JEFFERSON BARRACKS

Going to war is serious business.   The line between youngster and man is sometimes not clear and then there are surprising circumstances to deal with.  In a different era, a different time, Max lays it on the line.

Transcript

JEFFERSON BARRACKS           

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Well, it’s another week and things are going slow though the anxiety on the farm front is rising.  Costs of farming are rising; seed, fertilizer, diesel fuel, etc., and that effects how you calculate things this year.  

Cousin Cliff, like so many others, rent their acreages out.  He still has twenty or so cows and a bull – sells the caves each spring, but that’s considered a hobby farm around here.  He’s in the insurance office most days.     

Max Heck is Cliff’s best friend.  They went to school together years ago in the Bloomfield one-room schoolhouse.  They meet twice a week for breakfast at the Southfork Dinner to share notes, gossip and argue with the other farmers who meet there.   Farmer’s wives have their own groups and clubs that meet regularly.  

Last Tuesday I was sitting on the front porch swing soaking in a few warm rays as Max and his dog Brownie walked by.  I invited him to come up and sit a spell and he did.  Max is a semi-official inspector of our town.  Every day, with Brownie at his side, he walks every bit of town, up one road then another.  It makes for a good walk for him and he enjoys it.

For a while, we talked about the government and international situations.  That’s one of his favorite topics.  After a bit, I asked him what the most memorable moment in his life was.  He thought and thought and I patiently held my tongue.  I figured he’d come up with something I may not have heard.

Well, he began, It all started when Cliff and I were arguing about the war.  The Japs had dropped bombs on Pearl Harbor and we were outraged that anyone would do that.  We were sixteen as I remember and full of spit and vinegar.  Cliff and I wanted to join the army and fight.  A lot of the guys said the same thing.  I know it don’t make much sense now but I guess you had to be there.  In fact, you were.  You were just a little kid, over at your grampa’s place south of town.  

Well, the grown-ups had been debating things up and down.  For a long time, everybody had been following what the Germans had been doing over there and the general opinion was to stay out of the war.  But, when we were bombed, and the president declared war, attitudes changed overnight.  Course we were still in the depression days but as a young guy that didn’t affect me much.  

Phil Donnelly and your grampa Fred drove his old truck to Ottumwa every week to deliver farm produce.  They got a better price at the local stores there.  

Well, as I said, Cliff and I were arguing and a challenge was raised.  I still think Cliff challenged me but Cliff says I challenged him.  The upshot was that we had to join up or be a coward.  We didn’t tell our folks.  After all, at that age, we thought we were old enough to make decisions on our own and this was a decision that seemed right to us.

We told Phil we wanted to go to Ottumwa for the ride and they let us go – riding in the back of the truck.   

At that time the Farmer’s Market was a block north of the bridge.  We asked around and found the recruiting station in a building right across the road from where the train station is today.  There was a line of people waiting to sign up.  Many were adults but there were some younger guys about our age. 

Dorrie Graham from West Grove was in line.  My dad knew his dad.  We went over and talked to him.  He was older than us but not by much.  He was gung-ho about being a soldier and told us the train to Chicago was leaving the next morning and if we were serious we should sign up now.  That’s all it took to convince us.  We got in line.

We waited for about an hour before it was our time to be interviewed and fill out forms.  The recruiter was an older, distinguished-looking guy sitting at the recruiting table in full uniform.  He had a rifle and helmet propped up to the wall behind him.    The first question he asked us was, “Have we been drinking?”  We hadn’t been.

Next, he asked how old we were.  We didn’t lie.  We told him we were sixteen.  He asked us how many months before we were seventeen.  We figured that out and he said that was close enough.  He asked us if our parents had given us permission to join.  Immediately Cliff responded that he was old enough to make his own decisions; I seconded that.  

The recruiter looked us over real good and hesitated.  I don’t know what he was thinking but finally, he said “You’re in.”   We jumped up and down like a couple of nuts.

He explained to us that we would go by train first to Chicago and from there to St Louis to Jefferson Barracks where we would be processed into the army and then get basic training.

With papers in hand and a Pass for the train, we headed back to the Farmer’s market.  On the way back we ran into Dorrie again.  He was with another guy and two girls.  They were celebrating and asked us to join them.  We did for a bit.  We went to a bar and they ordered a beer.  We barely had fifty cents between us and knew this was not going in the right direction, so we congratulated Dorrie and said good-by.  Dorrie hollered “I’ll see you on the train,” as we left.

It was about that time that the magnitude of what we had done hit us.  We sat down on the curb and looked at each other.  Cliff lifted the recruitment papers as if to ask “What have we done?”  I think I just shrugged and looked away.  For a long time, we just sat there.  

More revelers came by.  Some had signed up and were celebrating.  Their friends were congratulating them, shaking their hands and slapping them on the back.  They had done the right thing.  We believed it was the right thing too but it didn’t feel like it.  Someone saw the papers in our hands and pointed to us.  The whole bunch crowded round us and congratulated us.  That lifted our spirits and we joined the group.  

The group eventually made it around to the Farmer’s Market.  It was beginning to get dark and be time to go back home soon.  

Phillip Donnelly was at the truck.  He had sold all the produce and was waiting for us to return.  The only question he asked us after we told him of signing up was “Did you talk this over with your folks?”  The answer was “No.”  He didn’t comment or tell us we were dumb or anything.  He just looked at us.  I didn’t know what to think.  I thought we had done the right thing but, In fact, I don’t think either of us thought they would let us sign up.  

Finally, Cliff showed Phil the Train Pass and said “We’re leaving in the morning.”

There was an eternity of silence.

Phil countered, “How much money you got on you?”

“Fifty cents.”

Phil dug up money out of his pocket.  “You’re gonna need this,” he said, as he handed a dollar to Cliff and another to me.  That don’t sound like much but it was then.  Corn was selling for fifteen cents a bushel - a beer was a nickel.

I think that sealed it.  We were going to the army.

When Fred showed up we went over the story again.  Fred didn’t say much either but as I remember it, he congratulated us.   As twilight dimmed we were left standing by ourselves in the Farmers’ Market.  

Some store lights came on lighting the street a bit.  Revelers were still making noise and as far as we knew more people were signing up over by the train station.

It was warm that evening.  We spent the night under a tree close to the train station.  

Daylight woke us up and we were the first at the train station which was only a platform where the train stopped.  Several other recruits including Dorrie showed up before the train came in.  They were all talking excitedly about being soldiers.  It was almost seven when the recruiter showed up.   

Sure enough, the train came lumbering in at about seven.  We were hungry but not ready to spend the meager amount of money we had on food.  Again we lined up and as we got on the train the recruiter checked off our names.  

The train had several passenger cars so we could sit about where we wanted.   We picked a seat together and settled down.  

In those days trains stopped a lot to pick up produce as well as passengers.  We were hungry by noon but some of the recruits had brought food for the trip.  We were comrades-in-arms and got a share of the bountiful sandwiches.  Some slept most of the time.  Others moved from group to group to talk.  Cliff slept a lot.  It was dark when we got to Chicago.

When we got there we found out that the train, the one to St Louis, wasn’t going to leave until the next morning.  We were hungry again.  There were people selling sandwiches, beer, and other stuff.  We got a sandwich and found a quiet place to eat.   There were a lot of recruits that had been waiting all day at the station. 

I had to go to the bathroom.  Cliff stayed where we had been sitting.  As I was coming out of the bathroom three big guys pinned me to the wall and emptied my pockets then threw me to the floor.  I was shocked and didn’t know what to do.  I found a policeman and told him what had happened.  He just shook his head and told me I should have known better than to go in there by myself.

When I got back to Cliff several people were sitting with him.  It was a family that was on their way to Detroit Michigan.  They had run into hard times in Nebraska and were going back to their family to live.  They shared the food they had.

We took the second train to St Louis that left Chicago that morning.  Again, the train stopped at every little town on the way to pick up goods of all kinds.   When we got to St Louis some passengers got off but not the army recruits.  We had a bit further south to go.

The train went on along the west side of the Missippi to Jefferson Barracks.  The Barracks, buildings, and drill field are there today.  Cliff and I took a trip to St Louis once, just to see it. 

Well, we all got off and hiked up the steep grade to the barracks where we were given a meal.  I don’t remember what we ate but I was starving and I remember it filled me up.  After that, we were taken to a big building and given a bed.   I was tired and soon went to sleep.

A bugler woke us up early the next morning.  I’d never heard that before.  We had a small breakfast then were herded into a large room and undressed.  This was the physical exam.  There were seven long lines of naked men – maybe two hundred or so - waiting to be examined.  At the end of each line was a doctor and his assistant.  When came my turn they probed, grunted, and checked things off their list.  Then I was sent to another line.  It took all morning.  

Cliff and I were in different lines so I didn’t see him until dinner time.  

After dinner, we were supposed to find our assigned barracks.  Cliff and I couldn’t find our names on any assignment sheet.  We were confused and didn’t know what to do next.  After wandering around for a while we went back to the dining hall and saw a doctor drinking coffee.  We asked him what we should do.  He directed us to a different bulletin board.  We found both of our names on a list.  We were to go to Barrack B7.  

It took us a while to get there.  No one we asked seemed to know where it was but finally, we found it.  It was separated from the large barracks and was down by the drill field.  About a dozen other guys were already there.  

We didn’t notice it at first but something was not the same.  These guys were not “gung-ho,” excited and as actively talking as we had experienced with the other recruits.  Then someone mentioned “We’re going home,”

I can still hear Cliff yelling: “What?”   

“Yeah, we failed the physical,” came a reply.

Well, they were right.  Both Cliff and I failed.  It turned out I have flat feet and Cliff has adenoids.  It was a great ”let-down.”  We were gonna be soldiers, save the world from tyranny, and see the world one minute, then it was all gone.  

We had to stay a week until the next train going to Chicago would come but we ate in the mess hall with the other soldiers.  By the end of the week they weren’t as jubilant as they were when they were just a recruit.

The trip back home to Iowa was boring but we did get a roaring welcome home.  

With that, Max and Brownie sauntered down to the sidewalk, gave me a sharp salute, and was off to complete his walk.

Well, that’s it for now.

From where the corn grows tall, and pigs fly.

Take care.

All my love.

Grampa Jim