Bernie Bluestein, one of three remaining members of WWII ‘Ghost Army,’ dies at 102

For about 50 years, what Bernie Bluestein did during World War II remained classified. If you asked, he might open an old cigar box in which he kept a piece of shrapnel, his dog tags, a swastika patch and a pocket knife.

But later, even after the U.S. government lifted the veil of secrecy, the Hoffman Estates man rarely spoke about his part in one of the most audacious missions of the war — as a foot soldier in the “Ghost Army.”

“He didn’t feel like he was a hero. He didn’t brag. He was just very humble,” said his son, Keith Bluestein, 70, who lives in Buffalo Grove.

Bernie Bluestein died this week at a nursing home in Wheeling, his son said. He was 102.

And he died acknowledging, reluctantly, that his efforts were indeed heroic, likely saving thousands of lives during the war — a fact stamped indelibly into history, when Mr. Bluestein and two other surviving Ghost Army veterans traveled to Washington, D.C. in 2024 to receive the Congressional Gold Medal.

“I’m happy about all this glory, but it’s not me,” Mr. Bluestein told the Chicago Sun-Times on the eve of the Washington D.C. trip. “I grew up in a poor family. … I’m not the kind of guy who goes and blows his horn.”

Deception is as old as warfare itself. But the 23rd Headquarters Special Troops and the 3133rd Signal Company Special were unusual in that they were two mobile, multimedia units devoted entirely to the art of deception — units brought together toward the end of the war.

All sworn to secrecy, the soldiers weren’t allowed to talk about the mission with loved ones or even other soldiers.

Props included inflatable tanks, trucks and howitzers, misleading radio communications and speakers blasting the sounds of fake convoys on the move.

Their aim was to draw the Nazis’ attention away from the movements of the real Allied forces.

The Ghost Army units were pulled into about two dozen military operations.

Their last — convincing the Germans that an Allied Rhine River crossing would occur farther south than actually planned — was perhaps the most successful. The real crossing elsewhere ended up taking the Germans by surprise, likely saving thousands of lives, according to historians and military experts.

Given that their job was to draw enemy fire, casualties were relatively light: three soldiers killed in action and approximately 30 wounded by artillery fire.

That piece of shrapnel that Mr. Bluestein kept in a cigar box? A two-inch chunk that landed between his legs during a German bombing raid soon after he got to France.

“After it was all over, I said, ‘What did I get myself into?’” Mr. Bluestein said back in 2024. “Nobody explained it to us. When you’re in the army, you listen to the person above you.”

Mr. Bluestein, who was a 19-year-old art student in Cleveland when he was drafted, later moved to Chicago and worked as an industrial designer for Sunbeam, Zenith and other companies.

Rick Beyer, a Chicago author and filmmaker who has spent much of the past two decades telling the Ghost Army’s stories, led the effort to have the veterans recognized with Congressional Gold Medal.

Beyer had traveled with Mr. Bluestein to some of the World War II battle sites; he also visited Mr. Bluestein regularly during the last six months of his life.

“This is a tremendous passing in my life,” Beyer said. “These guys were such heroes … Bernie and I said ‘I love you’ many times.”

Said Mr. Bernstein’s son: “I’m proud of his service. I will make sure that his legacy and the legacy of the Ghost Army will never be forgotten.”

Survivors include a daughter, Aleyce Lacy of Braselton, Ga., and three grandchildren.

Service arrangements are pending and are expected to be held in Cleveland.