Roma Freeman - World War II - The Homefront

--as told by Roma

    When I was a senior in High School, my father was called up to active duty and sent to San Luis Obispo. He had problems with his ears as a result of his service in the artillery in World War I.  Because of this, he was eventually given a medical discharge. He got home from being discharged the day of my graduation from high school in 1941. He got into Ogden by train in the afternoon, so we went down and picked him up
    After graduation I worked in the summer at a cannery peeling tomatoes. I was determined to go through college, so I wanted to earn some money for that. We peeled dishpans of tomatoes for 8¢ a pan.  It bothered my hands, so I had to wear rubber gloves. We’d walk about a mile and a half each day to the cannery.
   Later in the war I worked at the cannery as a timekeeper. Each day a busload of POWs was brought to the cannery to work.  They were from the POW camp in Tremonton. I had to keep track of them. Since my office was closest to the working area, I caught most of the First Aid problems. I remember that one of the POWs cut his hand one day and had to be taken to Bushnell Hospital to have it stitched. 
   One of the POWs painted a picture of me, but I couldn’t really pay him for it as money wasn’t allowed in the camp, so I could only pay him 2 packs of cigarettes.  Most of the  POWs didn’t speak English, but the guard spoke a little German I think. He usually left his gun I’m my office during the day. After the war they were all sent home.

   I was a freshman in college when the war started. We were in church on Sunday, December 7th, but as soon as church was over the news spread like wildfire!  Pearl Harbor had been attacked.  After my freshman year, I worked as a messenger at Bushnell Hospital while they were building it. Bushnell General Military Hospital was an Army World War II hospital in Brigham City, Utah from August 1942 to June 1946. It specialized in treating amputations, maxillofacial surgery, neuropsychiatric conditions, and tropical diseases. It was also one of the first hospitals to experimentally use penicillin. Bushnell was a regional facility for wounded solders from the Mountain States that provided quality medical care to patients.
   Another summer I had a job at Hill Field near Ogden.  I carpooled with several other workers, including my brother Kay who could not join the military for health reasons, and also my cousin, Wayne Freeman who was also exempt for health reasons.  The people who worked at home also helped the war effort.  My job at Hill Field involved keeping track of planes that were out of commission and finding where the parts where so they could be repaired and sent back into service.
   Rationing soon became necessary because of the amount of goods needed for the war effort.  That was a problem for my parents as they had quite a few fruit trees and depended on canning those things for food.  They had to apply for extra sugar rations during the canning season in order to be permitted to buy the required sugar.
   Gas was also rationed which meant no traveling for pleasure.  Once a friend was able to get a motorcycle, but it was in Salt Lake City, so he was given an extra ration of three or four gallons of gas so he could go get it.  Even though Logan was not that far from Brigham City, we couldn’t get enough gas to go back and forth much, so  stayed in Logan the whole time except for summer vacation when I went home to work.
   My older brother, Dean, was in ROTC at USAC.  When he graduated in the spring of 1942 he was not able to wear the traditional cap and gown.  He graduated in his military uniform and was commissioned a second lieutenant as well as a call to active duty. He also got married in September of 1942.
   Dean  received his overseas orders in 1943 and was sent to England.  We had maps of the various areas where people were stationed, so we had a rough idea of where he might be, but we couldn’t know for certain because of censorship.  He participated in Exercise Tiger. We later found out that he was part of the D-Day invasion,  landing on “Utah Beach.”  While Dean was away, his first child was born in December 1945 at Bushnell Hospital.  He didn’t see  his son until  he was almost 2 years old. At home, we couldn’t be sure just where he was, but we suspected where he was and listened to the news of the war as well as following the progress of the Allies on a map.
   At school (Utah State Agricultural College)  I started on the Smith-Hughes program which was vocational home economics to train teachers. It entailed me taking 18-20 credits per semester. It was during school that I first met a young man named Verlin Stephens. After the first 2 years of college, Verlin left for the Army.  I finished my last two years while he was gone. We had dated about 18 months before he had to leave. We got engaged on February 25, 1943.
   When Verlin left for Fort Douglas, I planned to go see him the next weekend, but he was already gone by then and didn’t know just where he was going.

   We saw very little of each other from 1943-1946.  I taught school during the 1945-6 school year at Plain City.  I was hired to teach Home Economics. I taught 7th, 8th, 9th and 10th grades.  There were 3 Home Ec classes as well as a 7th grade Physical Education class. On the noon hours I coached an adagio dance team.
   I went home one weekend after the end of the war and happened to read in the newspaper that the troop ship Olmstead was scheduled to dock that day in Oakland. I knew Verlin had ridden it from Guam to Saipan, so assumed that he would be on it, so I went back home early, assuming that he would call.  I was home only a short time before I got my call.
   Once Verlin was home, we planned to get married in August 1946,  but housing was really scarce just after the war.  The only decent place we could find was available in June.  If we wanted it, we would have to pay two months rent just to hold it, so we decided to go ahead and get married in June.

November 22, 1963--a memory from 56 years ago

 When I left home for Arlington High School on Friday, November 22, 1963, it didn’t seem an extraordinary day.  School went normally until afternoon when I was in Reading Lab.  This was a required nine-week course for Freshmen, to help us increase our reading speed.  I didn’t mind the class, because we got to spend most of our time reading library books of our choice in special reading carrels where a light shined on the lines of the book at increasingly rapid speeds to force us to speed up.
   I was deeply engrossed in a good book when the school PA system came on.  This was unusual since most announcements were made during homeroom before third period.  After a short burst of static, the principal usually came on to give us whatever announcement he had, but this time, nothing came on except screaming and sounds of hysteria.  We couldn’t figure out what was going on.  The teacher was as confused as we were.  Several minutes later, an intelligible voice at last rose above the uproar and said, “President Kennedy has been shot”.
   In disbelief, we listened hopefully for word that his injuries were being successfully treated.  Schoolwork was forgotten for the day as we sat in stunned silence.  Later it was confirmed that he was dead. 
   On the day of his funeral, school was cancelled so we could stay home and watch the events of the day on television.  What a solemn occasion it seemed.  In many ways, he was such an idealistic president, and when he died so tragically and suddenly, it seemed like part of the American dream died with him….or, perhaps it was just the rose-colored glasses of my childhood being cast aside.

Verlin Clark Stephens - WW II

Verlin Clark Stephens - WW II

Pearl Harbor

   World War II began in the fall of 1939.  I was then 16 years old and felt that it would be over soon enough for me to avoid it because of my age.  By the time the US entered the conflict, I was 18 years old and of prime age for military duty.  The day of the attack on Pearl Harbor, I was washing dishes in the Utah State Agricultural College (USAC) cafeteria and kept hearing bits and pieces of news all day.
   The next summer jobs were plentiful and I got a job at the Quartermaster depot in Ogden. After a month there I got a chance to get a better job as a lookout for the Forest Service. However, the only way I could quit the QM job was with a doctor’s certificate which I got easily because I had lost my voice due to an allergy or infection.
   The year 1942-43 was a very important one for me.  When I returned to school it appeared evident that being drafted very soon was a very real possibility.  However, we were told that we could join the reserves and remain in school until we were really needed or graduated, so I signed up for the Naval Reserve in November.  In December, doctors from the various services came to give physical exams.  Shortly thereafter I was informed that I had failed the Navy exam due to a heart murmur.
   In April they decided the time had come to need the reserves, so they were all called to active duty—except me.  I got notice to go to Bushnell Army Hospital (in Brigham City) for another physical.  I guess I passed because I soon received a notice to prepare for a call by the Army.  I rushed around finishing school early so I would be ready  When school finished I still expected to be called up anytime and was very reluctant to take a job, so I stayed at school doing odds and ends.

Reporting for duty

   Finally I was ordered to active duty on July 16, 1943, at Fort Douglas. I was there for a few days. I didn’t know where I was going, but I thought it would be Fort Old, California, since that is where the other reserves had gone. Three days later we arrived at North Camp Hood, Texas.  It was 116ºF and the camp consisted of black tar paper covered buildings.  The buildings were all new. Our training field had corn stalks in it from the previous years’ crop. The water supply had just been condemned, so what water we used came from lister bags hanging in the sun and containing a generous portion of iodide.  When we were finally assigned to a company for training, our new commander made a bit hit by providing our lister bag with a chunk of ice.
 
Training

   I won’t go into details of basic training since it didn’t markedly effect subsequent events. Everyone in the unit was scheduled to go back to school under the Army Specialized Training Program (ASTP).  Somewhere along the line we were again given more tests and then an interview. I was told that I had qualified for the Junior year of engineering and could take my choice of electrical, civil or mechanical.  Also we were asked three states where we would want to go to school. I asked for Utah, Idaho or Colorado, and since I had no previous engineering, it was agreed (I thought) that I would be assigned to a one term review course.  When the time came to leave, we were all going to be separated and sent to the schools we had requested. We went almost straight north out of Texas, through Arkansas and the eastern edge of Kansas, and continued north finally into Canada, then southeast to our destination—New York City, which was far from the states I selected.  We were all assigned to Pratt Institute and lived in a public housing project near the Brooklyn Navy Yard.  My roommate was a young fellow named Burt Schultz and he was from New York City.  At the first opportunity we went to see his mother. She lived in a large apartment on Central Park West. I soon learned how the other half lived.  Burt’s father was vice president and general manager of Raytheon Corp., and in my eyes, they were rich. During World War II, Raytheon employees contributed to the war effort. They supplied 80 percent of the magnetron tubes used in U.S. and British radars and developed parts for the crucial proximity fuse in antiaircraft shells, among other equipment. Raytheon met urgent production needs for magnetron tubes used by Allied forces for radar defense, and produced the Sea Going (SG) microwave surface search radar that went on U.S. Navy ships. The SG provided vital situational awareness in the major battles in the Pacific and helped eliminate the submarine menace in the Battle of the Atlantic.
   The other good friend I made there was Harold Rasmussen. Harold was from Westfield, New Jersey. After he took me to his home for a weekend, I almost became a member of his family.  For the next two years I spent my weekends there whenever possible. They, too, were fairly wealthy by my standards, since Mrs. Rasmussen’s father had invented the disposable paper cup, and a holder for them. He had then established a company to make them. It had gradually expanded to make napkins, place mats, wall plaques, etc.
   As I mentioned, being assigned to advanced engineering turned out to be important for me. After one term, the ASTP program was closed and all those in the first two years and the review course were sent to the 86th Infantry Division on maneuvers in Louisiana.  The 86th was sent to Europe  and into combat on December 24th, 1944 during the Battle of the Bulge. A very large portion were killed in the first few hours. My friend, Harold Rasmussen, was wounded. He recovered and returned to combat for a few hours, only to be shot again—through the forearm. He lost most of the use of his wrist and was discharged but eventually recovered completely.

Signal Corps

   Those of us in electrical engineering were assigned to the Signal Corps. We went off to Camp Wood, New Jersey,  and were eventually assigned to school at Fort Monmouth which was only a few miles from Camp Wood. I requested to be in teletype repair school. This was about a three month course, but one could proceed faster. I think I finished school in about half the prescribed time and then became an instructor until the time came to return to Camp Wood.  Soon I was transferred to a signal company which was preparing to go overseas. As more or less a final fling, we were given a two week furlough and so I went home to Utah for the first time in 16 months.
   I had received a seven day furlough in New York, but it wasn’t long enough to go home, since the only practical means of travel was by train, and that took three days each way at best. I spent that time sightseeing and Christmas shopping. It was a very lonesome period, knowing that theoretically at least, I could have gone home.
   When I returned from furlough, I learned that plans had changed, and of five signal companies, only two were to remain.  Surprisingly, all of the teletype repairmen were left, so there were about 21 in our company when there was only need for seven.  All excess people  were transferred to the infantry.  To fill time, I was serving as the company clerk. We were stationed at Camp Edison, which was another small station a few miles south of Fort Monmouth.
   Meanwhile I continued to go to Westfield, New Jersey, for every available weekend, and the Rasmussen’s always insisted that I bring a friend.  There were several of us who enjoyed their love and friendship.
   As mail clerk it was my official duty to pick up orders for our unit each day. One day the orders were to send about 180 men to such and such infantry unit, (there were about 220 in our company at the time), so I felt certain that I would go, but surprisingly they sent nearly everyone but the teletype repairmen.
   Sometime later we all received orders to go to Philadelphia, to a place called Hog Island, and then to a course in radio teletype repair at the Brookline Country Club just west of Philadelphia.  We were returned to Hog Island.  Again we were promised an overseas assignment and sent home on furlough. When we returned, we were told that the plans had changed and most of the group was sent to an unknown destination. There were four remaining, and we were sent back to Camp Wood “to keep their teletypes in repair”.  Mostly we played pool.  We were housed with a company of Japanese interpreters.  One of the fellows decided he knew a way to find out our eventual destination by going to camp headquarters and asking to change his will.  He came back with the information that we were all going to Camp Beale, California, which was a replacement depot for the Pacific area.  Two days later, he left for Camp Beale..alone.  A few days later we were sent to Vint Hill Farms, Virginia, and rejoined most of the people who had left earlier. We found that the past year had been spent in getting top secret clearances and we were to be trained as code machine repairmen.
   After the school. we received furlough home in preparation to go overseas. By then the war in Europe was over, and while we were waiting for assignment, Japan surrendered. Small groups were sent out to various areas to work, and as each group left, they bragged that they would be released long before those who remained. One group was sent to the Far East. About two or three weeks later, we went to the airport at Agana, Guam, and welcomed them to the Pacific area.  They were sent to Seattle and put on a boat.  We left about a week later and had gone to San Francisco by train, then to Hawaii for four days, then to Guam by plane. 

Guam

   We left Hamilton Field about 10 PM on the night of September 2, 1945, which was the day the Japanese war was officially ended. It was my first plane ride in a ‘big’ plane called a C47. It was a new plane going to pick up wounded, so it had no seats. When it became light the next morning, one of the fellows became concerned that one of the wings seemed to be flapping. We assured him that it was normal (of course we really didn’t know any more than he did). We landed at Hickam Field without difficulty. The next day we rode by the airfield and saw that they had removed that particular wing from the plane. We decided that we had been very fortunate.  From Hawaii we flew to Johnson Island, then to Kwajalein and finally to Guam.
   Since the war was over, we never did do any code machine work. We did transfer a large amount of equipment, which had been dropped in a field during the battles to retake Guam, to a warehouse. I would guess most of it is still there.

Going Home

   Early in 1946 we left Guam on a transport ship, the Olmstead, and transferred to Saipan to begin the process of returning to civilian life. The camp on Saipan was on the opposite side of the island from the port. It took about four hours to go through the required processing. Then we waited and waited. There were frequent rumors of ships arriving to get us. Finally after about four days we loaded back into trucks and recrossed the island to find the Olmstead waiting for us. It was a Kaiser built ship and not really luxury. There were 2500 men on board. We slept in the cargo holds on canvas stretched on metal frames. As I remember, each bunk was about 24 inches wide and perhaps six feet long with about 15-18 inches to the bunk above. There were big garbage cans for those who became seasick. Not surprisingly, we spent as much time as possible on deck.
  Before I left for the Army, I had only tasted olives a few times and didn’t like them, but I acquired a real liking for them in the service. When we were getting ready to leave Guam, two of us ate a whole can to keep from throwing them away. A few hours later we were bouncing up and down with very heavy seas.  The propellers were coming clear out of the water when we pitched forward. Then they announced that dinner was ready. Most of the fellows I was with had long since lost their appetite, but I was hungry. By the time I got there, the line into the galley was long. As we moved up slowly, we passed a fellow who was so sick that he had vomited all over the deck and was sitting in it.  I lost some of my hunger but went on and finally reached the galley.  Food was served in trays and one stood at a table about waist high to eat.  As the ship rolled, some food spilled, and a few people added to it so that the deck was slippery and we slid back and forth as we tried to eat. I soon found what it was like to be seasick. I lost my acquired taste for olives and have never regained it.
   After two weeks at sea, we landed at Oakland, California, and in less than a day we were on our way to Utah on a troop train. Thank goodness that was my only experience on a troop train, a box car with bunks similar to the ship.  There was no air conditioning in those days and we had sailed across the Pacific in tropical weather. The train wasn’t really heated and we finally arrived in Salt Lake City in a snowstorm with the temperature near zero. After a day or so of processing, during which they tried to get us to reenlist, we were released from the Army.
   When I went into the Army, the first month or so I got $21 per month plus board and room and clothing. After that, congress raised the pay for a private to $50 per month, and when I was promoted to Private First Class, I got a raise to $55 a month.  Eventually I became a T/5 and got $66 per month for the rest of my time in the Army. 
   In those days there were no credit cards and very few checks. We were always paid in cash and there were no deductions for Social Security or income taxes. In the Army there was an officer assigned as pay officer. We had to step in front of him, salute, and he would count out our pay. We could have an allotment sent home.

Elverda Thiesfeld Lincoln - WWII - Women Also Served

Elverda Thiesfeld Lincoln - WWII - Women Also Served

Pearl Harbor

    I was eighteen years old when Pearl Harbor was bombed. Most people, including myself, didn’t know where Pearl Harbor was located. I was in the living room of our home, listening to the radio, when I heard the news that day…December 7, 1941. I was shocked and angry.  The following day, many young men, from all over the country, stormed the recruiting offices to join the military services.
    It wasn’t too long after Pearl Harbor that Pa and I left our Minnesota home to go to Washington where he had a job as a carpenter.  Ma and the rest of the family followed not long afterward.
   When the war started in 1941 until 1943, life in our family was changed in many ways. Rationing was one of the changes that took place then.  Gas, sugar, fats and some canned goods all were rationed. The war effort heightened everyone’s resourcefulness. Since there were so many children in our family we didn’t feel like rationing was a big deal. In fact, sometimes we had more of these items during the war than we did before or after. Each member of our family had their own ration book.
   Many men and women joined the services. Evidence of this was the existence of a plain blue small flag hung in windows of families who had sent a daughter or son off to war. A blue star was positioned on this flag for each member that had responded to their patriotic call.  Some were replaced with gold stars, representing a father or son who had been killed.
   Price controls affected everyone’s lives, especially in grocery stores. This was down to prevent price gouging. There was an expiration date on rationing stamps to prevent hoarding. Most stores willingly complied.
   Because of rationing, households were forced to use margarine due to the shortage of butter. It was white and looked like lard. Inside this bag was a large yellow pill that had to be broken and then kneaded into the white. When thoroughly mixed, it looked like butter, but was not as tasty. The reason for this chore was the farmer’s rebelled if the factory-made margarine made it look like butter and they feared the sales of real butter would hurt them financially. In a few years, the farmers quit complaining and now margarine is colored yellow and looks like real butter.
   I also remember hearing and reading about labor shortages resulting from the military’s demand for men, that left women to become not only riveters, but welders, mechanics, crane operators, truck drivers, gas station attendants, and bus drivers. At the same time, women continued to cook, clean, shop and care for their families.
   Children who could afford it used their allowances to buy defense stamps and war bonds. They also participated in scrap drives to collect aluminum foil, metal and worn out tires. These items were recycled into the war effort.
   I remember gas rationing and heard that this was done to keep people home. Fuel at gas pumps was under severe curtailment. For some people this restriction was difficult, especially young people wanting to drive around on Saturday nights for entertainment. The government imposed a nationwide speed limit of 35 miles an hour. Some people turned to the black market to obtain scarce items which usually meant paying higher prices.
   Due to the scarcity of some food products, “Victory Gardens” were planted in almost everyone’s back yard.  This relieved some of the stress of going without. It was a very successful program.
   On September 19, 1943, at the age of 20, I enlisted in the US Navy as a WAVE.  The initials of WAVES stood for Women Accepted for Voluntary Emergency Service.  Each time I walked past the post office in Yakima, Washington, where I lived, a large sign (about three feet by four feet) had an Uncle Sam pictured on it with his finger pointed at me saying I WANT YOU.  The sign was positioned on a sandwich board almost on the sidewalk.  There was no doubt it could be seen by everyone.  The more I walked around this sign the more I took the message to heart.
   At this time I was working a few days here and a few days there at various jobs and couldn’t stand any of them:  jobs like working in a fruit cannery cutting pears in half, a few days untangling twisted piles of clothes in a laundry, applying for a job as a waitress and never showing up for duty, and mostly being unemployed.

Off to New York



   One day I entered the Navy Recruiting Office and was informed the Navy was looking for girls with secretarial training which I had in high school.  I signed up, passed the physical with flying colors, and before I knew it, was on a troop train to Seattle to join nine other enlistees traveling to Hunter College in the Bronx, New York City.  Years later this same place became the headquarters of the United Nations.
   It took five days to cross the USA on a troop train.  The train was crowded with GIs on the way to the East Coast to report to embarkation points to serve in the European theater.  We girls didn’t have a seat assigned to us.  We spent all our time standing in the hallway, looking out the window or trying to get comfortable in any way we could inside the lavatory area.  This area was large enough that three of us took turns lying on the floor so we could get some sleep. None of us took advantage of any GI’s offer of a seat.  They were a rowdy, flirty bunch and we were scared of them.
   A Navy bus met us at the train station. We were a sleepy, exhausted, bedraggled lot.  An hour’s ride through New York City brought us to our dormitories, which were converted apartment complexes located outside the main gate of the college.
   Our day began at 4:30 in the morning and ended at 9:30 at night.  Boot camp was hard work, but I didn’t mind.  We learned how to march in formation, had classes, took tests to find out what categories we were qualified for, and various other duties as assigned.  Boot camp lasted four weeks.  When I was issued my uniform I felt great. I now was on equal par with all the other girls.  Pay was $50 a month.  My confidence soared.
   Weather in September in New York was hot and humid.  Girls passed out while marching in formation. We just walked over them and continued on. We had ten minutes to eat our meals and be back in formation.
   One day my platoon was last to be served lunch.  Ordinarily food was plentiful, but for some reason the main course ran out. In order to solve this dilemma, trays of meat left over from the night before were reheated and served. About an hour later, recruits were passing out one after another and some were suffering from severe stomach pains. We were herded back to our quarters to recuperate from our ailments. We were sick all night, but the next morning we were back on duty.  we were diagnosed with ptomaine poisoning.
   The afternoon of the last Saturday of boot camp, we were given permission to go downtown.  We were an excited bunch of women, and spent an enjoyable time, visiting Rockefeller Center, Times Square, Empire State Building, St. Patricks Cathedral and the Little Church Around the Corner. We admired the Statue of Liberty from afar, trying not to get lost, and worrying about getting back on time.  Of course, we all had to load up on souvenirs and postcards.
   During that last week we were all herded into an auditorium to attend a musical performance put on by Frank Sinatra. He was so skinny that we couldn’t tell the difference between him and the microphone.  Hours before this program we were given instructions to keep the noise level low-key. In fact, we were not allowed to remove our white gloves, no standing, no hollering, whistling or any other kind of loud exclamation.  This performance was one of the first ones put on by Frank.  Afterward, he disappeared through a back door, was escorted into a limousine by bodyguards, and we quietly returned to our barracks.  Life Magazine published this event, so we knew it was a big deal.

   When boot camp was over (one month later), I was sent to Cedar Falls, Iowa, for a three month crash course in advanced secretarial work which I really enjoyed. I took an aptitude test and passed it with high marks. My three years of typing and shorthand in high school finally paid off.  I met many girls from all parts of the United States, but never became close with any of them.  I was too shy.
   During this schooling, I was anxious to know where I would be serving the remainder of my enlistment. Students could request duty anywhere in the US.  If there was a vacancy they were sent there.  I requested the West Coast.

Back to the West Coast

   My first duty station was downtown Seattle where I was assigned to an aircraft control center. I climbed ladders to put colored pins on a huge wall map so the officers would know the exact location of ships and planes at sea. The radioman of each plane called our office at least every hour giving their exact location. The planes were on constant alert for possible enemy activity.
   Next door to our office was the Russian Embassy. The lone officer on duty came into our office once or twice a week just to look around. He looked impressive in his white uniform. He never stayed long and never spoke to anyone. We used to think he was just lonesome. We never knew if he spoke English or if he gathered any information while strolling through our office. We felt very uncomfortable whenever he was around.
    Less than a year later, I was transferred to Tongue Point Naval Air Station, Astoria, Oregon. By this time the war in the Pacific was going full force. As ships came into port in Astoria, the Navy communications manuals were brought to our office for updating. New coding was inserted, deletions and corrections were made, and old outdated books were replaced by new books.  I clearly remember coding a great number of radio signals in manuals for the Battle of Iwo Jima and the possible invasion of the Aleutian Islands in Alaska. The significance of this coding was not realized until after the Battle of Iwo Jima. Up to this time I was nonchalantly performing my assigned duties, but it really hit me hard when I found out the importance of what I was doing.  I also typed court martial papers for sailors who were not being good boys. No typing errors were allowed on those papers, and if I made a typing error, I had to start over.
   Sailors and ensign officers from the communications  sections of their ships were detailed to our office to help bring coding data up to date, while their ships were in port for repairs or supplies.  The WAVES called these young ensigns 90-day-blunders. They were younger than us and had no experience. The men from these ships were awestruck that women were in the Navy doing work that was vital. Most of the men did not resent the WAVES, but they could not get used to the fact the Navy had women replacing men that were so badly needed at sea. We enjoyed the sailors company and had some good times in spite of the fact it was wartime.
   Looking out the windows of our office, we saw shipload after shipload of lumber leaving the harbor bound for Russia when our own country was so badly in need of lumber for building homes.
   It was common knowledge that unidentified submarines were lurking in the waters off the coast of Oregon. After a few days the submarines disappeared.  It was said every inch of the United States shoreline was mapped and photographed by the Japanese.
   My next duty station was in Portland, Oregon. Our office was a converted scow moored in the Willamette River. Conventional office space in downtown buildings was impossible to rent. Every time a small ship or barge went up or down the river near our scow, we could hear the water in the bilges sloshing to and fro.  This time I worked with teletypes. We sent messages, mostly to shore stations along the coast and to Marine Headquarters in San Francisco.
   The Marine Corps had their recruiting office within walking distance of our office. They used the Navy’s teletype to send messages to their main office in San Francisco. Their runners for this job came to our office every morning to deliver and receive any messages. One of those runners was Bob Lincoln.
   I thoroughly enjoyed my 34 months in the Navy. Now whenever I think about those days, I realize this was a time of great transition in my life.  I was away from home and on my own.  I gained self esteem and confidence and found out what the working world was all about.
   I made many friends. Two of them, Opal from Pennsylvania and Glee from Wisconsin remained friends and kept in contact for many years.
   When the war finally ended, the GIs were welcomed home and they started a new life.  We at home had done everything asked of us to help our men on the fighting front.

USMC - Robert Lincoln

USMC - as told by Robert Lincoln

Making a Marine

    I went to Seattle for my physical examination to join the Marines on the 24th of September 1940.  That night I boarded the train for San Diego, California.  It took two days for the train to get there.  My years of regimentation had come.  It began the second I stepped off the train.  A Marine gunnery sergeant took charge of us.  We boarded a bus and were taken to the Recruit Depot, and was turned over to what was called a Drill Instructor (DI).
   Things weren’t too bad the first day because it was quite late.  The next morning at 0400, boot camp had started.  Time went slow but we were drilled and run so much we really were too tired to pay much attention to time.  In eleven weeks we were ready to go to the rifle range at La Jolla, California.  I thought I knew where my muscles were, but after snapping in on the different shooting positions, I found I had many more aching muscles.  The time at the rifle range lasted one week.  I came back a marksman.  It was much less than I had expected, because record day, I blew it.
   It was at the rifle range that I found out how rough a DI could get.  We lived in two-man tents in rows and a duck walk (row of boards used like a sidewalk) in between rows. One evening about nineteen hundred (7 PM), Sergeant Ballard fell us all out in front of our tents at attention.  He walked down the duck walk in between the two rows of tents and asked each of us if we had washed our skivvies, which were our shorts and “T” shirts.  Everyone said, “Yes,” except my bunkie  (the other one who occupied the tent) and I.  Sgt. Ballard sneered and said, “Why not?”
   There was only one true answer, each one of us said, “Because we are wearing one pair, and we did wash the other two pairs.”
   He said, “Strip off all your clothes, get your bucket and kiyi brush for scrubbing clothes, fill the bucket with cold water and report to my tent.”  What could we do?  That’s exactly what we done.
   Now out at the rifle range in November it can get chilly, especially when you get used to the hot weather.  We done as ordered and came up to his tent and knocked on the tent pole.  The Sarg said, “Who is there?”  I said,  “Private Lincoln reporting as ordered sir.”  My bunkie said the same thing.  The sergeant said, “Come in.”  He was sitting there and talking to another DI.  They continued to talk and ignored us still standing at attention with our buckets and kiyi brushes in our hands.
   In a situation like that a person feels pretty insignificant and unnecessary to say the least.
   Finally Sgt. Ballard said to the other DI, “isn’t that the crumbiest SOB you ever seen?”  The other sergeant agreed that we were.  Then Sgt. Ballard took us about one hundred yards from the tents in the dark and poured about half of the water over our heads, then took sand and threw all over us, then poured the rest of the water over us and said, “Now take your brushes and scrub yourselves, then go to the bathhouse and take a cold shower.
   We didn’t waste any time complying with his henhouse order.  I’m sure he waited until after dark because no other DI or authority could see what he was doing.  You can rest assured that both of us washed all three pairs of skivvies and wore one of them wet until we graduated from boot camp.  We were the only one that told the truth and the only ones who got punished.
   We returned to the Marine Corps base on a Saturday morning.  Sunday we were marched to church at the base chapel, the first and only time we were made to go to church.  The chaplain’s  sermon was on the honorable profession of a soldier.
   The next Monday we were placed on one of the regiments of the 2nd Brigade.  I went to Headquarters and Service Company, 1st Battalion, 8th Marines.  I was in an 81 millimeter mortar squad.  It was hard work in the field but I liked it.  In January of 1941 I again went to the rifle range at La Jolla.  Again I only made marksman.
   About February 1941 the 2nd Marines were reactivated which made the 2nd Brigade the 2nd Division.  I was put in E Company, 2nd Battalion, 2nd Marines as a rifleman.  Later I became squad leader of a sixty millimeter mortar squad because I had previous training with 81 millimeter mortars.  This position I held until September 1942.

Pearl Harbor and Midway

   I was on liberty in San Bernardino, California, when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, Territory of Hawaii.  A California state policeman got myself and my friend a free ride on a Greyhound bus back to San Diego.  We were stationed at Camp Elliott at the time. A few days later I was advanced to corporal.  I had been acting in that capacity for about four months.
   It was a few days thereafter that the company I was in was changed to the 22nd Provisional Company and we boarded ship on January 9, 1942, on our way overseas somewhere.  We were under sealed orders until after we passed Hawaii.  Then we found out we were headed to Midway Island.
   The ship we were on from San Diego to Pearl Harbor was the President Harrison.  We had no escort.  One of the crew of the ship was a friend of mine who went to high school with me.  We were one day out of Pearl Harbor, when the aircraft carrier Yorktown came out from Pearl Harbor to escort us in.  It got torpedoed and had to return.  We got a torpedo fired at us.  It crossed our wake about 30 feet astern.  Late that evening we tied up at Pearl Harbor (Jan. 17, 1942), disembarked and stayed that night at the Marine Barracks, Pearl Harbor.  We were under blackout conditions.  It was quite a trick finding your way around in the dark in a place you had never been before.
   We got settled down and some went over to Hickam Field and drank the Army’s beer.  The debris at Hickam Field had not been cleaned up from the bombing yet.  It was a mess.
   Next morning we boarded the Marine transport, William Ward Burroughs, and headed out to sea again.  This is when we found out we were going to Midway Island.  I didn’t know where it was at that time.
   I was on aircraft watch on the afterdeck.  I was posted at 0800.  I wasn’t relieved until midnight.  I wouldn’t have been relieved then if I hadn’t been caught asleep by the Officer of the Deck.  I don’t remember going to sleep, but I sure remember waking up!  The Officer of the Deck kicked me in the ribs as I was laying on the deck.  I was doing duty on a .50 caliber machine gun. I was threatened  with a General Court Martial and being shot because we were at war.  After they found out how long I had been on duty, he changed his mind and woke my company commander up and read him off.  Nevertheless, I was scared.
   On January 22, 1942, we arrived and tied up at the pier on Sand Island which is the largest atoll of Midway.  We were a small detachment of Marines that was sent there to support the 6th defense battalion that was to defend Midway Island.  We had no sooner tied up than a Jap sub surfaced.  It had been following us.  A Marine dive bomber was in the air at the time on patrol and spotted it.  The sub was sunk by the dive bomber.  Midway was to be my home until September 17, 1942.
   It was a very dreary place to be.  In February it rains a lot and the landscape was sand and scaveola brush that was about four feet high.  There was a few ironwood trees on Frigate Point that was planted by the Pan American Airways in the 1930s.  Sand Island which I was stationed on, was one mile long and three-quarters wide and shaped like a pork chop.  It was easy to see it as something to eat because all we got was two meals a day.

The Clowns of Midway

   In early February the gooney birds started to come in, at first a few each day, then by the hundreds.  Black ones and white and black ones.  The black gooney are black-footed albatross and the white and black ones are layman albatross.  Both varieties are very graceful while in the air, but when they land, they come down by a belly landing, especially when they first come off the ocean.  They had been flying for so long that their legs were weak, but they never really got over the habit of crash landing.  They were very tame and a person could walk up to them and pick them up, but you were sure to get bitten.  They had a long and strong bill and knew how to use it.
   We got a kick out of playing tricks and pestering them.  One time a Marine painted the rising sun on one of them and the stars and stripes on another.  The one with the rising sun disappeared and was never seen again.  The other one stayed around  and the paint finally wore off.
   The gooney would lay one egg.  When it hatched the chick would stay in the nest which was only an indentation in the sand.  They looked like a goose gosling with pin feathers all over their bodies.  They would stand straight and looked like a little sentinel.  It was great fun to put a lighted match under their bellies and watch the pin feathers burn off like a flash fire.  It didn’t seem to hurt them.  They fire would not burn their heads so they would look like a little buzzard standing in their nest.  If the skipper would have seen us, it would have been a court martial; for even then, Midway was a bird sanctuary. 
   Our latrine consisted of a slit trench, one foot wide and two feet deep, and as long as was wanted, and also a two inch pipe driven in the sand with a funnel in the top.  One of the men in my platoon was using the slit trench when a very inquisitive gooney bird wanted to investigate those buns hanging over the slit trench.  They gooney came up behind and with his strong bill took a chunk out.  Needless to say, Chick Williams couldn’t sit down properly for quite some time.
   There was thousands of birds on Midway of many different species, gooney birds being only one of them.  There were Sooty Terns, Moaning Birds, Kiwis that had been imported from New Zealand, Bosun Birds, Frigate Hawks, and many others.  Moaning Birds burrowed in the sand, and when the tide was a little too high, many of them would drown.
   The first night I was on Midway, I thought someone was dying.  We all kept hearing this moaning.  We found out later that it was the Moaning Birds.  In the evening the Sooty Terns  would line up but the hundreds.  We waited until after dark and then ran through them to watch them fly up from the ground and make such a racket.  It seems childish now, but it was great fun then.  After all, there was nothing else to do.
   The gooney birds were a problem on the runway.  Planes would take off down the runway and so would a gooney.  The gooney birds would get in the propeller.  There would be blood and feathers all over the plane.  It was decided that in case of an emergency, that wouldn’t be so good.
    Authorities decided to have the infantry troops organize into killing parties.  We loaded into three PT boats and was taken over to Eastern Island where the airstrip was, all armed with our machetes.  It was so easy to cut their heads off.  They couldn’t fly away from us and then had a long neck.  All one had to do was give a hard swing.  One part of a day was enough because most of the men got sick to their stomachs.  We had been trained to kill someone that could shoot back, but not helpless birds.

Life on Midway

   We made all our own underwater obstacles, barbed wire entanglements, and anti-personnel mines.  We would get terrible headaches from making land mines because of the nitroglycerin.  We had to break dynamite open and pack the powder in a 4” by 4” box with an electric cap and battery.  It was a touchy job.  Maybe the reason we had to do it was so we would take our headaches out on the enemy.
   In June 1942, the Japanese attacked Midway Island.  The main attack force was destroyed before they could complete their plans.  The US Navy aircraft (we didn’t know they were in the area) succeeded in sinking the Japanese aircraft carriers.  We were heavily bombed and strafed.  One oil tank was destroyed by fire as was the hospital by an incendiary bomb.  I suppose it was set afire by the enemy to light up the beach for their infantry landing, but it didn’t occur because their ships were sunk.  When the battle was over in three days, we had no Marine dive bombers left, just one fighter (land based) but we had beat the Japs.  There was a few casualties among the ground troops.  This battle turned out to be the decisive battle of the Pacific with Japan.
   We buried all our dead at sea.  They were put in a canvas bag with some scrap iron.  We took the bodies about ten miles out to sea on a barge and slid them over the side into the water.
   Every ship that came to Midway was covered with khaki uniforms, so it seemed, because of the rumors we were being relieved of duty there.  When the ship docked, we found out there was no relief troops aboard.
    It finally happened.  We were relieved on September 17, 1942.  The Marines who relieved us had all new 37mm and and 90mm guns to replace our .50 caliber and 3” guns which were originally from the cruiser Chicago.
   The Japs never came back again.  We were underway within two hours of our boarding the ship.  I can’t remember the name of the ship.  It was an uneventful trip to Pearl Harbor.  We arrived at Mary’s Point at 10:19 AM on September 22, 1942.  I missed the ‘anchor pool” by one minute.  The anchor pool was an event where you guessed the exact minute the ship would dock at a port.
   
     Bob also shared some further stories with his son, Roger.  He says they were warned a couple of days in advance that the Japanese were coming.  That was a scary prospect because the number of defenders on the two islands was probably between 800-1000.  They had the might of the Japanese Navy and troops coming at them. If the Battle of Midway (mostly a sea battle) had not been won, the defenders of Midway could very likely have been wiped out.
   Bob was stationed near the water tower.  It was being used as an observation post.  He was supposed to be going up to the top, but it was struck and fell over before he could climb it.  He was under it when it fell over.  He was not injured when it fell.  In the original 1976 movie, this event is shown, but not in the 2019 movie.  After watching the 1976 version he commented, “Hollywood got it right.”
   The Japanese air attack on the island was low level.  As one Japanese pilot strafed them, he was so low they could see his face.  As he passed over them, he gave them the finger.  They watched him pass over and make a long loop to make a second pass.  When he came around for the second time, every rifle, automatic rifle, pistol, tommy gun and machine gun within range was waiting for him.  His plane was shredded on the second pass and crashed into the ocean.
   Sometime after the battle, the commanding officer of the Marines personally gave everyone in his command a silver dollar.  That was over $400, a rather large sum in 1942.  How he got that many silver dollars is a mystery.  Sadly, Bob lost his some months later in a dice game.  One of his regrets in life is that he let that happen instead of keeping it.
   
Two letters included with Robert’s papers:

THE SECRETARY OF THE NAVY
          WASHINGTON

The Secretary of the Navy takes pleasure in commending the SIXTH DEFENSE BATTALION, FLEET MARINE FORCE, REINFORCED, for service as follows:
    “For outstanding heroism in support of military operations prior to and during the Battle of Midway, June 1942.  Assuming a tremendous operational and service load in preparing defenses of Midway against anticipated Japanese attack, the officers and men of the SIXTH Defense Battalion: carried on intensive night battle training, completed and installed underwater obstacles, unloaded and distributed supplies, emplaced guns and constructed facilities for stowing ammunition and for protecting personnel.  Alert and ready for combat when enemy planes came in to launch high and dive-bombing attacks and low-level strafing attacks on June 4, they promptly opened and maintained fire against the hostile targets, promptly opened and maintained fire against the hostile targets, downing 10 planes during the furious 17-minute action which resulted in the destruction of the Marine galley and mess-hall, equipment, supplies and communications facilities.  Working as an effective team for long periods without relief, this Battalion cleared the debris from the bomb-wrecked galley, reestablished disrupted communications, and serviced planes, thereby contributing greatly to the success of operations conducted from this base.  The high standards of courage and service maintained by the  SIXTH Defense Battalion reflect the highest credit upon the United States Naval Service”

All personnel attached to and serving with the SIXTH Defense Battalion, Fleet Marine Force, Reinforced, consisting of the SIXTH Defense Battalion, 22nd and 23rd Provisional Marine Companies and “C” and “D” Companies of the Second Raider Battalion are authorized to wear the NAVY UNIT COMMENDATION RIBBON.
 -/S/ JOHN L. SULLIVAN
Secretary of the Navy

HEADQUARTERS
SIXTH DEFENSE BATTALION
FLEET MARINE FORCE
30 May, 1942
BATTALION INSTRUCTION MEMORANDUM
NUMBER 3—1942
IMPENDING ATTACK BY JAPANESE FORCES
Information available indicates that the Japanese plan an all-out-attack on Midway with a view to its capture.  This attack may start any hour now.
Our job is to hold Midway.  We are to have assistance of other forces to help us do our job. Our aviation forces have been strongly reenforced.  Daily long range patrols are made to locate hostile forces and track them to within striking distance of our air force.  One of our most important jobs, therefore, is to protect our aircraft on the ground and in the water against hostile attack.  As long as we keep our aircraft flying they can work on hostile carriers, transports and other surface craft.  We must not let our aircraft be attacked while on the ground, taking off or being serviced.  We must also be careful not to fire on our own planes.  Keep cool, calm and collected; make your bullets count.
Once the air attack starts, it is likely that the Japs will try to make it a succession of bombing and strafing attacks in order that our planes will have difficulty refueling.  It is our job to make these attacks as costly as possible by accurate fire and destruction of hostile planes.  At night we will probably be bombarded.  Our torpedo boats will help attack hostile ships.
After the Japs figure that our air force is out and that defensive installations have been sufficiently weakened, they will attempt a landing.
This is the first time the Japs have attempted to take an American fortified place so far from their bases.  This time they are coming to us and we have the opportunity of a lifetime to reflect glory on our Corps and ourselves by not only accomplishing our mission but also by the damage and destruction we can inflict on the enemy. The better we do our job, the sooner the war will be over.
Be alert and on your toes. Don’t unnecessarily expose yourself or fire prematurely.  Keep cool. There will be a lot of banging and booming but don’t let this confuse you. In a battle the odds may seem to be against you for a time and things may appear to be going badly for our side, but always remember that the enemy is in a worse fix than you are. A torpedo, bomb or shellfire may sink a ship of boat but our islands will still be here when it’s all over. It is the tenaciousness on the part of the individual soldier and the will to win, coupled with cool and deliberate action and shooting that wins battles.  Don’t fire land mines prematurely.  Much of the effect of land mines depends on the firer keeping his head and firing the right string at the right time.  We must also be alert against parachute troops and troops endeavoring to infiltrate by boat.
Our President, our Country, our Corps and the Commander-in-Chief of the Pacific Fleet are depending on us and we will not let them down.

H.D. SHANNON
Colonel, U.S. Marine Corps,
Commanding

Highways and Byways

Highways and Byways

“Are we there yet?”
“He’s touching me!”
“My stomach hurts…I think I’m going to throw up!”
“I’m bored.”

    Yes, we were off once again on our biennial, 1500 mile road trip to visit our Utah relatives.  We liked visiting them.  We just didn’t like riding in the car for three days to get there.
   Mom spent days organizing everything for the trip.  The house had to be left clean and the car packed perfectly.  Back then our car was a station wagon.  Over the years we had several types of station wagons.  The first had two bench seats and an open cargo area in the back.  In one half of the cargo area, Mom made a soft bed where we could play or nap as we rode along.  It was easily done then as cars didn’t have seat belts and kids didn’t have to sit in special car seats.  It’s a wonder we survived!  That is not to say car seats didn’t exist.  My brother Mark sat in one.  It had two hooks that fit over the back seat and had a little steering wheel to play with and a tiny horn that beeped.  It’s main functions were entertainment and allowing the young child to sit high enough to see out the window. Safety was not an issue.  We even had a car bed with similar hooks to fit onto the back seat.  It was about the size of a small bassinet and was a perfect place for a baby to sleep as we rode along.  Another station wagon had three seats with a place behind the third seat for a little bed.
   We always had to pack food along with us.  I don’t believe I realized that it was possible to eat at restaurants along the way until I was nearly an adult.  Eating out would have meant wasted time and wasted money.  Dad had only two weeks of vacation time, so we wanted to get to our destination as quickly as possible.  Often we picked him up at work at his quitting time on Friday afternoon on our way out of town.  Our supper, eaten in the car as we drove along, was usually cold, fried chicken.
   We could hardly wait to get to Illinois.  First, it meant we were in a different state and thus closer to our destination.  Second, it meant we were closer to our favorite road.  Interstates were not built yet, so we made our way across country on roads of varying quality.  One road in Illinois must have been poorly constructed.  Years later, it reminded me of roads in Alaska which suffered from frost heaves.  Whatever the cause, the road was rather like riding on a roller coaster with numerous dips for the unwary driver.  We called it the whoop-de-doo road because every time we went over one of those dips, we all shouted ‘whoop-de-doo’ as the car became airborne at the top of each one.
   Once we were past that road, we were ready to quit for the night, but Mom and Dad wanted to press on just a little further. When it got dark, it was time to find a motel for the night.  I don’t recall any motel chains with their uniform rooms and services.  Each little privately owned motel had its own idiosyncrasies.  Mom wanted a clean motel.  Dad wanted a cheap motel.  We didn’t care as long as we weren’t in the car anymore. When we spotted a likely place, we’d wait in the car while Dad went into the motel office.  If an acceptable price was offered, we’d see Dad go off with the motel owner or manager to view the room to make sure it seemed clean and that the toilet flushed properly.  (I’m guessing Dad or Mom had had a bad experience with a toilet somewhere, so they always checked that.)  In one town where all the motels were filled, we stayed in the last room to be found.  Perhaps some of their motel phobias were not groundless as all the sheets and towels in the motel had been mended many times.  During the night, the bed fell down.
  Mom and Dad woke us up about 6 AM because the day was a’wasting.  Motels didn’t come with breakfast back then, so Mom would get milk and hard boiled eggs out of the cooler.  If we didn’t eat fast, we had to eat our breakfast in the car.  Cereal with milk was pretty sloppy in the car, so Mom gave us each one our favorite breakfasts, Gerbers Baby Oatmeal in paper cups.  It was gluey enough to stick to the spoon.  As a special treat, before the trip started, she let each of us go to the store with her to choose our favorite baby food dessert.  I always chose the plums with tapioca.  Mark always got chocolate pudding.  There were no such things as pudding cups back then.
  Usually Mom drove because she got car sick when she wasn’t driving, but when it was lunch time, she sat in the back seat, opened the cooler and started making our lunch.  Sometimes she made sandwiches ahead of time and sometimes she made them fresh on top of the cooler.  I don’t recall her buying lunch meat.  If she wanted roast beef sandwiches, she cooked the roast at home, then sliced it nice and thin before she packed it into the cooler.  Strangely I don’t remember my favorite sandwich, but Mom loved roast beef, sharp cheese and dill pickles.
   We didn’t have individual water bottles.  Maybe they didn’t exist yet.  We had to eat all our lunch and then we could have a drink of water from the gallon jug we always took along.
   The idea of wasting valuable cooler space with ice was unthinkable for Mom.  She bought large cans of apple juice or apricot nectar and froze them before the trip.  They kept everything else in the cooler nice and cold.  She’d take one can of frozen juice out each morning to thaw so that by afternoon it was a welcome treat.  We were famous for spilling things, so we weren’t allowed to have cups for our juice.  Instead, Mom used a punch can opener to make six holes in the top of the can and inserted a straw into each hole…one for each of us.  Then we passed the can around and took turns drinking our juice until the can was empty.  Of course, that also meant we had to watch our siblings closely to make sure they weren’t drinking longer than we thought they should.
   Mom packed some sort of little treat or toy for each of us to look forward to every afternoon.  I was always happiest when I got a book because that lasted the longest.  When it was too dark to read or when we were bored, we sang.  Favorites were “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad” and “I’ve Got Six-pence”.  Dad always sang along enthusiastically even though he was tone deaf.  We especially loved to hear one that Dad ‘sang’ to us.  I have never heard it anywhere else and I don’t know the tune, because Dad was the only one who knew the song, and as I said…he was tone deaf.  For all I know it may have been a song my Grandpa Stephens made up.  We loved it because it told a story. It went:
 
Two old maids they lived together
They were not to blame
Just because the old girls
Couldn’t change their names.

To their room their came a burglar
Not to steal, but hide.
He had a cold, he coughed out loud
And one old maid, she cried.

“Watch out, there’s a man in the room.
He’s come to get me I presume.
Don’t give me the worst,
For I saw him first
I’ll have him I will or my poor heart will burst”

He thought he had met with his doom.
Each gave him a kiss.
He said, What is this?
I must have got in the wrong room.

   Driving through Nebraska was horrible.  One of the highlights of driving was coming to a new state line.  Nebraska was so long that it took the whole day just to get through it.  Cars didn’t come with air conditioning then, so summer driving was hot and miserable.  A couple of times we borrowed a little window air conditioner that was attached to the outside of the car window by pinching it in the window when it was rolled up.  One time it was 110ºF.  It was so hot that no one wanted to eat.  Finally we stopped at a gas station and filled the cooler with ice.  We spent the rest of that day just sucking on ice chips.  We entertained ourselves by reading Burma Shave signs such as, “The Queen of Hearts now loves the knave.  The King ran out of Burma Shave.”  or “I proposed to Ida.  Ida refused.  I’da won my Ida if I’da used Burma Shave. 
   I thought the highways went right through the middle of every town along the way.  Some of those towns seemed so anxious to be seen that the road wrapped around two or three sides of the town square before continuing on out of town.
   At last we got to Wyoming.  At least Wyoming had entertainment.  We watched for antelope.  Grandpa Freeman always gave each kid a dollar so treat the family to ice cream cones each day, so we always stopped at Little America for 10¢ cones.  Once we pulled over to the side of the road and just went running in the desert where we found bits of gypsum to collect.  At one place we stopped at a bluff above a town where we found petrified shark teeth. (shark teeth were actually in western South Dakota...but similar terrain)
   The end of Wyoming was a time of celebration because it meant we were in Utah at last and would soon be free of the car.  Usually we watched for Devil’s Slide as that meant we were getting close. Once in a while we were able to talk Dad into going down Logan Canyon instead where we always had to stop by Rick’s Spring to get a drink of cold water.
  Now with the interstate system the small towns are rarely even seen.  Finding a Dairy Queen for an afternoon ice cream cone is difficult.  Driving across country is faster and easier, but we now pass by small town America.  Sometimes I miss it.

Elizabeth Green Carter

I have no memories of Elizabeth Green.  She was a great-great grandmother who lived in far away England and died well before my time.   Many years later we moved to a small, northern Utah town where we lived for almost 17 years before it came to my attention that the far-away and long gone Elizabeth had left her home around the age of 79 and moved to America!  She had three daughters.  The oldest lived in England and had to work and was thus unable to care for her mother.  The youngest daughter had moved to America some years before.  When the middle daughter and her family decided to go to America shortly after the death of her father and Elizabeth's husband, Elizabeth determined to go as well.  In the story of her life, written by her middle daughter, we get a glimpse of her personality and adventures traveling across the ocean.  Elizabeth lived the last few years of her life in the same little town I now live in, so today I decided to try to find where she ended up.

                                      Elizabeth Green Carter

 Youngest daughter, Sarah Elizabeth Carter Wood who moved to the US some years before her mother.  She cared for her mother the last few years of her life.

Middle daughter,  Euphemia Jane Carter Freeman, with whom Elizabeth traveled to America when she was in her late 70s.

 There she was,  waiting here for me to discover her, right next to her daughter, Sarah Elizabeth Carter Wood and her granddaughter, Florence Ada Davis Gyllenskog.

I met Florence, who we called Florrie, when she was an elderly woman.  At the time I only knew she was a relative but didn't know how she was related.  Now I know she was my grandfather  Ernest Freeman's first cousin.

Florrie

Elizabeth, in spite of losing her mother at a young age, knew how to do many things:

1.   How to repair a sewing machine

2.   How to light a room brightly with a single candle.

3.  How to make a clothing pattern and make clothing

4.   Was able to make her own shoe uppers

She kept everyone on their toes while aboard the ship to America.   If you are interested in those things, read on.  If not...don't!

Elizabeth Green 1822-1906

Elizabeth Green Carter 1822-1906 of Loys Weedon, England by Euphemia Jane Carter Freeman 

 My mother's name was Elizabeth Green. She was the daughter of Richard Green and Elizabeth Branson and was born 21 August 1822 at Loys Weedon (Weedon by Weston), Northamptonshire, England. She was the youngest of 10 children and lived longer than any of her brothers or sisters. Her mother, Elizabeth Branson Green, died of cancer 21 December 1825 when my mother was a little over three years old. She was then cared for by her two older sisters and her father until about five and a half years later. By this time, both of her sisters had died and she was left at this tender age to practically take care of the home for her father. Her father, Richard Green, was a wonderful man. He took care of her and taught her how to cook, wash, do the housework, and take care of the home. She was about eight or nine years old at that time. Elizabeth being small, stood on a stool to do the dishes and laundry. Her father, a kind and patient man, taught Elizabeth how to do many things. He also taught her how to make uppers for her shoes. Then he would finish the shoes for her. When Richard Green could no longer care for himself, the vicar brought him to Blisworth, to live with his daughter Elizabeth and her family, to be cared for. This is a song he used to sing to them: 

        The cuckoo is a merry bird,   

        She sings as she flies, 

        She brings us good tidings 

        She tells us no lies, 

        She sucks little bird eggs 

        To make her voice clear, 

        Then she sings 'Cuckoo' 

        Three months in the year. 

Richard Green brought a 'Mormon tract' home one day, but it was never read and became lost. Mother had very little schooling. However, she attended some night school and learned to read and write and to sew. Thus she became a very good all-around housekeeper. When she was about fifteen years old, the wife of one of her brothers died and left a baby girl who was just 15 months old. Her brother brought the baby and came to live at his father's home. Mother took care of the baby and the home for all of them. This, or course, meant the end of her real schooling. Mother took care of this little niece until the girl grew up and married. During that time, my mother had a few weeks of night school and a little help in sewing. She taught herself to be a better seamstress because she could not get clothes for herself any other way. She used to unpick the sewing of her old clothes and dresses and then use them as a pattern to cut out the material for the new clothes. She got along in this way and learned to make almost all kinds of new clothes for men as well as for women. She made all of her father'

s clothes and later made all the clothes for her children. She also worked for an old lady who made lace. This lady could not sew very well, and she had Mother mend her husband's clothes as well as the other sewing and work. Mother would be at her place for a week; then when she got home again there was a lot of work waiting for her. People would bring their sewing and leave it so Mother could do it at home. Whatever Mother did, she did it well--her best. she always told us girls that if anything is worth doing, it is worth doing well, and we always remembered it. Everyone she did work for or who saw her work liked it. One dressmaker in Blisworth always had Mother help her with dressmaking because she like Mother's work so much. Mother was good to her neighbors. When they got material for their clothing for winter, they would take it to Mother and get her to cut out the material for them so they could make their clothes. If they had any other difficulties, they would come back to her for more help. In some cases she did the work for them. Her night sewing was done my candlelight. The candle was placed behind a large glass jar or bottle which was filled with water to diffuse the light. There were clothing clubs for winter, and the club members came to Mother and got her to make clothing for their men for winter. I have seen stacks of cloth in Mother's home, some cut out ready to be made up into clothes, some waiting to be cut out and some made up into clothing waiting for the people to come for it. She never charged anything for cutting out the material for people. I think that is one reason she was called on to do so much of it. Once a lady sent a pair of her son's pants for Mother to mend. In one of the pockets, Mother found a silver shilling. Mother said, "I wonder if that was put in there to see if I would keep it?" When Mother sent me to take the pants back she said, "You tell the lady about the shilling." I did so, but the lady did not say that Mother could keep the shilling. Some years later I worked for that same lady in service (lived at the home and did the house work). Elizabeth was thrifty and honest. If she owed anyone anything, she could be depended on to pay her debts. She had been doing all of her sewing by hand. Then after Polly started to work and sewing machines were available, she bought Elizabeth a sewing machine. It worked by hand (no treadle, just by the head), by turning the wheel by a small knob on the wheel. It was much easier than handwork and faster. When the machine would no longer work and no one knew what to do about it, she put it in a 'copper' and boiled it. After oiling, it worked as good as new. She made hundreds of men?s shirts besides large amounts of other clothing for men and women. In later years a man came to Elizabeth and asked her to make him a pair of trousers. He could find none which fitted as well as those she made. She had to say no. She would like to do them for him but her fingers could not pull the needle through the cloth anymore. I have often heard her say that if she had a shilling for every man?s shirt that she had made, she would be a rich woman. But as fast as she got money for her work it would have to go for something. Sometimes in the winter Father was out of work for weeks when the canal was frozen over, so Mother would have to be the breadwinner so she always had work to do for someone. Often she needed to go into debt to the baker for bread. She always paid him as soon as money was available. Mother was often asked to help in other ways. Whenever a baby was born to one of the neighbors, she was asked to go and help. She also went haymaking but she did not drink the beer that was allotted to her. She gave that to the men. there were no machines to do the work in those days like we have now. It was all hand work, and she went up the rows of hay and turned it over with a big fork so that it would dry. During and just after the grain harvest, she went gleaning in the grain fields, picking up heads of grain which were dropped as the grain was harvested, putting them into a sack. This was hard, tiring work. It was hard on the back, and then stubble cut and scratched her hands and arms. At the end of the day Mother put the sack full of grain heads on her head and carried it home. She went gleaning in fields several miles away from home and, of course, had to walk to the field in the morning and home with her load at night. This was done in order to help get flour for winter and many of the poorer people did this each year. When I and my older sister, Polly, were old enough, we had to go with Mother and help with the gleaning. We sometimes would stray off to the hedges and pick blackberries or go and hunt for crabs until Mother called us back to work. We walked two or three miles to the fields and then all over the fields to pick up the grain. Sometimes we would sit or lie down as we were so tired. One of Mother's neighbors was poor and had a large family of little children. Her husband's wages were small, and so it was hard for them to keep up with expenses. This woman came to Mother at times to borrow some money to help them along until pay day. The other neighbors did not trust this woman and told Mother not to lend her any money because they were sure she would never pay it back, but Mother loaned her a little money, and always, just as soon as her husband was paid, she returned the money which she had borrowed. Mother was kind to everyone and was always helping people who were worse off than she was, and seemed happy in doing it. Mother always said that she had a wonderful, good father, and she was very good to him for many years. It was always her father that she talked about. She hardly ever spoke of her mother because she never knew her and no one told her much about her. She was only 3 years old when her mother died. One of Mother's brothers went to live in Blisworth, a town just a few miles away. One time when Mother went to visit and help him, she met Henry Carter and later married him. Mother was 30 years and 11 months when she married Henry Carter in Blisworth on 11 July 1853. During all those years she was taking care of her father and brother and her niece. Her father never married again after his wife died although he was often advised to do so. He said, "It is easy to find a new wife but very hard to find a good mother for your children." When Mother got married, her father went to live in Wappenham and lived with one of his sons until he got so that he could not take care of himself and then the minister brought him to Mother so that she could take care of him. I can remember him quite well, especially one time while I was playing with some girl friends and I ran in the house to hide and found him lying along the top of the stairs. He had fallen off the bed and had pulled all the bed clothes off the bed as he tried to help himself up but was unable to do it. I ran along to Uncle Richard's place to tell Father and Mother about him. They had gone there to visit for a while. My mother cared for her father until he died at the age of ninety years. There were 4 children born to my mother and father---three girls and one boy. The oldest, my sister Mary Ann (known as Polly), then myself, Euphemia Jane, and then my brother, James Ira, who died when he was 16 months old,(I can just remember him.) and then my youngest sister, Sarah Elizabeth. I remember one time when I was home visiting with Mother that she had two large kettles of water, one on each side of the stove, boiling vigorously. I said, "Mother, why do you have so much water boiling?" Mother lived in a home just a short distance from the 'Workhouse' and it was getting close to winter. Mother said, "Well, I just want to be ready for the poor people who come to the Workhouse at night after their long walk from the villages around us where they have walked carrying articles that they have made or begged, to sell, so that they might have a little money to help them get along. Some have a little tea or coffee but no hot water and none of the other neighbors will help them, so I have some hot water that they can have to help them make a little warm drink to help warm them up. I have to have a fire anyhow, and it does not hurt me to help them, but it does make me feel good. Some of them do not even have tea or coffee, and I give them a little and also a little sugar to help them out. I am glad to do it." Then she said, "I hope that if any of my children need help sometime that they will find someone who will be kind enough to help them." The Workhouse was a place supported by the county where poor people could have a place to sleep and a breakfast in the morning. However, before they were allowed to leave in the morning, they had to accomplish a certain amount of work assigned to them which was the payment for their night's lodging and breakfast. They were assigned to do washing, scrubbing, digging, cleaning the premises, or anything which was necessary at the time. Whenever one of her brothers was sick or wanted to see Mother, a man would walk nine miles from Wappenham where they lived, to give Mother the message. She would walk back with the man, and when she was through visiting, she would walk home again. Mother was a great woman to walk. Although my mother did not walk across the plains and was not a pioneer, I think she was a great woman. She did just as much as they, only in a different way. She often tended some of the women when their babies were born, until they could do for themselves. When we girls were in service she made our dresses and sent them to us. Mother once took a little girl to take care of, for a woman who was always on a canal boat and therefore could not send her little girl to school. Mother thus made it possible for this child to get her schooling. She was always doing something for someone. Everybody always had a good work for Mrs. Carter as they used to call her. She was always kind and helpful to others; that is the way to make friends; that is the way our Father in Heaven likes his children on earth to do---love each other, help each other, and do all we can for each other?s benefit. Today people like themselves too much. Neighbors in those days used to help one another almost like one big family. People always found Mother to be a very honest person in whatever she did. She always liked fair dealings and honesty. She always paid her debts and did not owe anyone a penny when we left 'old England'. One night Mother went out somewhere before Father got home. When Father came home and found she had gone he thought he would play a joke on her, so he locked the door and went upstairs to bed. He thought he would lie there and hear her rap and call to be let in, but instead of having the laugh on her, she had it on him. He dropped off to sleep and when Mother got home she rapped and called but could not rouse him. She was wearing a very thick shawl so she wrapped it around her hand many times and smashed one of the windows and got in and went to bed. When Mother was a girl at home she wanted to mark her clothes. She did not have silk twist as they have today, so she marked them with her hair. When Mother was about fifty years old, something happened which at the time did not seem serious but which later developed into a very serious condition, almost resulting in her death. One day as she was doing the family washing and as usual, was stirring and pushing the clothes around and down into the hot water in the boiler with a round stick, she suddenly lost hold of the stick and somehow it was forced very hard up into her face. The end of it struck her lip near the left nostril. Although she did not pay much attention to it at the time, the blow injured her gum and cancer started to develop. It spread along her gum and down into her throat. She suffered for quite a long time. Then she heard of an old man in Northampton who had cured many people of tumors and cancers so she went to him for treatments. He told her it was a bleeding cancer and that it had probably been caused by a blow at some time. Mother told him how she at one time was struck by the stick as related, and he thought that was the cause of her present trouble. His treatment was very severe and caused Mother a lot of very intense suffering. It was necessary for my oldest sister, Mary Ann, to stay at home and take care of Mother and the home. I was out at work in Northampton and our youngest sister, Sarah was just about 10 years old and was, of course, at home helping. One day Mother called Sarah to her bedside and told her where to find her father's Sunday clothes, shirt, and handkerchief in case he needed them. Sarah was very much surprised and said, ?Mother, where are you going??...to which Mother replied, "I don't know." For some time, Mother had to have treatments every day, but she was finally cured. In the spring of the year 1902, after we had been members of the LDS church for about 12 years, the way was opened up for my husband and family to immigrate to America. Inasmuch as my father had died just a short time previously on 23 March 1902 and Mother was also a member of the Church and now alone, quite a problem faced us. I did not like to leave Mother behind when we left England, because my oldest sister had to work and would not be able to take care of her and my youngest sister was already in America and had been for ten years. So I decided, after talking with my husband, to bring Mother to America with us. She was delighted with the opportunity as she did want to see her youngest daughter, Sarah Elizabeth, and live with her for the remaining years of her life. Mother was 80 years old in August as we left England in June, 1902. She enjoyed the voyage across the ocean, was not seasick at all, and never missed a meal. She went all over the ship, even into the captain's cabin and also into the places where they were cutting meat and cleaning fish and getting them ready for cooking. One day she wandered into a cabin and saw a purse lying on the bed. She thought she was in our cabin, so she picked up the purse and went to find my husband. When she found him she said, "You should take better care of your money than to leave it lying on the bed. Somebody might take it." She gave him the purse and again told him not to be so careless with his money. My husband said, "Well, Mother, this is not my purse; mine is in my pocket." Mother laughed and went on her way. My husband opened the purse and found that it was full of foreign money. He took it to the elder who was in charge of the LDS immigrants and he in turn found out who it belonged to and returned it to them. Mother was hard to keep track of, especially so, as I was seasick the entire voyage and the rest of the family were sick for 2 or 3 days or more. We finally reached the home of my sister, Sarah Elizabeth, and her husband in Smithfield, Utah and Mother lived there until her death in March 1906. She was 83 years and 7 months old when she died and was buried in Smithfield, Utah. I don't know what else I can say in my mother's favor. I never knew anything but good about her. I hope she is at rest and that I shall see her again sometime.