Iris Herse, an independent living resident at Lakeside, carries with her a century of American history. She’s lived through the bombing of Pearl Harbor, the fight for civil rights, the fall of the Berlin Wall, the events of September 11, 2001, and so much more.
At 100 years old, she has not only watched America evolve, but also played an active role in shaping it. Iris is one of the few surviving “Rosie the Riveters”, the more than six million women who stepped into the workforce during World War II to build planes, ships, and munitions. Many of these women moved from clerical and domestic jobs into demanding, heavy-industrial roles after most able-bodied men were called to military service. Together, they became the face of a movement, and a symbol of resilience captured in the now-iconic phrase: “We Can Do It!”
Throughout the weekend, the spirit of “We Can Do It!” was everywhere: from conversations and ceremonies to the shared pride of a generation that stepped up when the country needed them most.
One of the convention’s most memorable moments was the unveiling of a new Rosie the Riveter statue at The National World War II Museum, honoring the enduring impact of women who transformed the American workforce during wartime. The museum is also actively collecting the personal stories of Rosies, including Iris’, as part of a growing effort to create a lasting exhibit that ensures their voices and experiences are never forgotten.
During the convention, Iris and her fellow Rosies were honored as representatives of the millions of women who powered the U.S. wartime workforce. Together, they received the American Spirit Award, a medal from The National World War II Museum Foundation and one of the highest honors the institution bestows. Each medal, engraved with its recipient’s name, reflects a lifetime of courage, sacrifice, and service.
For Iris, the trip was more than a celebration. It was a homecoming to a moment in history she lived through with grit, humility, and a deep sense of duty.
Iris Nadine Munter Herse was born in 1926 and raised in a small town in northeast Nebraska. Life was simple, quiet, and rooted in family and faith. But on December 8, 1941, the day after Axis forces attacked the U.S. Naval Base at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, everything changed.
“Uncle Sam wanted everybody,” she said. Iris was just 17. Her brothers, male friends, and other loved ones soon enlisted. Her older sister, Avis, married her boyfriend just two weeks before he was shipped out. Communications about the war were limited.
“We were from a very small town. There was no television, and very little communication,” Iris said.
News traveled slowly, and families often learned of wartime events long after they happened. Iris didn’t know until much later that her brother‑in‑law was one of the Army parachuters who fought in the Battle of the Bulge, one of the most brutal battles of the war.
Her own brothers were serving too: one in the Army, one an aviation cadet. Her future husband, Dick, was training in the Naval Air Corps. Iris watched her parents say goodbye to their sons, not knowing if they would return.
“It was sad for people, the mothers and the little ones, I can’t imagine,” she said.
Patriotism wasn’t an idea. It was a responsibility that was heartfully embraced.
By 1944, the war had pulled nearly every able‑bodied man into service. Iris and Avis helped their father with the fall harvest. The sisters then made a decision that would impact the rest of their lives. They traveled 110 miles to the Nebraska Ordnance Plant near Mead, Nebraska, where the U.S. Army was producing bombs, boosters, and shells. There, they became production operators manufacturing boosters.
The work was dangerous. Before entering the production floor, the women had to remove every piece of metal from their bodies, including jewelry and hairpins, put on work uniforms and shoes, and follow strict safety protocols. At the end of each shift, they had to take decontamination showers to remove the gunpowder that clung to them.
“Our hair had an orange-y glare to it,” Iris remembered, caused by TNT dust.
Avis worked nearby, running a forklift to move bomb components from one area to another. The sisters lived in women‑only dormitories with hundreds of other workers. They were bused to the plant, the food hall, and back again. Gas rationing meant that only a few people who lived nearby had transportation by car.
“We were only off the base to go into Wahoo (Nebraska) on Saturday night,” Iris said. “We could do some shopping and get the things we needed.”
At the ordnance plant, there were times the emotional toll became heavy.
“We could work together and cry together,” Iris said. Some women received news that their friends or loved ones had been killed. Yet they kept going. “Everybody was really patriotic. Everybody really loved America.”
Iris noted that they didn’t fully understand the scale of what they were building. But they knew why they were there: to bring their brothers, husbands, and friends home.
“I don’t think any of us understood what we were working on,” she said. “It was wartime. We did what we had to.”
More than 80 years later, Iris found herself recognized for that service in a way she never expected: she was invited to the National Rosie the Riveter Convention, held at the National World War Two Museum in New Orleans. The Gary Sinise Foundation Soaring Valor program provided for Iris’ flights and hotel accommodations, while the American Rosie the Riveter Association and private donors covered the meals. Iris and her daughter, Cindi, stayed at the Higgins Hotel, named for Nebraska businessman Andrew Jackson Higgins, whose landing crafts helped the Allies win D‑Day.
“The day I left, the hallway here was lined with people,” she said. “It was so wonderful. You could feel the warmth of God.”
On the plane in Omaha, the pilot came out and gave her a hug. In New Orleans, she was met with roses, a chauffeur and a well-organized event that catered to her every need.
The convention included tours, ceremonies, and a black‑tie gala where each Rosie received a medal engraved with her name. Most meaningful of all was the Memorial Gathering honoring the Rosies who are no longer living. Iris attended in memory of her sister Avis.
“It was very meaningful for my sister,” Iris said. “We were inseparable.”
One of the most powerful moments of the convention was the Rosie-Student Exchange, where one high school student from each state interviewed a Rosie. Iris had three students, including Ayden Littlegeorge‑Cloud, the Nebraska representative from the Winnebago Tribe.
Iris was moved by the students’ curiosity. But she expressed concern that young people may not be learning about the history of the way.
“I’ve just been asking younger people if they know who Rosie the Riveter is, and many young people don’t,” she said.
National World War II Museum staff also interviewed Iris about her experiences for its archive. This ensures her legacy of service will live on for generations to learn from.
“There haven’t been Rosies since World War II,” she said. “We are one-of-a-kind.”
Her reflections are grounded in gratitude: for her family, for the safe return of loved ones, and for the chance to honor those who didn’t come home.
“Life has been good to me,” she said. “I heard a song long ago, about loving God and each other. We just have to do that, don’t we? America is wonderful.”
At Lakeside, Iris is surrounded by friends and a warm community that values connection and dignity.
“I just think it’s important that people have someone,” she said. “That socialization is important to me.”
Her story is now part of Lakeside’s story. It’s a reminder of the extraordinary lives behind the residents we serve, and the history they carry with them.