At first glance, Nate Ericson doesn’t demand attention.
Nate stood watch through the night, one hour on, one hour off, never once needing to be woken. All the while, he carried on with a physical disadvantage he didn’t even know he had: he was born with reduced lung capacity— something he wouldn’t learn until years later.
At 102, he presents himself simply—someone who enjoys meeting people, appreciates a good cup of coffee, and believes strongly in the importance of keeping his body moving. Most days, that means walking the community at Cedarhurst of Lawrence, carefully tending to circulation in his feet, and settling into familiar routines that make life feel steady.
For decades after returning home, Nate chose not to
“If my feet are working,” he says, “it’s a good day.”
talk about the war—not even with his children. There were good things happening in his life, he explains, and he saw no reason to reopen painful chapters. Silence felt easier than remembrance.
It’s easy to miss the fact that history walks beside him.
Born in Topeka, Kansas, in 1924, Nate’s early years were marked by independence rather than comfort. He describes his childhood as lonely and recalls never being hugged growing up—an absence that shaped the quiet self-reliance he carries to this day. Bright and driven, he excelled in school and enrolled at the University of Kansas with dreams of becoming a pilot. Patriotism guided his path, and when the call came after three months of pre-engineering, he enlisted in the Army Reserve, trading college classrooms for infantry training.
That changed recently.
Now, at 102, Nate believes he may be among the last surviving soldiers who fought on the front lines of the Battle of the Bulge. The realization weighs heavily on him—not as a badge of honor, but as a responsibility. “If that battle hadn’t been won,” he says, “we would have lost the war. And I don’t know where the world would be today.”
What followed would change the course of his life—and the world.
Nate served overseas during World War II as a buck sergeant in the 103rd Infantry Division. In the winter of 1944, he found himself in Europe during one of the deadliest campaigns of the war: the Battle of the Bulge. “There was no glory in it,” Nate says. “War is hell.” ` As a non-commissioned officer, Nate was given little information about the broader strategy unfolding around him. His instructions were simple and relentless: walk, dig, stand watch. Fifty minutes of marching followed by ten minutes of digging foxholes—over and over again, day after day, for months. Snow, freezing rain, exhaustion, and fear were constant companions. Sometimes, if they reached a farmhouse or barn, they were spared digging into frozen ground. Often, they were not.
CEDARHURST SENIOR LIVING | SPRING FLOURISH 2026 13
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