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Donald Sleeter waited 80 years to stand before the statue that captured his generation’s defining moment.

At 100 years old, the Marshfield Marine veteran finally wheeled up to the Marine Corps War Memorial in Washington, D.C., that towering bronze tribute to Iwo Jima — the very battle that nearly took his life. He was just 17 when he hit those black volcanic beaches in 1945.

“I thought I knew all the answers, ya know?” Sleeter told reporters after his first glimpse of the memorial.

Five Marshfield Boys Who Answered the Call

In 1943, Donald Sleeter was a high school kid in central Wisconsin with four buddies and a mission that felt simple at the time.

“There were five of us boys in high school and we wanted to help clean up the Japanese,” he recalled. “So, we all went in together.”

They enlisted in the Marine Corps as teenagers, part of that massive wave of 16 million Americans who served in World War II. For rural Wisconsin communities like Marshfield — population barely scraping 20,000 back then — every enlistment meant an empty desk at school, an anxious family at home, and a hometown holding its breath.

Sleeter never saw those four friends again. He doesn’t know if they made it home.

Iwo Jima: Securing an Airfield Below the Volcano

By early 1945, Sleeter had already served on Guam before his unit — the 3rd Marine Division — landed on Iwo Jima for one of the war’s bloodiest campaigns.

While the famous flag-raising happened atop Mount Suribachi with the 4th and 5th Divisions, Sleeter’s unit fought below in the volcanic ash and caves, securing the airfield that would save thousands of B-29 bomber crews.

“We were working the ground below, around the volcano to take over the airfield they had there,” Sleeter explained. “So that our planes could land there for fuel or emergencies. That’s what it was all about.”

“It’s about taking someone’s life and saving my own. Those kinds of things that you don’t like to talk about.”

The battle cost 6,800 American lives — nearly all Marines. Sleeter was wounded in action and earned a Purple Heart before his discharge in 1946. Some memories, he says, remain too heavy to revisit even now.

The Honor Flight That Brought Him Home

This spring, Sleeter joined the 55th Never Forgotten Honor Flight from Wisconsin to Washington, D.C. He was the only World War II veteran in a group filled mostly with Korean and Vietnam War vets.

That detail hits different when you realize fewer than 120,000 World War II veterans remain alive today, down from 16 million who served. The window to honor this generation shrinks by hundreds of veterans every single day.

Honor Flights started in 2005 specifically because most WWII vets never got to see their memorial — it didn’t open until 2004. Now, over 250,000 veterans have flown on these all-expenses-paid trips, many from rural communities across the Upper Midwest.

Central Wisconsin Honor Flight, which serves the Marshfield area and much of the Northwoods, completed several spring missions this year. Local VFW posts and American Legion halls across Wood, Price, and Oneida counties fundraise year-round to send veterans.

Why This Matters to the Northwoods

Wisconsin has roughly 300,000 veterans, with significant populations throughout the Northwoods region. These aren’t just statistics — they’re neighbors, volunteers at the fish fry, the guys who still show up to color guard at Memorial Day parades.

When someone like Donald Sleeter finally gets his moment at the memorial, it resonates across every VFW hall from Marshfield to Eagle River. It reminds younger generations what service looked like when small-town kids joined up together and didn’t all come home.

The coverage from WJFW brought Sleeter’s story to thousands of Northwoods households, the kind of local hero recognition that strengthens community bonds and supports veteran mental health initiatives in rural areas where isolation can be deadly.

Here’s what Honor Flight means for our region:

• Connects aging rural veterans to their generation’s story before time runs out
• Builds intergenerational bonds between WWII, Korea, Vietnam, and younger vets
• Generates tourism and donations supporting Northwoods veteran programs
• Provides closure for families who never got to honor their loved ones properly

The Camaraderie That Never Fades

After a lifetime that included both Marine Corps service and a career in law enforcement, Sleeter found something unexpected on his Honor Flight: instant connection with veterans from different wars, different eras, different battles.

“I have never seen so many nice, nice people,” he said. “These veterans, they’ve all got a story to tell. You can try to understand them well without them saying too much.”

That’s the thing about veteran camaraderie in places like the Northwoods. You don’t need to explain everything. The guy at the American Legion hall who served in Korea gets what the Vietnam vet went through without asking. And Sleeter, at 100, understands them all.

“I know what things they were doing, too,” he added. “It’s the kind of camaraderie without having to explain everything.”

A Trip Worth Taking

Sleeter called the experience “wonderful” and said simply: “Everybody should do it.”

For Northwoods families with aging veterans, the message is clear — the time to act is now. The Honor Flight Network prioritizes World War II, Korean War, and terminally ill veterans, but spots fill quickly and the waiting list grows longer as word spreads.

Donald Sleeter waited 80 years to see his memorial. He made it at 100 years old, wheelchair-bound but surrounded by fellow warriors who understood without words. Not every veteran gets that chance.

If you know a Northwoods vet who served before 1975, reach out to Central Wisconsin Honor Flight or your local VFW post. These flights aren’t just tourism — they’re the closure our heroes earned on beaches and hillsides most of us can’t imagine.

Sleeter’s proud of his service and proud of the Marine Corps. After everything he’s seen and carried, he’s finally stood before the monument that tells his generation’s story in bronze and stone. That’s worth the wait, even if it took a century.

Larry Rappley doesn’t move as fast as he used to. At 93, his joints protest a bit more each morning. He’s legally blind now, too.

But that hasn’t stopped him from firing up his tractor, splitting cords of firewood, and maintaining his roadside stand just outside Rhinelander.

For most folks, reaching your 90s is remarkable enough. Rappley has spent nearly a century in the Northwoods woods, and he’s showing no signs of slowing down.

A Lifetime in the Timber

“All my life I’ve been working in the woods,” Rappley says simply. “I love logging and stuff like that.”

It’s that straightforward passion that keeps him on the trails of Oneida County. While commercial logging operations have shifted toward heavy mechanization and younger crews, Rappley sticks to what he knows.

His approach isn’t about maximizing board feet or competing with timber companies. He’s focused on salvage work—cleaning up downed trees, twisted branches, and storm-damaged wood that might otherwise rot where it falls.

“I’m more interested in taking and cleaning the wood up rather than see it go to waste,” he explains.

That philosophy aligns perfectly with Wisconsin DNR sustainable forestry practices, which emphasize salvage harvesting to reduce wildfire fuel and manage invasive species damage. In a region still recovering from emerald ash borer outbreaks, every cleared deadfall helps.

Ugly Sticks Make Pretty Fires

Drive past Rappley’s stand and you’ll see the sign: “Ugly Sticks make pretty fires.”

The gnarled birch, twisted oak, and knotted aspen stacked in cords might not win beauty contests. But they burn just fine, providing affordable heat for neighbors during Northwoods winters that regularly dip to ten below zero.

• Firewood demand has jumped 20% in recent years as fuel costs climb
• Oneida County issued over 1,200 firewood permits in 2024 alone
• Small roadside stands like Rappley’s support informal local economies while keeping urban wood waste out of landfills

What makes his stand special isn’t just the firewood. Peanut butter jars sit beside the woodpiles, hand-labeled for donations.

Those humble jars have collected more than a thousand dollars—every penny going to the Northwoods Veterans Homestead, a nonprofit helping homeless veterans in the region.

Serving Veterans, Again

Rappley is a veteran himself, so supporting fellow servicemembers comes naturally.

“I was glad to be able to be part of it, it’s a big project,” he says of the Veterans Homestead work.

The organization serves over 50 veterans annually across Oneida and Vilas Counties, addressing a veteran homelessness rate that hovers around 15% regionally. With state grants expanding housing services in 2025, every donation from those roadside peanut butter jars matters.

“My grandpa’s always been that perfect example. The way he takes care of the land, the way he takes care of his family, the way that he helps other people. He’s selfless.”

That’s Shauna Johnson talking about her grandfather. She says his example has shaped their entire family’s values—the kind of generational influence you can’t put a price on.

“I can only hope to fill about a fraction of my grandpa’s boots with my little feet,” Johnson adds.

Logging Runs Deep in These Woods

Rappley’s dedication echoes a tradition stretching back generations in the Northwoods.

Rhinelander emerged as a lumber mill town during the 19th-century white pine boom. Those virgin forests were clear-cut by the 1890s, transforming the landscape and the economy in equal measure.

What grew back became second-growth forests—the mixed hardwoods and conifers that now define the region. Modern logging shifted from extraction to stewardship, with operations like the nearby Menominee Indian Reservation demonstrating that you can harvest timber sustainably for over 170 years without depleting the resource.

Small-scale operators like Rappley represent another evolution. They’re not running industrial operations, but they’re keeping woods healthy, providing local resources, and maintaining skills that newer generations often skip in favor of office work.

The Rhinelander Logging Museum preserves that heritage with steam donkey engines and historical equipment. Yet the living history walks the trails every day Rappley climbs onto his tractor.

What 93 Looks Like in the Northwoods

“That’s what it’s about, you get some aches and pains but you recoup,” Rappley says with the matter-of-fact wisdom of someone who’s seen nine decades.

His story resonates because it embodies values the Northwoods holds dear: self-reliance, community support, and respect for the land.

In a region where neighbors still help neighbors and where connection to the outdoors isn’t a hobby but a way of life, Rappley’s example hits home.

Whether he’s splitting wood, stacking cords, or emptying those peanut butter jar donations for veterans, he’s demonstrating that age doesn’t have to mean stepping aside. Not when there’s work to be done and woods to care for.

As another winter approaches and firewood demand climbs, those ugly sticks will keep making pretty fires in homes across Oneida County. And Larry Rappley will keep doing what he’s always done—working the woods he loves, one cord at a time.

The debate over Wisconsin’s most controversial labor law in decades is heating up again in the Northwoods. With the 2026 governor’s race taking shape, Act 10 — the 2011 law that fundamentally changed how public employees negotiate wages and benefits — has become a central campaign issue.

For folks up here who work in schools, county offices, or municipal buildings, this isn’t just political theater. It’s about their paychecks, their retirement, and whether they have a voice at the bargaining table.

What Act 10 Changed for Northwoods Workers

Back in 2011, Governor Scott Walker signed Act 10 into law during what felt like a political earthquake. Thousands protested at the Capitol in Madison, and the law sparked recall elections across the state.

The law stripped most public employees of their ability to negotiate on anything beyond basic wages. Health insurance, working conditions, vacation time — all off the table. It also required unions to recertify annually and eliminated automatic dues collection from paychecks.

Police and firefighters were largely exempted, which has created its own legal headaches over the years.

Tom Tiffany, who represents Wisconsin’s 7th Congressional District and was in the state Assembly when Act 10 passed, defends the law as necessary budget medicine. “What Act 10 did is put elected officials in charge of their budget,” Tiffany says, pointing to the $3 billion deficit the state faced at the time.

Conservative estimates suggest Act 10 has saved Wisconsin taxpayers over $35 billion since implementation. For rural counties like Oneida and Forest, those savings translated to local budgets with more breathing room.

The Workforce Consequences Hit Home

But those savings came with trade-offs that anyone trying to hire teachers or county workers knows all too well.

Mandela Barnes, the former Lieutenant Governor now running for governor, argues the real cost shows up in empty classrooms and unfilled positions. “We have paid so much more in terms of the consequences of a workforce that has been decimated,” Barnes says.

“Act 10 has been a very harmful and divisive law, and it has caused a teacher retention crisis that is hurting every single school district in the state.” — Kelda Roys, Democratic gubernatorial candidate

Drive through Rhinelander or any Northwoods community and talk to school administrators. They’ll tell you about open positions that go unfilled, teachers leaving for Minnesota or Michigan where collective bargaining still exists, and the challenge of convincing young people to enter public service careers.

Union membership in Wisconsin dropped faster than almost anywhere else in the country over the past 15 years. That’s not abstract data — it’s your neighbor who used to teach third grade and now works in the private sector.

What Repeal Would Mean for Taxpayers

Democratic candidates campaigning across Wisconsin have made repealing Act 10 a centerpiece of their platforms. They argue that Wisconsin, which in 1959 became the first state to grant public employees collective bargaining rights, should return to its progressive roots.

The question up here in the Northwoods, where property taxes are already a hot-button issue, is what that would cost.

Tiffany warns that undoing Act 10 would hit homeowners’ wallets hard. “If Act 10 goes away, you’re going to see them go up significantly more than what we saw happen in December,” he says, referring to recent property tax increases.

Barnes and other Democrats counter that even if repeal costs “a billion to two billion dollars per year,” the investment is worth it to rebuild Wisconsin’s public workforce and middle class. They point to the state’s current budget surplus as evidence that the original fiscal crisis justification no longer holds water.

The Numbers Behind the Debate

Here’s what both sides agree happened after Act 10:

• State and local governments gained significantly more control over employee compensation and benefits
• Public sector union membership declined dramatically across Wisconsin
• School districts restructured benefits packages, often requiring higher employee contributions
• Municipal budgets stabilized, though debate continues over whether Act 10 deserves credit
• Teacher recruitment and retention became more challenging, particularly in rural districts

What they disagree on is whether these changes represent smart fiscal management or a race to the bottom that’s hollowing out public services.

The Courts May Decide Before Voters Do

The Wisconsin Supreme Court is expected to hear new legal challenges to Act 10 later this year. Back in 2014, the court upheld the law entirely. But times have changed.

A circuit court judge ruled in 2024 that treating police and firefighters differently than other public employees raises constitutional concerns about equal protection. That decision could open the door to broader challenges.

For Northwoods residents, the legal wrangling matters because it could reshape local government operations regardless of who wins the governor’s race. County boards, school districts, and municipal councils across the region are watching closely.

What This Means for the Northwoods

Whether you see Act 10 as fiscal responsibility or union-busting probably depends on which side of the bargaining table you sit. But up here in the Northwoods, where public sector jobs are a significant part of the economy alongside tourism and forestry, the stakes feel personal.

Local teachers, county workers, and municipal employees make up a meaningful chunk of the year-round workforce. Their household spending supports local businesses. Their kids go to local schools. When their compensation and working conditions change, the ripple effects touch every corner of small-town life.

The 2026 governor’s race will give Wisconsinites a chance to weigh in on whether Act 10’s legacy is worth preserving or if it’s time to restore the collective bargaining rights that once made Wisconsin a national leader in labor policy. That’s a conversation worth having over coffee at your local diner, because the outcome will shape the Northwoods for years to come.

When Helping Out Becomes Dangerous

Early Monday morning in the Town of Belmont, a simple act of roadside courtesy turned into a nightmare. A 27-year-old man stopped his vehicle on Stratton Lake Road around 5:20 a.m. to clear scattered nails and a metal pipe from the pavement—the kind of debris that’s all too common on our rural routes.

While standing beside his vehicle, he was struck by a dark-colored sedan that turned from Fountain Lake Avenue. The impact pinned him against his own car.

The driver didn’t stop. Instead, they backed up and fled south into Waupaca County, leaving the injured man on the side of the road.

What We Know About the Suspect Vehicle

Portage County Sheriff’s deputies are searching for a dark blue or black two-door sedan, possibly an early 2000s Chevrolet Cavalier. The vehicle has distinctive black rims and a white bumper sticker on the driver’s side rear bumper.

The driver is described as a male with short hair. That’s not much to go on, but it’s a start.

These details matter in a community like ours. Somebody knows this car. Somebody’s seen it parked in a driveway or at a gas station with fresh front-end damage.

In rural areas where neighbors look out for each other, leaving someone injured on the roadside isn’t just a crime—it’s a betrayal of the values that hold our communities together.

The Reality of Rural Road Hazards

If you’ve driven Portage County’s back roads, you know the drill. Pipes from logging trucks, nails from construction equipment, farm implements that drop hardware—it all ends up on the pavement eventually.

Most of us would do exactly what this man did: pull over and clear the hazard before someone gets a flat tire or worse. It’s the neighborly thing to do.

Here’s what makes rural roads particularly challenging:

• Limited lighting at dawn and dusk makes debris hard to spot
• Narrow shoulders leave little room for emergency stops
• Lower traffic means longer response times from emergency services
• Spring conditions bring increased debris from winter damage and farm work

According to Wisconsin DOT data, rural crashes linked to environmental hazards account for roughly 20% of incidents in areas like ours. That number climbs during spring when road conditions are still recovering from winter.

A Pattern Worth Watching

This isn’t an isolated incident. Portage County saw a similar pedestrian hit-and-run near Stevens Point back in March, though that suspect was quickly identified thanks to dashcam footage.

Waupaca County—where Monday’s suspect fled—reported two hit-and-runs in April alone, both on rural roads during early morning hours. The Wisconsin State Patrol has issued advisories about the uptick in these incidents across central Wisconsin.

What’s driving the trend? Inattentive driving, yes. But also the false belief that rural roads offer anonymity. In reality, our tight-knit communities and modern technology make it harder than ever to disappear after a crash.

How You Can Help

The victim sustained moderate injuries and received treatment at a local hospital. He’ll recover physically, but the emotional impact of being left behind runs deeper.

The Portage County Sheriff’s Office needs your eyes and ears. If you’ve seen a vehicle matching this description—especially one with recent front-end damage—don’t hesitate to call.

Contact Detective Sgt. Blake Porter at 715-346-1494 or the main sheriff’s line at 715-346-1400. Even small details can break a case wide open.

Think about your own morning commute or your neighbors’ vehicles. Check local parking lots, side streets, and rural driveways. Someone in our community knows something.

Moving Forward Safely

This incident reminds us that helping out comes with risks we shouldn’t have to face. But it also highlights the importance of staying alert on rural roads, especially during low-light hours.

If you need to clear debris from the roadway, pull as far off as safely possible. Turn on your hazard lights. Better yet, call non-emergency dispatch and let professionals handle it when feasible.

For now, a Good Samaritan is recovering, and somewhere in our region, a driver is hoping nobody noticed their damaged sedan. In the Northwoods, we notice. We remember. And we take care of our own by holding accountable those who don’t.

Walk past the Edward U. Demmer Memorial Library in Three Lakes on a crisp morning, and you’ll spot something remarkable: the village’s oldest home, wrapped in fresh siding and gleaming with deep-red window trim. The Johnson House, built back in 1882 when the Northwoods was still wild logging territory, is getting a second chance at life.

Since fall 2024, the Three Lakes Historical Society has been racing to save this piece of living history. The $81,000 restoration project isn’t just about slapping on new paint—it’s about preserving the oldest residential building in Three Lakes for another 140 years.

“When it was starting to look like it was on its last legs, we knew we had to act,” says Susan Panian, director of the Three Lakes Historical Society and Museum. “This house is the jewel of our museum buildings.”

Why a 142-Year-Old House Matters to the Northwoods

The Johnson House predates Three Lakes’ official incorporation. When it was built, loggers were still carving communities out of virgin pine forests, and birch bark served as insulation between wall timbers.

That’s right—when volunteers stripped away layers during foundation work, they found original timbers wrapped in birch bark, a pioneer building technique that kept families warm through brutal Northwoods winters.

The house sat on the edge of Huron Street for over a century until the village acquired it in 1985. They moved it back from the road and leased it to the newly formed Historical Society, kicking off decades of gradual restoration work.

Now it’s part of a seven-building museum complex that tells the story of Three Lakes from Native American times through the logging boom, the Great Depression, and World War II.

Community Chips In to Save Local Heritage

Here’s what makes this project special: it’s funded entirely by the community. No massive government grants or out-of-state foundations—just donations from residents, local organizations, and visitors who understand what this house represents.

The Three Lakes Historical Society spread the $81,000 cost over three years to make it manageable. They’ve partnered with the village and secured a preservation grant from the Nokomis chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution.

“We really wanted it to be a legacy project, so that in the future other people involved in the Historical Society won’t have this same issue in four years, five years, six years down the road.”

The restoration is happening in phases, and it’s ahead of schedule. Here’s what’s been completed so far:

• Complete foundation rebuild with new sill plates and floor joists
• Front facade restoration including the iconic bay window
• East wall facing the library with new windows and LP Smart Siding
• West side siding, doors, and second-floor stairway repairs
• Fresh screens and deep-red accent paint on all completed sections

The back and north sides are what’s left. If weather cooperates, the whole project should wrap up by late summer 2026.

Smart Choices for Northwoods Weather

Originally, the Johnson House had traditional wood siding. But the Historical Society made a practical call: LP Smart Siding that mimics the original look while standing up to the region’s harsh climate.

Anyone who’s spent a winter up here knows what buildings endure. Heavy snow loads, ice dams, humidity from 28 interconnected lakes, and temperature swings that’ll crack inferior materials in a season or two.

The new siding is engineered to handle it all without constant maintenance. It’s the kind of forward-thinking choice that honors the past while being realistic about the future.

More Than Nostalgia: Young Families Discover History

Panian lights up when she talks about watching young families tour the Johnson House. Kids who’ve never seen a wood-burning stove or hand-pump well get wide-eyed at how their great-great-grandparents lived.

“They’re awed by what life was like in those times,” she says. And that’s the point—connecting current generations to the grit and ingenuity of early Northwoods settlers.

The museum offers free admission year-round, with personal tours available by appointment during winter months when the main season winds down. It’s a genuine community resource in a region where population hovers around 2,300 but swells with tourists every summer.

A Model for Preserving Northwoods Heritage

What’s happening in Three Lakes mirrors a broader trend across the Northwoods. Small historical societies are finding creative ways to preserve buildings that tell our regional story, even without massive budgets.

The Johnson House restoration shows what’s possible when a community decides something matters. Heritage tourism generates real economic impact—statewide, it brings in about $1.8 billion annually, supporting jobs in hospitality, construction, and the arts.

For Three Lakes, the restored Johnson House will complement summer festivals, winter snowmobile trails, and the fishing that draws visitors to those 28 interconnected lakes. It’s another reason for families to stop, explore, and maybe stay an extra night.

If you want to help finish the project, the Historical Society accepts donations online through their website. Every dollar goes directly toward materials and skilled labor.

The Johnson House has stood for 142 years, through logging booms and busts, world wars, and countless Northwoods winters. Thanks to this restoration, it’ll be greeting visitors—and reminding us where we came from—for at least another century and a half.