His flu elixir was cognac

Elmer Lindholm was buried in straw and in a coma inside a barn in France in 1918. He was one of the American troops sent to fight in World War I. For most of a week, Lindholm would be in the grip of the influenza that was spreading across the world and killing millions of people.

The "Spanish" flu hit young people particularly hard. He was in his early 20s.

Roy Grist, an Army physician at a hospital near Boston, wrote to a colleague about what he had been seeing in soldiers during the pandemic. "These men start with what appears to be an ordinary attack of LaGrippe or Influenza, and when brought to the Hosp. they very rapidly develop the most vicious type of Pneumonia that has ever been seen. Two hours after admission they have the Mahogany spots over the cheek bones, and a few hours later you can begin to see the Cyanosis (turning blue) extending from their ears and spreading all over the face. ... It is only a matter of a few hours then until death comes. ... It is horrible."

This new form of influenza was first reported on in Spain as the war raged on. That's how it got its nickname. The flu is believed to have actually started in Kansas near a training facility for soldiers. Transport of soldiers across the country and eventually to the battlefronts in Europe is what likely led to the rapid spread of the disease.

Off to war

Lindholm trained at Camp Dodge near Des Moines, Iowa, said his son, Willard "Red" Lindholm, in a recent telephone interview. He served with the American Expeditionary Forces, 88th Division.

"They had Texans teach those guys to train horses," Red said.

Lindholm shared the story of his father's trip across the ocean to France, where the troops were going to use the horses during the war. It was the summer of 1918.

"The ships sailed in a convoy, with the middle ship of the three full of the horses," he said. "It rode lower in the water so the Germans in a U-boat (submarine) thought that it was a troopship and sank it."

Elmer said the horses Patty and Fatty were his favorites. The ship was also carrying the personal belongings of the troops. All were lost.

When the troops arrived in France, more horses had to be purchased and trained.

"The Germans shot the horses," he said. "The troops went through quite a few of them."

Elmer Lindholm drove a caisson, a two-wheeled wagon that carried ammunition. Lindholm drove the lead team. Trucks didn't come until the end of the war.

Red said radios weren't readily available to use in the war. Runners had to carry messages to other troops.

"The horses that pulled the wagons were work horses in harnesses," he said. "They also had riding horses that they rode for carrying messages. They had to travel at night."

Mustard gas was another danger to the troops.

"It stayed on the ground in low areas and crept into the trenches," he said. "It was very effective on the troops in the trenches."

The Germans also used heavy guns on the troops.

"A lot of guys were shell shocked," Red said. "Dad never got that."

Invisible enemy

But he couldn't escape the flu. He lay in the barn where he had collapsed, buried in straw and in a coma while the flu ravaged his body.

"One guy found him when he tripped over him," Lindholm said. "They used French cognac to bring him back from the flu."

Cognac is a brandy distilled in and shipped from the area surrounding the town of Cognac in west central France.

Elmer Lindholm went back to his duties in the war and served until the armistice was signed and the war ended in November of 1918.

Back at Camp Dodge, the flu hit hard with the soldiers still there. More than 10,000 troops were hospitalized and 702 of them died.

Drawn to Cloquet

Elmer grew up in Michigan. "His father worked in the bigger sawmills," Red said. "That was a big industry at the time, logging and building."

Elmer and his father moved to Cloquet to work in sawmills after the war. Elmer met Red's mother when she was a legal secretary in Duluth.

"Dad and Grandpa bought some land together and had a few cows," he said. "After Grandpa died, Dad stayed on the farm." They raised Red and his sister, Esther, on the farm.

Tree legacy

Red followed in his father's and grandfather's footsteps, only he grew trees instead of logging and sawing them. He once had a large Christmas tree farm.

"That tree farm got too big, I couldn't handle it anymore," he said.

Now Red and his wife, Lorraine, operate a smaller farm, the Northstar Tree Farm, south of Cromwell. At 86, Red still gets out and shears the trees and sells them.

"I do it for the exercise," he said. "As soon as the snow is gone, I start shearing. I can't prune the trees once the buds come on. It's quite a process."