The plane sent to take author Arlene Orloske's sister, Viola, to the hospital crashed after the pilot got lost on his emergency flight, landing in a town outside of New Ulm, Minnesota.
The winter of 1935-36 went down in history as one of the coldest and snowiest ever in southwest Minnesota. Whenever I think about that winter, my mind goes back to one very tense February night.
The road past our house was blocked by huge snowdrifts and not open to any kind of traffic. Being only 6 years old, I rather enjoyed the “snow mountains” that I could climb on or make caves in. That’s what I was doing that afternoon when my mother called me into the house long before I was ready to leave my snow caves. But there was something in her voice that told me not to question her.
In the house, I was told my 15-year-old sister, Viola, was very ill. I listened as Mom, Dad and other members of the family discussed how to get her to a doctor. The nearest hospital was 50 miles away, and we were snowed in!
Airlift Only Option
At least the old crank telephone worked. But a call to a doctor in New Ulm only made matters worse—the doctor diagnosed my sister’s condition as acute appendicitis and said she needed immediate attention.
Our only chance was to call the airport in Minneapolis and have them send a plane to pick up Viola and take her to the hospital in New Ulm. Dad made the call while my brother gathered corncobs, wood and even partitions ripped from our barn to start a bonfire to guide the pilot to a landing in the pasture.
Dad directed the pilot to our farm from the nearest small town of Sanborn, about 9 miles north. But Dad didn’t know that no lights were on in the town that cold, snowy night.
Unable to find the town, the pilot got lost and tried to land near Sanborn. One of his wings caught a telephone pole, and the plane crashed. Miraculously, the pilot escaped injury.
Author Arlene Orloske sent in the postcard above, showing the heavy snow during the winter her sister got ill.
Horses to the Rescue
By then, Viola was gravely sick. What would we do? In desperation, Dad and Mom bundled up my sister, hitched the horses to the sled and headed for Sanborn, where a car would be waiting. From there a snowplow would try to open the road to New Ulm.
It wouldn’t be easy. Dad knew our team couldn’t make it all the way to town because of the deep snow. Once again, we were lucky our phone was working. Calls were made to two farms along the way, and our neighbors readily agreed to let Dad use their horses.
By the time our makeshift ambulance arrived at the first farm, a fresh team was waiting. A few miles farther on was another. With that neighborly help, the sled made it safely to Sanborn.
From there, carefully following a snowplow, the car reached the New Ulm hospital late that night—apparently without a moment to spare. The doctor took one look at Viola and told my parents, “We must operate at once. The outcome will be in God’s hands.”
My “worst winter ever” story has a happy ending, though. Viola survived that operation and has lived a long life—thanks to the efforts of so many warm and caring people on a frigid and frightening February night so many years ago.
By Arlene Orloske
Jeffers, Minnesota
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Thank God for good neighbors. A medical emergency in a blizzard ot really bad snowstorm is still to this day a frightening proposition. Only we don’t necessarily have horses to help.
I was born in Ohio the Winter of 1935 and always heard about the blizzard the year I was born. Thanks for confirming that there was indeed one.