It Was Our World War Too

Greetings

The draft board directed me to appear at the American Legion Home, 2400 Madison Avenue in Granite City, at 8:30 a.m. on Friday, March 5, 1943. As stated on the notice, the examination was only of a preliminary nature for the purpose of disclosing obvious defects.

I must have passed, because on April 1, All Fools’ Day, my “Greetings” were mailed to me by Local Board No. 1, Granite City, Illinois, City Hall. My number was 12454. I was ordered to report at 11:45 p.m. for induction. I would take the train to Chicago. Yes, that’s 15 minutes before midnight.

Because I had arranged to quit my job and move back to Edwardsville, I was able to get my instructions changed to allow me to join the group as the train stopped in Edwardsville at the Wabash Railroad Depot. The depot was located near my grandmother’s house, and family and friends gathered there to see me off in the early morning hour.

Anita and I spent most of the time alone, talking. Neither of us were happy at that time. I remember once we went outside to be alone and talk about it. That didn’t help. We wanted to make it all go away.

We both knew it was the right thing to do and I had to serve our country against the aggressors. I don’t remember any of the details, but we prayed over it.

We went back in the house and talked with the friends and family members who had come to see me off. I wasn’t the first family member to leave, but that didn’t make it easier for any of us. Frank and uncles Tony, Rudy, and Bill had already left for their assignments.

My cousin Bennett was seventeen. He planned to join the Navy, which he did.

Those wishing me well, in addition to Anita, Mom and Dad, John and Roy, and both of my grandmothers, were Aunt Mary, Aunt Dorothy, and other relatives. Friends included Betty Fletcher and her soon-to-be husband Al Paul, and Betty’s brother Willard, who was there in his Navy Air Force uniform. Other friends and relatives were there also.

Sorry I don’t have records or can’t remember them all. However, I remember Ruth Jacobs, a friend of ours who married Bruce Barth. Ruth was a classmate of mine and Bruce was a classmate of Anita’s.

Along with the anxiety of leaving for my military service, I faced the experience of taking my first train ride. Because I had lived in Grandmother’s house several times and visited there often, I knew all about trains and how big they were. Still it was to be an experience to ride on a passenger train.

Several hours after midnight we were told it was coming. We waited and waited. As we saw the lights approach it stopped. Then it started again and pulled into the station. It was pulled by a steam locomotive, as were all trains that came through Edwardsville. It screeched and hissed as it stopped. We had a brief opportunity to say goodbye before we heard the “All aboard” request to get on the train. Friends stood in the background. Family members had their chance to say their last words.

The remaining minutes were devoted to Anita. They seemed like seconds.

As I recall, there were about two dozen young men who got on the train for our trip to Chicago that morning. We had been instructed to pack only essential items. I filled a gym bag with toilet articles, a few extra clothes, a 48-star American flag, and a picture of Anita.

Even though I didn’t sleep much that night on the train, I was able to figure out how the restrooms worked and how often people seemed to use them. By the time it was daylight we were in northern Illinois and nearing Chicago.

On the 16th day of April, after a thorough physical examination, I was accepted and approved for military service at the Chicago Ordnance Station. The physical was quite thorough, but I didn’t feel it was as bad as many recruits described it.

There was the complete strip-down, doctors looking in every opening that God provided your body with, questions and more questions, bloodletting, and checks for sexual diseases. At this time in the induction process, I was listed as being 5′7½″ tall, weighing 165 pounds, brown hair, a ruddy complexion, green eyes, a mean circumference of 36″, and had 20-20 vision in both eyes.

It was here that I lost the first of my colorful shirts. It was confiscated. I was then interviewed by a Marine Corps recruiting officer who asked if I had ever considered joining the Marines. It seems they had the privilege of selecting a given number of qualified recruits for enlistment in the Marines. Up to this time we had been under the impression that if we had not enlisted in the Marines, Navy, or Coast Guard we would be in the Army now.

It was almost fifty years later that I found out what happened to me was not uncommon. When I expressed an interest in becoming a Marine, I was tagged and moved to the Navy section, inducted into the Navy, discharged on the spot, and signed up in the Marine Corps.

I was moved to the Navy Pier until April 30, when I was assigned active duty in the United States Marine Corps. I don’t know how the rest of the family felt, but I was pleased. Semper Fidelis!

The United States Marine Corps, a separate service of the Department of the Navy, is headed by a commandant, a general. A force of two battalions of Marines was authorized by the Continental Congress on November 10, 1775.

In addition to their service during the fight for independence, the Marines played an important role in the War of 1812, the Mexican War, the Civil War, the Spanish-American War, and the Boxer Rebellion.

During World War I, artillery and aviation units were added to the Corps along with the Marine Corps Women’s Reserve.

It was normal policy during World War II to send recruits from east of the Mississippi River to Parris Island, South Carolina, for training. However, that facility was full to capacity with Marine recruits and specialized training. Army personnel that were to be assigned special duty with the European operation were being trained by Marines. Because of this, the group that I was in was sent to the Recruit Depot in San Diego, California.

Letters I wrote home indicated that we spent a few days in Chicago, waiting for additional recruits to make up a trainload.

We were given day passes and I was able to do a little sightseeing. In addition to letters to Anita and Mom and Dad, I made several phone calls to Anita.

Her brother Howard had a telephone installed so he could keep in touch with his parents while he was working in Alaska.

We took advantage of it and were able to express our love for each other even though we were 300 miles apart. We finally left for San Diego by train on April 30.

There were hundreds of well-wishers seeing everyone off. Most of the men leaving were from the Chicago area, so they had many friends and relatives present. We were assigned to specific cars and sleeping quarters. I was given a lower berth and was able to see the countryside pass as we headed out of Chicago and on through Illinois.

The trip took a week. It made many stops along the way, and it was very difficult for the group leaders to keep the recruits on the train. At many of the stops there were organized groups, including some with bands, to greet the train and wish those boarding a safe trip and a speedy return.

From the first day out I began my serious letter-writing campaign consisting of a letter every day and sometimes two or more. I had no trouble thinking of what I would write about or what my cartoon would be.

All my letters to Anita had the cartoon on the outside of the envelope, similar to the Valentine’s Day one I sent to “Pretty Girl.”

I don’t know the exact reason for this except that it was meant to convey love and help keep both of our spirits up.

Anita kept the more meaningful envelopes and the letters. These keepsakes have provided me with dates and locations that enabled me to pinpoint events that would otherwise be vague memories.

The contents of the letters reflect the feelings of an 18-year-old husband who was very much in love.

My first letter with the cartoons demanded, “Hey Mail Man, Rush! This is my first letter home.” It was followed with, “I’m leaving Chicago.”

Several letters bore the same Texas postmark, and on May 3rd I complained about the long train ride. My arrival in California was noted on the May 5th letter.

It had become a tradition during wars to let neighbors and friends know that you had a loved one serving in the military by displaying a red, white, and blue banner in your window with a silver star in the center. Mom and Dad hung their second such banner in their living-room window.

They lived in fear that one or both of these stars would have to be replaced with a gold star, which was the practice if the person it represented was killed while in the service. Anita had a silver star for me.