WOE BEGINS . . .

[This is the continuation of a series of posts which began January 15, titled "Daddy and the Big War." This winter family history project is based on letters written by my dad, Vance, to his parents on the farm in Idaho, while he was in boot camp. Vance, 38 years old, is now stationed at Camp White, 13 miles north of Medford, Oregon. In this letter, written December 12, 1942, he mentions the Montgomery family. Aunt Mabel Montgomery is his mother Ina's youngest sister. Mabel's adult children are Grant (married to Ruth), Fay, and Mavis. Grant is now also stationed at Camp White, and Aunt Mabel, Fay, and Ruth, live in Jacksonville, not far from Medford. Having family nearby will hopefully afford Vance the opportunity for diversion and comfortable leaves. Continuing now with the letter of December 12:]

I got your letter yesterday and was most glad to hear from home. The postmark was the 9^th and I got it the 11^th which was very good. I have not received the package but it will probably be here tomorrow. Packages seem to be slow.

Now for my tale of woe – We have been on [a dead run] for 8 days. I have not had time to write a card before "lights out" at 9 p.m. They have been throwing classes at us twelve hours a day to get us caught up with our permanent companies and we are to be assigned next Monday, so perhaps the pressure will relax. I can really find it in my heart to be sorry for the officers for they are taking a beating along with us. Day before yesterday we hiked 8 miles under field pack and rifle, got back at 5 p.m., pitched shelter tents, ate out in the field and slept out on the very wet ground. We picked up an extra blanket and quilt when we got in from the hike so had plenty of bedding. We put our rain coats on the ground and made our beds on them. Fortunately there was no rain that night and we kept pretty warm so our colds weren't much worse. There is hardly a man who hasn't a cold, myself included. But don't worry – I feel convinced mine is on the mend but many men have been hospitalized.

You may know by now that Grant [his cousin] is here at Camp White. He's in the 362^nd Inf., so isn't so very far away but I've had no time to look for him. I beat you to the draw. I wrote Fay and Aunt Mabel right away and had a "so thrilled" letter from Fay with all plans outlined for Xmas. She said there was no bus to Jacksonville but they have a car and gas and will be only too glad to drive into Medford for me. I think I will not try to get off until Xmas for we are supposed to get 3 days a month and I'd like to have mine in a bunch and have a chance to let down a little. As you see there is no chance to come home.

I have been too busy to be really homesick but it really is tough on a lot of the married men and most of the men in my outfit are married. There are lots of funny characters in the bunch that I could write reams about but I haven't time for I want to get this mailed tonight.

It is the first evening we have had all week and we are scheduled for classes all day tomorrow, Sunday. We hear we are to be introduced to the rifle range tomorrow. We have had hours and hours on guns – tearing them down and putting them together again. However, I have been assigned to communication squad and am slated for a switchboard operator. [So much for being a cook or a baker. One wonders why they even ask.] I believe we are to start going to school Monday. I may have to learn the Morse Code also. But more of this when I know more about it.

I hope Al will be able to get home but I can shed no light on this permit to travel business. By the way, you'd better order a battery [for the radio?] from Sears immediately for I think it is your only chance. This friend of mine in Frisco works in a radio shop and she says batteries are a thing of the past – so lose no time.

I will not have time or opportunity to shop for Christmas and I am going to miss it, too. I am enclosing ten dollars and use it as you see fit. You may want some fixins for Xmas dinner or you can try to buy batteries. I must stop for I have some work to do on my bed before I can go to sleep in it. Love, Vance

CAMP WHITE, OREGON

POSTCARD -- Dec. 3 [1942]

Dear Folks,

Arrived in Medford last night. Will be stationed here at Camp White for basic training. Had a tiresome trip up from Monterey and have spent the day trying to get settled. Finally got the bunch distributed among the different companies. We are members of the famous 91^st Division and I am attached to Headquarters Co. 1^st Battalion. It is damp and cold down here and we all feel it, but I think we will be issued winter underwear soon. I dug my overcoat out this afternoon. It is a relief to know we are permanently settled for 2 or 3 months anyhow. The camp is about 10 miles out of Medford and I figure it must be pretty close to Jacksonville. [There are relatives in Jacksonville.] On second thought I believe one turns off the Jacksonville Road in Medford, but anyway I am not more than 20 miles from there so shall try to get out there when I get a week-end leave. Get on to those pens. I need letters. My address in corner of card. Love, Vance

P.S. Mail me 4 coat hangers.

[I was amused that Daddy would ask Grandma Ina to mail him "4 coat hangers." Couldn't the camp administration just send out an S.O.S. to the good citizens of Medford for the donation of coat hangers? Then I remembered how my roommate and I fought over available coat hangers when trying to get settled in Boston. They were difficult to come by. And when we "downsized," Mike (working mostly unsupervised) bundled up what he thought was a superabundance of coat hangers and got rid of them. I've worked with a shortage ever since. I buy hangers and get rid of clothes, and still I don't have enough hangers.]

POSTCARD – Dec. 4

The weather is getting colder and the army seems to be out of clothes so please locate the sweatshirt I brought home and send it along. Today is really the nuts. It has been getting colder all forenoon. We haven't had to be out in it a great deal but our time is coming. We had our second typhoid shot yesterday and a few of the fellows don't feel so good. I am getting by pretty well aside from my arm being kind of sore.

BRIGHT OLD GUY

[More from Vance's letter of Nov. 27-29, written from the Army Presidio at Monterey:]

Yesterday we had our interviews and took our aptitude tests. Suffice it to say that the tests were not too tough and I was told at my interview that I passed with a much, much better grade than average but the chap did not tell me what, nor did anyone find out their grades. The young fellow who interviewed me took plenty of time. He informed me that he had really spent too much time on me but that it was such a relief to find someone he could talk to. [Vance then explains in the vernacular of the day that many in the group are Blacks and Hispanics. Some can barely speak English. These guys were not the "first draft picks."]

[The interviewer] "suggested," as he put it, that my welding is no good to me in the army for I was not at it long enough to be considered a master welder. He told me he had interviewed more than 100 welders in the last few days. After our visit in which we covered music as well, he felt I should put in for cooks and bakers school and second choice the quartermasters corps. They were my choice also so that is the way I put it. Now I will have to wait and see. As I said, we do not expect to be here much longer so do not attempt to write me until I move on.

We had a typhoid shot and vaccination the first afternoon so we've been sleeping a little uncomfortable on the left side but the soreness is going out now. They tell me the second shot is the worst for feeling bad. On this first deal only one chap in our group got a little sick which is something of a record.

I think that is all. We came in from "retreat" – the sundown ceremony, a half hour ago and were given freedom until 11 tonight. . .

Your loving soldier son, brother and nephew, Vance

Send around. I won't write all this again.

P.S. Thought a lot of you Thanksgiving and hope you had a fine time.

HE’S IN THE ARMY NOW

[The long letter dated Nov. 27-29, 1942, written from the Army Presidio at Monterey, California, continues:]

This is my third day in the army and yesterday besides having a turkey dinner with all the pie, cake, turkey, fruit, etc., we were issued our uniforms, clothing, and barrack bags. It has been all right so far and I expect before many days we will be sent to our permanent camps for basic training. We have not had much drill yet. Everything we start to do en masse takes a long time. We marched to the barber shop three times today and have not yet been able to get a haircut.

This morning about 7:15 we went to a lecture on insurance and dependents allotments so I have got the wheels turning but that cannot be finished until I reach my camp. Yesterday they got us up at 4:30, it being our first morning in camp – some sort of gag to impress the rookies, I took it. We got our chores done and sat around almost an hour before we were marched to breakfast. This morning we got up at five and I surmise it will be 5:30 tomorrow.

Last night we went to a hall and heard the articles of war read – necessary but dull – and saw three educational shorts on army life and the evils of SEX – dull also but necessary. It added up that we were pretty much on the go from 4:30 to 9 at night. Even so we all seemed to have trouble getting to sleep. We are quartered in a comfortable barracks here at the Monterey Presidio and feel very lucky for a lot of the inductees are shunted up on the hill about a mile away in tents and they say not too good. Today has been misty and rainy so it has been rain coats every time we go out which has been mostly to the barber shop, then right back to barracks. It is pretty country down here and from what I have seen not at all densely populated. We are not allowed off the post and have had only the first night off to go to the PX (post exchange). We are to be given leave again tonight and I bet you I buy some soap. After lunch today the corporal had us sort out our civilian clothes and go thru our issued clothes to check misfits and slip-ups. I got everything except a khaki field jacket with zipper which I will be issued at my next camp – they being out of my size here. The story about the two sizes, large and small, is erroneous, I am glad to report. I got a very good fit in my uniform and shirts. You may be interested in what is issued so I'll list it:

• 2 pairs of regulation army shoes (I wear a #9C now)
• 3 pairs light cashmere wool socks
  
• 3 pairs of mercerized tan socks
• 3 handkerchiefs (we can also keep our own of which I brought about one dozen)
  
• 3 pairs white underwear (shorts and shirts)
• 2 suits of fatigue clothes which are of a green cotton gabardine and consist of pants and matching buttoned blouses
  
• 2 sun tan suits which are made of that good quality cotton drill with shirts of same cloth, one with sport collar and one for tie. These "sun tans" as they are called, are the official warm weather uniform.
• Then, of course, we got our wool uniforms, the official O.D.s, which consists of 2 pairs wool pants and one coat or "blouse," as they call it [see photos right].
  
• For head gear we were issued the regular overseas cap in both the wool and sun tan.
  
• Then there was one light tie and one black tie, leggings and toilet set.

I did not buy the plain-toed oxfords. I had thought to but will at my first opportunity. I also am going to get a sizable and durable toilet kit and writing kit. Now I know you are thinking what admirable Xmas gifts those items would make, but I have such a need for them I will not wait for Santa if I get an opportunity to pick them up. I suggest you confine your purchases for me to soap and such and a good old-fashioned pork or fruit cake for they ship well.

[So, it looks like my dad saved his official "blouse" and that I still have it. It's moth-eaten because I am not taking care of it. I'm sorry, but I think that WWII memorabilia abounds, including uniforms, and that the world is not looking to the daughters of old privates to maintain collections. Does anyone know what the green tree on the left sleeve signifies?

Note that Daddy suggests "a good old-fashioned pork or fruit cake" as a Christmas gift. So, I guess Ina was still making pork cakes in the 1940s from her mother's recipe. I posted that recipe last year and even experimented with it some before concluding that it was a waste of time and money. Better recipes exist today -- and I know a number of ways to find them. KW]

PARTY ANIMAL

[The story of my dad's foray into the army during World War II continues. Remember, it's 1942 and the United States has entered World War II. Vance (my dad) is 38 – right at the cut-off age for the draft. Because his job was not considered civil defense, he was drafted. For some reason he transferred from the South Bend, Oregon, draft board to the one out of Quincy, CA – probably because it was closer to Chester where he had been working. Instead of going to Quincy and traveling to Monterey with other draftees, his plan is to meet them at Monterey. He was apparently a "party animal" in those days, so when he figures out that he has a little time in his schedule, he decides to call the sister of a friend in San Francisco, and she and her husband meet him for sightseeing, cocktails and visiting. Already tired from stress, travel, and late night activities, he again gets to bed late, misses his wake-up call, misses the train to Salinas where he was to catch the bus to Monterey. Now we pick up his story at that point from his letter dated Nov. 27-29, 1942:]

. . . it was 8:30 when I woke up. You can imagine I was plenty worried for I was afraid I'd be AWOL if the Quincy gang beat me in. The next train out did not leave till 4 o'clock P.M., so I phoned United Airlines at 9:45 and found they had a plane leaving Mills Field at 11:00. I asked for a reservation and the girl asked if I had a priority. I said No! but that I was due in Monterey at noon for induction and perhaps that gave me an army priority. She laughed and said all the seats had been reserved but that I stood something of a last minute chance if I wanted to get out to the field for often passengers do not show up and that their bus left the ticket office at 10 o'clock. So I tore downstairs from the 7^th floor, couldn't get the elevator, paid my bill, bawled the clerk out, and took out for the ticket office which was on the next corner. Arrived to find the bus had left five minutes before, so I grabbed a cab. Mills Field is miles out of town and the cab cost me $3.50. To make a long story short two passengers did not show up and so I got a seat to Salinas and was there before noon as it is about a hundred miles from Frisco. I got to the Presidio about one o'clock only to find Quincy had not got here. In fact I met some of the Quincy guys today and they didn't get here until 1:30 Thursday. Consequently the two of us whose boards were outside Quincy were the only two who got here at the proper time and we were inducted with about forty men from Salinas which is only twenty miles from Monterey. In all my trip to the army has been plenty expensive. ["And whose fault is that?" I ask – and I expect Ina asked, too. Still, he was honest enough to tell it. It's his trip to the army and he's telling it like it is.]

WHUT TH HELL’S GOIN ON?

See if you can figure this one out. Tax season is off to a slow start so I came roaring into the driveway on my motorcycle about an hour or so early today. And what did I see? Both garage doors and the man door were open, the truck was gone, Curtis Seymour’s truck was sitting in the driveway with the lights on, motor running, locked and with two yippy dogs in the cab. Nellie was gone, some groceries were in a kitchen chair as if Kathy had just sat them down, and there was something wrapped in foil on the counter that I had found outside that morning and thrown in the garbage can. (We had figured the foil package found at the back door was something Nellie had stolen from someone’s garbage.) Obviously Kathy and Seymour had left in a big hurry I thought.

The only thing I could figure was that something bad had happened to Nellie and Seymour had happened along at that time. Maybe she had been run over. Maybe she had been poisoned and that had something to do with the foil package on the counter. Kathy would not likely have taken the truck unless there was a mangled bloodied Nellie to be hauled in the back.

First I called the Vet to see if they were there. They weren’t. Next I called Seymour’s and got no answer. Then I called work thinking Kathy may have called while I was in transit. She hadn’t. Then I headed out on foot up South Slope where Kathy usually walks Nellie thinking some accident may have occurred up there – nothing. Then I returned and further investigation revealed that the passenger door of Seymour’s truck was unlocked so I braved the yipping little dogs and climbed in and turned off the lights and engine.

Well, I was just about at the end of my rope. As I was digging around in the office to see if I could locate Seymour’s cell phone number they pulled up in the truck. Here’s how the puzzle falls together: The foil package was some bones too big for his little dogs that Seymour had dropped off for Nellie earlier that morning before we were up. He had dropped back by to make sure we got them. (Well, we had of course, but didn’t know it.) At the same time Kathy had just pulled up from grocery shopping. When Seymour went to leave he discovered his truck was locked which he blamed on the dogs. He then claimed they (that's right, the dogs) had unlocked the passenger door which I had entered. Now those dogs really know how to pull a prank! Riiiight. Kathy had taken Seymour home to get another set of keys. Seymour's truck was blocking the Magnum's garage exit so Kathy had been forced to take the truck. She hadn't taken Nellie for her walk so she just put her in the back for some kind of outing.

I can tell you it was quite a relief after all the tragic scenarios that had been running through my mind. Of course, if Kathy had known that I would have been coming home early she would have left a note. Well, it was a good laugh anyway. M/W

ABOARD “THE BEAVER”

[The photo on this post is of my dad (right) and his nephew, Stan Sanders. My dad has just visited the folks on the farm preliminary to induction into the army, and evidently Stan is traveling with him. Stan, who is 22, was crippled as a result of osteomyelitis as a youth and works in Portland. I think they are probably leaving as this photo was taken. Note how they are dressed.

The car belongs to my dad, I think, and he stops in Raymond long enough to sell it for $500 before going on to Portland where he boards a train bound for California. The details of all this aren't clear, but it was interesting that my dad carried chickens and other food from the farm to Uncle Frank Dickson (Ina's brother) and Aunt May in the Portland area. Daddy comments that they were glad to get the food.

This letter was written "aboard the Beaver," a train bound from Portland, OR, to Oakland, on Nov. 23, 1942. His ultimate destination is the Army Presidio at Monterey.]

Dear Folks,

. . . I got my reservation for a tourist sleeper and so am reclining behind drawn curtains and writing. Just came in from having dinner and I find the menu not too expensive. Paid a dollar for roast lamb, salad, and ice cream and cake.

This is a big train. In fact we have a few Pullmans from the Cascade train tacked on behind for some reason or other. I counted 8 coaches ahead of us as we rounded a bend in Portland and I'm not sure how many behind. We were at least a half hour late leaving Portland tho the train was made up there.

Stan and I had quite a pleasant trip to Portland tho it rained a lot in spots from Walla Walla in. We got to Walla Walla about 6:30, took baths and shaved and went out for food. Happened into the Copper Kettle and walked into a couple of acquaintances from Raymond, the Evanses. He is a carpenter and works for the same contractors Al is with. They asked us to meet them in the Shangri-La room of the Marcus Whitman after dinner and while we were eating they called up their niece to come down and join us. I had met Geraldine before in Raymond so we quaffed a couple sodas [Scotch and sodas?], and Geraldine regaled us with stories of her dates with servicemen and we laughed a great deal. . . Well, 'twas fun and we got to bed at midnight. I am really quite weary tonight and hope to get some sleep. Of course we are blacked out so there is no incentive to watch the windows. . . .

[Added the next morning:] I have just discovered that my ticket is to Frisco only, so I may stay over and go on to Monterey tomorrow morning. ["Oh-oh," says my mother's intuition.] I am sure I will still beat the Quincy crowd or be so close behind them it won't matter. Will end this now.

Love to all, Vance