May 24, 1992
Marcia, do you know what you are Asking? I will try to give you an accurate report, warts and all. It appears that my memories relating to my military service can best be reported by giving a biographical sketch of that period of my life. So here goes.
By graduation day from high school in 1941 nearly everyone sensed that the United States would soon be at war. It was already involved to the extent possible without a formal declaration of war. Most of the boys in my class expected to be in the army or navy within a short time and most were. The exceptions were two of my classmates that enrolled in college the following fall and myself with a farm deferment. Actually the deferment wasn’t received until after I was required to register on my 18th birthday. I felt alienation from my high school friends which was probably more imagined than real, but due to my Mennonite upbringing I was different. Did not fit in with the kids in Canton.
Shortly after the selective service act was passed my father returned from a visit with Walt and Delia in Chicago very upset because Walt had registered or had indicated that he was going to register for regular service. Father fussed and fumed about it one day when we working in the barn.
There was a similar reaction when brother Bill enlisted in the Air Force. I must admit that I too felt that Bill had done the wrong thing. In a short time any feelings of disappointment and disapproval were overcome and the family was just as supportive to Bill in the Air Force as to Dan in CPS camp. My thinking was in line with Dan’s reasoning when he registered as a conscientious objector that would not accept noncombatant service in the Army as an alternative.
I was soon to have serious reservations in regards to the conscientious objector stand. I was in conflict as I became more and more convinced that one had a duty to serve his country in its struggle with the fascist regimes. The climate during World War II was much different from what you probably remember of the Vietnam War. Most people considered it a moral war. (There is an oxymoron for you. How can anything so intrinsically evil be moral?) It may seem strange, but that was the general perception. I was caught up in the patriotic feeling of the time and it definitely influenced my thinking. I did not seek, nor did I receive, any counseling from anyone in the church with respect to this decision, however was influenced to some extent by what was said in church and by editorials in the church papers. I do not remember father discussing the subject with me, but was aware of his feelings regarding regular service by his reactions to Walt and Bills decisions.
It seemed to me that for some of my contemporaries in the Eden Church the CO stand was a dodge. Not so much a matter of principle as a way of avoiding unpleasant and hazardous duty. While there may have been some of that I realize in retrospect that I was much too judgmental. When the time came I registered non-combatant, aware of the risks, aware I could end up on a battle field. If required to serve my preference was the Medical Corps. I have not regretted this decision because it was an honest thoughtful decision. I believed in what I did.
My farm deferment was revoked by the summer of 1944. A few days before the scheduled departure date for induction into the Army father became seriously ill with encephalitis, sometimes referred to as sleeping sickness. Dr. Jones approached me in the yard and told me that I would not be leaving on Monday because he was going to handle with the draft board for a temporary deferment. I was inducted on October 10, less then a month after my 21st birthday, after the wheat had been seeded and the corn put into the silo. After the induction process was completed, which took three or four days, several hundred rookies, yours truly included, were transported to the Missouri Pacific depot at Leavenworth where we boarded a troop train destination un- known. All day we speculated regarding the destination. By nightfall we were in Little Rock. We had pullman accommodations and meals were served on the train. The following morning we found ourselves in Texarkana, where we transferred to a train which took us to Gamp Fannin near Tyler, Texas. Immediately upon arriving at Camp Fannin I knew I had a problem. Camp Fannin was an infantry replacement training center. Its purpose was to train and condition in a 17 week period troops to be sent to the various battle areas to replace the troops that had been killed or injured. At that time there was no troop rotation. Once one got to a war zone one was there for the duration, there was no way out except by death or injury. The prospect of hazardous duty was not my primary concern. I knew there was a good chance of that happening in the Medical Corps. What concerned me the most was what I would be expected to do when and if I found myself on a battle field.
After we were settled in the barracks we were ordered to report to the supply clerk for issuance of gear which included among other things a Ml rifle. I took my gear to the barrack and then returned to company headquarters requesting to see the Company Commander. The Company Clerk asked why I wanted to see the Captain at which time I explained that I was a conscientious objector. Captain Wade overheard our conversation, charged out of his office cursing and questioning me at the same time. He asked if I had hunted and proceeded with something like this, “If you can kill innocent rabbits why in the (expletives omitted) can’t you kill those (expletive omitted) Germans and Japs.” He also remarked that I wouldn’t have to shoot at the enemy, I could shoot over their heads. He ordered me to return to my barrack, stow my gear, clean the packing grease off of the Ml, assemble it and prepare for inspection. I returned to the barrack thoroughly confused, not knowing what to do, but decided to comply with his orders until the matter could be given further thought.
On my first opportunity which, I think, was the following day I visited the Protestant Chaplain. His first comment was that Captain Wade told him about me the previous evening at the officers club. The Chaplain questioned me about my background and religious training and expressed the opinion that there was no conflict between military service and christianity, but did not press the issue. He was not judgmental, in fact he seemed sympathetic. The Chaplain arranged for an interview with Major , his name or title escape me, and counseled to continue in infantry training for the time being, assuring me that by doing so I would not jeopardize my C O stand.
There was nothing military about the Major. When entering his office I saluted, he was caught off guard, the pen in his hand crashed to the floor as he returned the salute. Some dumb things one never forgets. He was what in army jargon is called a civilian in army uniform. The Major agreed that a mistake had been made and assured me that my classification would be straightened out.
Five weeks elapsed before I was finally told to return the infantry gear to the supply clerk. This five week period was physically the most grueling period in my life. As stated earlier it was a 17 week training course. In this short time soft ill conditioned civilians were made combat ready. They were conditioned to make long marches, to move fast, and at the same time had to attend classes in map and compass reading and a whole host of other things as well as to undergo weapons training and field exercises. I was sleep deprived after the first day, a person was lucky to get 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep. One night we were awakened at 2 AM and made a 20 mile march with full pack and a Ml rifle ( pack and rifle weighed about 25 pounds) and were back in time for breakfast. The most grueling exercise for me was what was called the rat race. The first week we covered 1 mile in ten minutes with full pack and rifle. That was easy, but each week one mile was added so that by the 5th week we covered 5 miles in 50 minutes. We alternated march at very fastgait with double time (trot) every two to three hundred yards. The fast march was the worst part of it. I was always glad to hear the order, double time. Never before had I suffered shin splits and I hope to never again. I had it easy compared to many of my comrades. By 1944 the draft boards were scraping the bottom of the barrel. Many of the men were in their middle thirties and had been in sedentary jobs. Some were overweight when the training started. Excess fat was lost in a hurry. There were some kids recently out of high school and than there were a few like me in their twenties, mostly off of farms. I felt sorry for the old guys.
To my surprise there was little reaction from the enlisted men when the news got around about my classification change. There was some coolness, I was left pretty much to myself and one fellow, called me a privileged character to my face. Considering the circumstances and what they were going through and facing, they were very tolerant.
Following release from infantry basic training, I was assigned to K. P. duty. The first day was spent peeling potatoes with a fellow from North Dakota. He was a C O, a Seventh Day Adventist. His experience was much the same as mine. Somehow I did not feel quite so alone.
On the second day the Mess Sergeant needed someone to make the coffee. I was lucky enough to get the job. The coffee maker was a two tank percolator. Each tank’s capacity must have been about 15 gallons. All the operator had to do was measure out the prescribed amount of coffee grounds, put coffee into the containers on top of the tanks, open and close some valves and when the coffee was brewed fill the pitchers. What a snap job. This lasted two to three weeks. Early in December, about two months after arriving at Camp Fannin I was on my way to Camp Barkely, a Medical Corps training center near Abilene, Texas. I was almost euphoric, finally I would be in service that did not conflict with my beliefs. But to my dismay service in the Medical Corps was to be short lived.
After only about one weeks training the training at Camp Barkely was discontinued. We were told that no new classes would be started for some time as the Army had an oversupply of medics. The entire class was put into a causal company, a company where men are held temporary pending assignment.
About the middle of January two bus loads were transported to Fort Sam Houston at San Antonio, Texas. My hopes were up because Fort Sam is the site of an army hospital and medics were also trained there. But I was soon to learn that I was assigned to a Military Police unit.
The first six weeks were spent almost entirely in classroom instruction in basic military police procedures. We soon learned that we were being prepared for occupation duty in the far east. We had some classes on Japanese culture and learned some Japanese phrases.
In March we were moved to Camp Bliss about ten miles from Fort Sam for field exercises. The Company took shape. I was assigned to a clerk-typist position and was promoted to the rank of technician 5th grade which is equivalent to corporal.
Small arms training was required. I went along with this training not saying anything about my C O stand. One morning the Company Commander called me into his tent and told me that he noticed in my service record that I was a conscientious objector and asked if I wished to be transferred to another branch of service such as the Medical Corps. I told him that in view of the nature of my duties I could continue in his unit.
My convictions had not changed, I simply failed to live up to them. Later I regretted the decision made that day, in fact; I still do. Fortunately the war was coming to a rapid end. We knew it was all but over in Europe but in the far east it was a different story as it appeared that Japan would hold on for a long time. We did not know about the atomic bomb. I was not required to do anything that violated my conscience, but the fact remains that I could have found myself in that dilemma due to my foolish decision on that fateful morning.
Overseas physicals were required before shipping out. Due to a severe case of acne on the back of my neck, shoulders and back I failed the physical. The doctors looked at me, then at each other and agreed that the far east was not a place for someone with my problem. Within a few days another fellow who had also failed the physical and I were enroute to Camp Wallace which was located about half way between Houston and Galveston.
Camp Wallace was a prisoner of war camp with perhaps 50 enlisted men and 2,000 German prisoners of war. Arrival at the camp was May 6, 1945, one day before Germany surrendered. My duty at Camp Wallace consisted primarily of taking turns on a guard tower with instructions to call the officer of the day should there be any disturbance in the Compound.
My stay at Camp Wallace lasted only three months . In August I was given orders to report to Camp Chaffee near Fort Smith, Arkansas for counseling school. I had nc idea what it was about until the orientation where we were informed that we had been selected to work in separation centers. Our duty was to consist primarily of interviewing service men being separated from the army, explain the benefits that they were entitled to under the newly enacted G. I. Bill Of Rights, explain the conversion options available under the National Service Life Insurance policies and complete Form 100 which was a resume of skills and education acquired while in service that could be beneficial when seeking employment. In about four weeks I was on my way to Camp Fannin . It was no longer an infantry replacement training center, it was a separation center. The war was over and the rush was on to get the service men out of the armed forces as quickly as possible.
This was a good assignment which lasted at Camp Fannin until the separation center closed in March 1946 at which time I was transferred to Camp Chaffee to work in the separation center there until it also was closed in May. The atmosphere in the barracks was more like a college dormitory than an army barrack. We had some lively discussions regarding events of the day.
An infantry unit was being separated at Camp Chaffee. I found myself across the desk from one of the fellows that was in basic training with me at Camp Fannin. He got in on the fighting in Germany in the last few months of the war. He asked if I remembered Elva and Alva Jenkins, which I did. Who could forget twin boys named Elva and Alva. They were lanky red headed boys from Oklahoma fresh out of high school. He told me that an artillery shell killed one of the twins and caused the other twin to lose a leg. Later when reflecting on this I thought to myself, I could have been there and the fellow that called me a privileged character was right. It is fitting that I relate this story on Memorial Day.
When the separation center at Camp Chaffee closed I was transferred to Camp Polk, Louisiana where I served in the camp military police until I qualified for discharge from the Army. Duty consisted mostly of police duty in Leesville near the camp. Most of the time I was desk sergeant, but did some street patrol duty. As night desk sergeant I booked the fellows arrested through the night, mostly for drunkenness and disorderly conduct. Many times a couple dozen G. I.’s were arrested in a single night. They were held until morning and then transported to their units for disciplinary action by their commanding officers. This was terrible duty in a terrible place.
On August 1st, 1946 I received my discharge at Fort Sheridan, II. In a few days home. I was glad that it was over, perhaps a little wiser.
Your Uncle Herb.
P. S. Typing this paper was a chore. I was once a fair typist. It is true, if you don’t use it you lose it. Please overlook the mistakes .
HDG
May 26, 1992
Dear Marcia:
I decided to supplement my report to more completely answer some of your questions.
One positive aspect of my military service was association with men from various ethnic origins and cultural backgrounds. You name it, there was contact with men from almost all ethnic groups, the most noticeable exception being Blacks. The Army was still segregated.
The Jews and Italians from New York were a separate breed. So very different from what I was accustomed too. When first at Camp Fannin several men in the Company from the hill country in Tennessee and Kentucky were functionally illiterate. On my second visit to Camp Fannin I was with a group that was well above average. Many were teachers in civilian life. My best friend was prior to service a sports writer for the Greensboro, North Carolina paper. So you see, I was exposed to fellows from diverse ethnic origins and with various cultural, religious and educational backgrounds. I am sure that it widened my horizon.
There were always those around that seemed to have nothing on their minds but to go out & carouse. The other kind were also there. I could always find fellows interested in attending chapel and church on Sunday mornings and in going to town or the USO for a good time.
When in service I became aware of the terrible conditions under which the Blacks lived in the south. One day we handled discharges for Black Signalmen. I interviewed nine men that day, all were from Nacogdoches Parish, Louisiana. Not one could read or write. It was pointless to tell them about their rights under the G I Bill or to talk to them about insurance. There was precious little in their service records that would help them when seeking employment. What chance did they have to improve their lot in life?
My short tour of duty with the Military Police at Camp Polk opened my eyes to the injustices suffered by the indigenous Black population by the hands of the City and Parish police. Somethings were unbelievable, searches of homes without search warrants. A Black woman was attempting to remove a wheel with a flat tire, she was on her haunches trying to loosen a wheel lug, a policeman with no apparent reason walked up to her and hit her on the side of her head knocking her to the ground. The Blacks had no civil rights. These experiences were largely responsible for me becoming a democrat. The Democrats were not perfect, not by a long shot, but they were the only party that showed some interest in improving the lot of minorities including the Blacks.
A humorous incident.
High School football was a big thing in Texas and from what I hear it still is. On Thanksgiving Day 1945 Tyler played Longview for the league championship. An Irish-Catholic friend from Boston and I decided to go to the game. There was a large crowd present for a high school game. Tyler’s band formed in front of the stands and played what sounded to me like, “I’ve Been Working On The Railroad.” Every one, except my friend and I, stood up. The people around us were giving us funny looks, finally a big burly Texan standing directly in front of me turned around, grabbed me by the front of my shirt, lifted me to a standing position and said, “Stand up you damm yankee.” The crowd had a good laugh, we did too when we learned that the band was playing their national anthem, “The Eyes Of Texas Are Upon You”.
Good luck with your project.
Herb
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