Here is a column I wrote, under the pen-name of Desiderius Erasmus an old Dutch philosopher, for a monthly Illinois newsletter on the Second Amendment. Old Desiderius’ motto was In the Land of the Blind, the One-eyed Man is King, which meant that you didn’t have to be perfect in your skillset, just better than your opponent. In Latin, the phrase is “in regione caecorum rex est luscus.” In regione caecorum rex est luscus
In the Land of the Blind, the One-eyed Man is King
By “Desiderius Erasmus,” a GSL member
My Friend Jay
Generally I hate obituaries of my friends; they remind me that I won’t see that person again. But obituaries can be really important even if they make you sad.
Jay Harvey Lavinsky was a “gun guy.” But not like you and me. He carried an M1 Garand, but sometimes was called upon to heft a much-heavier Browning Automatic Rifle. Jay didn’t mind; he was what was termed a “scrapper” – willing to fight at the drop of a hat. Born in Philadelphia, August 21, 1924, his father Irving was a second generation Russian immigrant and an antique dealer.
His mother Pauline, a Jewish immigrant from Rumania who speaks Yiddish, immigrated at age nine 1906. Pauline is terrified that the Germans will capture her Jewish son. A family friend in Philly is like an uncle to Jay – Barney Lebrowitz, who boxed under the name of “Battling Levinsky” and who once was the light heavyweight champion of the world. Jay gets as much pugilistic guidance as he can from Uncle Barney before his Army induction March 20, 1943, when he stands 5’9″ tall and weighs 158 pounds.
Jay arrived in Company B, 39th Infantry Regiment on October 16, 1944 in a truly miserable hellhole, the Hürtgen Forest on the German-Belgian border. Over the next several months, the American Army will suffer 33,000 casualties here. The 39th had the motto of AAAO (Anyplace, Anywhere, Any Time, Bar Nothing) that the soldiers stenciled on their helmets. Junior officers added their own interpretation that they could kick the ass of, “Anybody, anyplace, any time bar none.” Jay fit right in.
At the Hürtgen, Jay won a Bronze Star for valor. In early December, the battalion headed off to Merode Castle. The castle, built in 1263, had five-story towers, and surrounded by a wide moat with 7-foot-deep, cold water. There’s one entrance – a narrow bridge twelve feet wide, covered by machine gun fire. Inside the castle, the German Luftwaffe‘s 3rd Fallschirmjäger Division, a paratrooper outfit, was waiting to kill anyone coming in. But they couldn’t stop Jay and the rest of his buddies. Then it was the Battle of the Bulge, where Jay won another Bronze Star for valor.
Then came January 30, 1945. Jay’s third platoon had the mission of attacking uphill near Kalterherberg, Germany. The weather was dismal: high – 32°, low – 10°; overcast, high wind. The snow is two feet deep – sometimes more. German machine guns, nicknamed “Hitler’s Buzzsaws” by the troops, cut down platoon leader Lieutenant Louis Benoist, and he died in the snow, never to see his four-month-old son.
Israel Reese on the BAR tries to fire, but is exposed too long, and killed by a burst of fire to the head. Kenny Seaman – from Mattoon, Illinois – Deloss Bradshaw, Gordon Vickers, Albert Harms, Meyer Christal, and John Rodrigues are wounded. Machine gun bullets break John’s wrist and penetrate his chest; he’ll be hospitalized until July 1945. One bullet hits Albert in the face, another Gordon’s hand, while another causes a compound fracture of Meyer’s leg. Kenny’s arm is mauled; he’ll be in hospitals for six weeks, but then it’s back to the front. Grenade shrapnel wounds Deloss in the face.
Mac MacLean – from Peoria, Illinois – is hit in the head and captured. He’ll be liberated from Stalag VI G in April, surviving dysentery and lice, weighing 92 pounds. As the Germans have taken his boots and given him wooden shoes that provide no insulation, he’ll also have frostbitten feet.
For Private First Class Jay Lavinsky, February 28, 1945 is even worse. In the dark, the platoon advances through a village. Jay and his foxhole buddy Harry Nodell, whom Jay calls “Brooklyn,” are clearing a street, Jay cautiously leads part of the squad, supported by a bazooka team, down the left side, when he hears German floating up from a basement window, grabs a grenade, pulls the pin, and tosses it into the dark room.
On the right side of the street, Brooklyn spots a German half-track and approaches the vehicle, which machine-guns him with a lethal burst. Jay ran to his fallen comrade on the hard cobblestones, holding him in his arms, and screaming: “Listen you son of a bitch; you better not die on me!” Harry looks into Jay’s face, winks, smiles, and dies in his arms, never to see his two young daughters again.
Jay will go several days before a change of clothes is available to swap for his blood-soaked uniform – drenched with the blood of his closest friend in the world. Meanwhile, another soldier checks the basement room, and reports to Lavinsky that his grenade killed five Germans – a father, mother and their three children.
Four days later, Jay’s luck runs out, as machine gun rounds strike him in the stomach, lower back, groin, pelvis, both legs, and a foot. A medic considers giving Jay enough morphine to put him out of his misery, as he obviously is dying, but instead Jay is evacuated to a series of hospitals and survives!
After the war, Jay thought about ending his life, but he didn’t. He couldn’t forget what had happened when he threw that grenade. As he told a young family member: “If you are in combat, that stays with you for your whole life, no matter what type of person you are, or where you push it.”
I first met Jay in 2019; he remembered his friend, my father, in his squad. In 2023, Jay sustained a severe fall and concussion, and required constant care to eat, bathe, climb into a wheelchair, and bed. Seeing his need, the Veterans Administration rode to the rescue like a modern day cavalry, admitting Jay to their long-term hospital in West Palm Beach. Jay died there, age 101, surrounded by other vets, on September 4, 2025. I cried when I heard the news.