When Hartis P. Hamlin regained consciousness after being blown free of his World War II bomber that had exploded, he probably thought he was experiencing a miracle when his parachute finally deployed. However, the German pilot of an ME-109 fighter plane had him in his sights.
Hamlin played dead by dropping his chin onto his chest, but barely raised one eyelid. The fighter pilot veered away at the last moment and “gave Ham a respectful salute,” according to the Hamlin Family History.
While deployed with the 8th Air Force in the 93rd Bomb Group of the 409th Bomb Squadron in the Army Air Corps, Hamlin was on his eighth mission aboard the B-17 to bomb a ball-bearing plant in Germany’s Ruhr Valley. After spending time as a prisoner of war (POW), Hamlin and his wife, Betty, eventually landed in Dalton where they led the Cherokee Boys Estate into better times.
Hamlin, who died in 2000 and was eulogized for impacting hundreds of lives, said he “never got discouraged” as a POW.
“I have a positive attitude about most everything because I feel there’s a purpose for everything … when I was in prison (in German-held Austria), after a certain point I never expected to get out alive,” the family history states. “I accepted that as being for a purpose, (although) I didn’t know what the purpose was.”
Before being transferred to the stalag in Austria, prisoners of war were interrogated and threatened with execution if they didn’t share information about their units and plans. One time, Hamlin and several other prisoners were lined up as if they would face a firing squad. They stood for a long time, and occasionally there would be a threat they would be shot if they didn’t talk, with German soldiers even firing a machine gun they were facing, but not directly at them. Hamlin called it “mental torture.”
Although Hamlin never mentioned the details, the family history states that documentation revealed from the “Headquarters War Crimes Investigating Team” released years later tells of cases of diphtheria and mumps reaching epidemic levels in that particular stalag. As well, there were rampant skin diseases — yet few deaths and no war crimes were reported.
As Russian troops approached near the end of the war, the prisoners were marched west toward American lines, and a lenient German officer allowed them to be repatriated a few at a time. Years later, Hamlin married Betty Pierce in 1953 after they met in Chattanooga. Following their honeymoon, he served in Japan for 11 months without his new bride, then they were back together for the move to Kelley Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas. Betty used her nurse training to land a job in a hospital obstetrical unit and helped deliver many babies. While stationed in Hawaii, Hamlin earned his college degree.
When Hamlin knew he would be deployed to Vietnam, he moved Betty and their three daughters — Liz, Cathy and Teri — to Dalton. Vietnam was an unpopular war, and Betty Hamlin recalled getting some anonymous phone calls when people learned where her husband was deployed.
“They would say that we were warmongers,” recalled Betty, who passed away in 2007.
At age 4, Teri began wearing a toy gun and holster around the house to “protect” the family during her father’s deployment, especially since there had been a burglary attempt at their property. Hamlin decided to retire from the Air Force in 1967 when he returned from Vietnam. Soon, he received a call from Dalton that would change the lives of his family — and countless others.
At Cherokee Boys Estate
After being offered the director’s job at Cherokee Boys Estate by board member Dr. Charlie Wade, Ham and Betty Hamlin weren’t sure it should be their next move.
“Initially they had asked me to go to Dalton and I’d said no, I wouldn’t take my girls to a delinquent boys home, but it turned out different from what I thought,” Betty Hamlin said in the family history. “I was really against it at first, but we prayed about it and visited the place.”
It was during their initial tour of the grounds that Betty Hamlin’s heart softened and the couple became convinced they were “desperately needed” since many of the 27 boys had been neglected in their prior home lives. Also, they had obvious physical ailments and were getting neither doctor nor dental care, much less psychological workups, according to the family history. Although “Mrs. Hamlin” was a registered nurse, she was not employed by the estate. However, her medical expertise was needed continually — as well as her maternal nurturing.
“I made it through World War II and the Vietnam War, but this was my greatest challenge,” said the man who would come to be known as “H.P.” and “Ham” Hamlin.
One of their first acts was getting a flagpole and flag donated by the sheriff, and teaching the boys how to post the colors and say the Pledge of Allegiance. Still, the first year was very trying. The boys all attended Pleasant Grove Methodist with their crew-cut haircuts.
“Can you imagine 26 burr-cuts in a row?” Betty said of their seating during church.
Eventually, the home came under a new arrangement and was renamed Georgia Sheriffs’ Cherokee Estate – dropping the “Boys” moniker since H.P. Hamlin knew there were needy girls in the community. Today, the estate is a girls-only facility, yet he had become a fundraiser for the facility before then.
Terry Hammontree was one of the numerous boys affected by the presence of H.P. and Betty Hamlin. Two remembrances stood out to Hammontree, whose twin brother Jerry and younger brother Sammy were also among the young residents.
“We had around 20 boys and we all had to work,” he said. “But when the flag was raised or lowered, we had to stop working and honor the flag, just like they do in the military. He taught me to honor our flag.”
In the area of discipline, Hammontree said he had to come around.
“(H.P.) would take the clothes out of our drawers and toss them on the beds,” he recalled. “Then he taught us to fold them the military way. But that didn’t work out too well — we bucked him on that! I didn’t like him at first, but grew to love him and Mrs. Hamlin. He was a great impact on my life and I looked up to him, and kept up with him until he died.
“We went on trips and they made it fun. He believed in discipline, and would sit you down and talk to you. They were not my mother and father, but were close enough to be. H.P. was a super guy, it was a privilege to know them both. I was a pallbearer at both their funerals.”
‘Teachable moments’
Oldest daughter Liz Dial said her relationship with her father was “a series of teachable moments, a journey of learning.”
“Whether I succeeded or failed, his love, his teaching, was sure and steady,” she said. “He was a servant-leader. He expected us to be daughters who exemplified love, respect, truth, integrity and service to others. Dad’s life was truly committed to God, country and family. No doubt, his military service, with its many sacrifices and lessons, influenced his walk. He believed to make a difference we must be different … and we must be willing to serve.”
Middle daughter Cathy Jackson said if she could only describe her father in one word it would be “love.”
“He saw the light in dark corners and helped it grow,” she said of his spiritual vision. “He was able to see hidden potential and possibilities for beauty where others did not. His presence made each of us feel we were valuable and loved beyond measure. He was a true gift for a little girl who was unsure of herself, and his guidance is everpresent in my heart to this day.”
Teri Hamlin “always aspired to be just like my father.”
“He was my hero,” she said. “He nudged me forward into competence, creating opportunities for me to feel a sense of certainty and mastery each time we conquered something new together. Because my father had faith in me, I had faith in me, too. Today, I still hear my father’s voice within me; he is what I tap into when I must make a difficult decision.”
Each daughter also saw their father make a tremendous impact on young lives — and the Dalton community — through Cherokee Estate.
“Dad saw a need for a good daddy in an often fatherless culture,” Liz pointed out. “He stepped up. We will never know the impact on our community and state from his investment in our children.”
Cathy noted her father “treated (the boys) as he did his own children.”
“He listened to their stories, came to know each of them individually and helped guide them with both love and discipline,” she said, “just as he did for his girls. Many of those boys came to love him as a father. He worked to make their lives better, (and) worked diligently to create conditions for each child to have opportunities for success and more importantly to feel valued and cared about. Evidence of the love and respect others had for him brought tears to my eyes at his funeral when I saw people from all walks of life come to honor a man of great integrity.”
Teri believes her father’s dedication “is still rippling today in countless people.”
“For the boys and eventually the girls, he provided a safe and stable environment among people they could trust, and gave them a baseline for understanding what safety and stability feels like — an advantage maybe they had not had before,” she said. “He modeled to us — and the children at the estate and in the community — the importance of having empathy for others, the need to push back against hate and intolerance, and that all people should be treated the same.
“He operated on the principles of hope and hard work, choosing to overlook the bad in favor of the good, believing that most of us share common goals, and that progress can be made and measured, however incrementally, over time. He drew people toward him. It surfaced as a kind of ease, an ease from within. It made him noticeable and approachable, visible in all the right ways that gained him respect from the local community, the Georgia Sheriffs’ Association and state government.”