By Tom Hintgen

Otter Tail County Correspondent

The late Otter Tail County World War II veteran Myron Broschat, best remembered as the foremost military historian in west central Minnesota, lived his life eager for knowledge and was intellectually curious.

Broschat was wounded in battle during World War II and worked as manager of electric transmission at Fergus Falls-based Otter Tail Power Company. This North Dakota native, who was 91 when he died in 2016, was part of “the greatest generation.”

He authored three books and wrote many newspaper and magazine articles on military history. He shared his research through the monthly “Broschat Report” for Otter Tail Power employees and was very active with the Otter Tail County Historical Society. Topics included history, science and technology.

“I met Myron in 1983 shortly after starting work at Otter Tail Power Company,” said Kim Pederson. “He was a highly respected electrical engineer who managed a team of engineers. What intrigued me most was his stellar reputation as a historian and writer.”

Kim, who later in her career became market planning manager, said that after first meeting Broschat she came to know the depth of his character and his unrelenting spirit to always do the right thing.

“It all seemed to come easy for him,” she said. “Our friendship spanned 33 years. I was privileged to speak at his retirement and blessed when he spoke at mine.”

They had lunch together nearly every Friday over the years, oftentimes in the Otter Tail Power lunchroom. “Myron took me under his wing early on, recognizing that I needed all the help I could get in science and technology. He improved my math and algebra skills.”

They ventured into physics, studying everything from thermodynamics to cosmology.

“But what I loved most were his stories,” Kim said. “My favorite was when he came home from World War II, traveling down a gravel road to his parents’ farm near Cathy, North Dakota, northwest of Jamestown.”

Broschat was wounded in World War II when a missile landed near his foxhole, leaving one hand severely damaged. There was visible shrapnel under his skin that he wore on his arms and hands throughout his life. 

“His parents knew he had been wounded and had spent several months in a hospital. Myron worried about what his mother would think when she saw him,” Kim said. “He never finished the story without shedding tears.”

Broschat could recite most of the Declaration of Independence and the Gettysburg Address from memory. “He was a poet and a pianist,” Kim noted, “even though one hand had missing fingers.”

He took up running when he was 65 and jogged by Adams Park on the south side of Fergus Falls, on his way to work. “Myron told me it was hard at first, getting his long arms and legs to work together. This caused more than a few cars to slow down to watch and wonder.”

Broschat’s favorite pastime was cloud watching. Neighbors and passersby would stop and ask, “Mr. Broschat, are you all right?” They were alarmed by the sight of this tall, silver-haired man lying prone in his backyard. He knew his wife, Dolores, didn’t like it, so he’d sneak it in when she wasn’t home.

Kim and others remember Myron Broschat as a quiet man. His sergeant in the Army called him Dakota and scolded him for “being so skimpy with words,” suggesting he talk more or people would think, “you are stupid.” 

Kim recalls Myron thinking that was an odd comment, believing it was better to keep his mouth shut and appear stupid than open it and remove all doubt. Kim said Myron ways always puzzled by people who talked a lot, believing you learn more from listening than talking. 

When he was a kid, he dreamed of being a famous Hollywood star, a major league baseball player or a soloist with a big dance band.

“A grateful country, a fortunate community and a girl’s best friend are glad he didn’t,” said Kim in closing.