MEET A REAL, LIVE HERO IN VA'S HALLS.

Byline: DENNIS McCARTHY 

Norm Sellz stepped off the fifth-floor elevator at the VA's regional headquarters in West Los Angeles on Monday morning and ran smack dab into himself.

``Hey, that's me,'' said Sellz, staring at the image of himself on a three-dimensional video screen, describing how he was shot down on a bombing mission over Japan in April 1945, and how he spent six months in a prisoner-of-war camp.

A couple of young guys waiting for an elevator nearby do a double-take - looking at the 77-year-old Sellz, then back at the screen.

``That's the same dude, man,'' one of the guys said. ``He was a real prisoner of war.''

The young guys begin to approach Sellz to shake his hand because in L.A. you don't often get to meet the real thing. But a crowd of people beat them to Sellz just as their elevator arrives.

``Cool,'' one of the men said as the elevator doors close. ``Getting to see the real guy like that here.''

Yeah, it was. Very cool - watching groups of World War II and Korean War veterans walking the hallways of the newly remodeled VA headquarters - seeing their own photos as young GIs on the walls and in display cases, and listening to their own stories on TV monitors.

Ex-POWs, like Sellz from Encino, and all the real GIs from every branch of the service - proudly wearing their Purple Hearts and other service medals earned for serving this country during war.

Finally getting the respect they deserve in this once-cold government building where local veterans come for their benefits and help.

``The VA used to be so terrible, but so much has changed,'' Sellz told Harry Corre, a survivor of the Bataan Death March, who concurred.

Nearby, Stewart Liff listened to the men talk, and smiled. This idea of a mini-veterans museum on six public floors of the building is his baby.

It was born out of cold, hard reality. The local VA was failing its vets miserably - often treating them like bums looking for a handout.

When he became director of the Veterans Administration regional office in 1995, L.A. ranked last in customer service of all 58 regional VA headquarters across the country.

``A survey of veterans ranked us at the bottom, so something had to change,'' Liff said. ``One of the major problems was that a lot of vets were so fed up with the rude way they were being treated by our employees that they just stopped coming.''

Liff began meeting with vets like Sellz, Corre and Walt Ehlers, who was awarded the Medal of Honor for his heroic action at Normandy.

What was lacking was common courtesy and respect, the men said. It wasn't right that vets got treated like they were bums looking for a handout when they came to the VA to apply for the benefits they were entitled to.

``I needed to get our employees to begin identify with the vets, to start seeing them as heroes, not the enemy,'' Liff said.

It's been working. In the latest national vets poll, the L.A. regional office had climbed out of the cellar to the middle of the pack.

Now when VA employees come to work, and the building is open to the public, this is what people see as they walk down the hallways: kiosks with 3-D videos of local veterans sharing their wartime experiences, including POWs, Navajo Code-Talkers and Bataan Death March survivors.

Journals and logs from POWs, combat bunker displays, a field M.A.S.H. unit, and paintings using human hair as brushes done by POWs while held captive.

``I defy the public not to be moved by the heroism seen in those displays and heard on the tapes,'' said Anthony Principi, secretary of Veterans Affairs, who flew out from Washington, D.C., to take part in the dedication of the veterans museum in this once-cold federal building.

The L.A. regional office will serve as a model for what he wants to see in every VA regional office in the country, Principi said.

More common courtesy and respect for the men and women who are our heroes.

His twin brother, Eddie, would have been proud of this video he taped a few months ago, but saw for the first time Monday, Norm said after the dedication - stopping by to see his younger brother, Howard Sellz, who owns Valley Dodge.

Norm was a half-hour older than Eddie, and they did everything together growing up in Omaha, Neb. - even going off to war and becoming radar operators on B-29 bombers.

Eddie died a few years back, leaving Norm on his own, but that's the great thing about having a twin, Norm says - look in the mirror and you always see him.

``Everyone thought I died the day my plane was shot down, but Eddie knew I was still alive and in a POW camp,'' he said. ``He knew I'd make it home.''

It's all there on that 3-D video, in the display cases and hanging from the hallway walls of the VA Regional Office federal building at 11000 Wilshire Blvd, in West L.A.

All of it open to the public and available to schools and groups for reserved guided tours.

Great stories of heroism and courage from our local vets. The real thing.

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Photo:

Ex-prisoner of war Norman Sellz is one of the heroes the public can see in videos and photos in the Veterans Administration building in Westwood.

Gus Ruelas/Staff Photographer