each other in Idaho.

But another is old - a black and white portrait of Brooks with a coiffure crafted from pin curls.

"I think our lives turned out the way they were supposed to, and it's nice to have that friendship again," Brooks said.

Many of the people who knew Baisch during WWII are gone. He said he doesn't know what became of his old crew members, who were mostly from the East Coast. They lost touch after the war, Baisch said.

And his five high school buddies who enlisted with him in Boise have since passed away, he said.

In spike of these losses, the message today on Veterans Day is still strong.

"It means we did something right," Baisch said.

Andrea Gates can be reached at Andrea.Gates@lee.net or at 735-3380.