It Was Our World War Too

Coming Home

Three conditions led to my early return to the States. In order to insure an orderly flow of troops home, a point system was developed to send those home first that had seen action, had been overseas the longest, and been in the service the longest. My points for the Okinawa invasion combined with the months that I was overseas and total months in the Marines gave me enough points to be among the first group to go home.

The second condition was very instrumental in my leaving early. We had no equipment to dispose of; it was all packed for the invasion of Japan. Everything that we had was on our backs or in our sea bags.

And finally, we were close to the airport where the Navy had dozens of transport planes on the tarmac. All military priorities were on hold. There were no more wounded to fly to hospitals or to the United States. The planes were there for the next casualties. Someone had this terrific idea. Why not gather up those Marines that had enough points to go home and fly them to California?

We were allowed to take only military issue with us. No souvenirs. I didn’t have any, but many of the Marines did. The only thing that I would liked to have brought home was a Navy flight jacket that I purchased from Joe. I have no idea where he got it. It would have been great for the cold Illinois winters. The officer said, “No!” I did have my 48-star American flag that I carried with me all the time. He looked at it and said, “OK.”

I had my first passenger-train ride and my first troop-ship cruise on the ocean, and now I was about to take my first airplane ride. They loaded us into one of the hospital planes.

I do not know how many others had the same good fortune. There were no windows; in fact there was little of anything. We could go to the head and wash up a bit, but there were no seats or bunks.

We took off our packs and set up our own little area using our sea bags to separate our space from the guy next door. We stayed on the runway with the engines running for quite a while.

Finally, the doors were closed and locked and we took off. As I recall, there were about a hundred Marines on the flight.

You would have thought that we would be a bunch of happy campers. I can’t say exactly why we were all so sober, but I remember spending a lot of time contemplating the fact that we were heading home instead of landing on the Japanese mainland.

If we were on our way to an invasion we would have been making light of the situation, trying to cheer each other up.

Instead we had hours to think of what lay in store for us. The plane went on and on. We made several landings but were only allowed off to stretch our legs while the plane was refueled. Then we took off again.

I have no idea where these stops were, but one of them must have been Hawaii.

At each stop we would wonder if this was as far as they were taking us before they decided they needed the plane for something else and would put us on a ship. We flew the whole way.

The final leg from our last stop to California was more of the same. As we neared our destination we lightened up a bit and exchanged ideas as to what they were going to do with us.

We all concluded that Pendleton was the likely choice and we probably would get some liberty.

Upon landing we disembarked. There were no cheering crowds or families to welcome us.

There were no parades or celebrations. No one knew we were coming.

We were moved into a hangar and given cake and ice cream served by Red Cross, Salvation Army, and USO workers.

This was quite a treat for all of us. While we were relaxing and stuffing ourselves with goodies someone called our attention to a big door at one end of the hangar.

The door opened and in rode Roy Rogers on his horse Trigger, followed closely by Dale Evans on her horse Buttermilk. They greeted us, thanked every one of us individually, and sang a number of songs before riding off into the sunset.

Then we were off to Pendleton where we expected to stay for a while. Instead our sea bags were confiscated, we were issued new dress greens and other necessary clothes, and given open-ended leaves.

That meant we were being sent home with the stipulation our leave would be over when they contacted us for our next assignment.

I called Anita and she spread the word I was about to leave California and would be home soon. We were both so excited we could hardly talk, and when we did it was very emotional.

When we got down to the last few seconds that were left on our three-minute phone call we did get to say to each other, “I love you.”

The train left Los Angeles on October 21st, just four days until our third wedding anniversary. As we stopped in Kansas City, I sent a telegram to Anita’s dad advising him that I would be arriving at Union Station in St. Louis on October 25th, our anniversary, giving him the time of my arrival, 12:15 p.m.

I asked him to let Anita know. I knew they would make plans for my arrival. Probably because of the emotion involved in our first meeting in over a year, neither Anita nor I had a clear picture of the details.

We do know she was staying at her sister Nell’s home and they had reserved a hotel room in St. Louis for Anita, Leslie, and me.

I was taken to the hotel, the bellboy took me to our room, and Anita and I had a very emotional meeting. We both cried and couldn’t talk. After a bit Anita said, “Let me introduce you to our daughter.”

I recall very clearly Leslie and I meeting for the first time. She was on the hotel bed, sound asleep, ten months old and as beautiful as Anita said she was. After a little touching, I managed to wake her and Leslie Ann and her father met for the first time.

I was able to hold her and play with her without any instructions. Having had the opportunity to hold and play with two younger brothers I was experienced.

The next day we went to Edwardsville and stayed at her parents’ house, occupying her old room that now also contained a crib for Leslie.

Anita’s dad was quite sick and we did our best to make him comfortable as we came and went. Mom and Dad had a welcome-home party for me and invited all of the relatives that were available.

I was among the first of the servicemen from the Pacific Theater to get home. As far as we knew at the time I was en route and may have to report to a new base.

We were unable to make firm plans for the future. I guessed that my orders to leave would probably come just before Thanksgiving and that I would be away for Christmas. But we knew this was temporary.

I would be discharged soon. That’s what my contract with the United States of America said: “For the Duration.”

I received my orders to report to Camp Lejeune on November 5th where I was assigned to Headquarters Company. I arrived at Camp Lejeune and was put on standby duty. We were put into the system and I began to be processed for discharge.

We were given counseling, were examined, but most importantly we were encouraged to enlist in the regulars. Failing to accomplish this, they tried to get us to sign up in the active reserves.

Not being able to get me to do this, I was transferred to the separation battalion, and on December 11th I was given an honorable discharge, separation pay, and travel money to get home.

I missed Thanksgiving but was home in time to participate in Leslie’s first birthday party and the Christmas holiday season.

As 1945 came to an end, we were living at 137 East Union Street in Edwardsville where we rented a two-story, two-room house not far from Anita’s mom and dad’s house on Arcadia Street and not far from my mom and dad’s house on Hanser Street.

This year and every year since we celebrated Leslie’s birthday first, then three days later Christmas. Each retaining its own importance.

Leslie sat alone at six months and had been walking since she was eleven months old. For her first birthday we gave her a tricycle and other gifts. For Christmas it was a large doll, a Raggedy Ann and Andy set, and clothes. Leslie had pictures taken on her first birthday and we took pictures of the Christmas gathering.

Per capita income was $7,223 as the year ended. Harry Truman was president and Cordell Hull won the Nobel Peace Prize. We hoped that the economy would be healthy. However, things would not be all that great in the young Kolesa household immediately. There would be several years of difficult times ahead.

There was so much to celebrate and be thankful for. We along with all of our friends seemed to want to celebrate New Year’s Eve with gusto.

This would be our first since the war was over. We all made reservations at Collinsville Park and started early. I bought Anita a very large corsage. We visited with all of our friends and toasted the coming year.

Anita’s dad’s health was failing fast and she spent a lot of time with him and her mother. He died at home on January 5, 1946.

The family was glad that he had seen the conclusion of the war which he had followed closely, the return of his youngest son Howard from his assignment in the Philippines, and his grandson Edward who had been wounded in the battle for Okinawa.

He also had the opportunity to see his youngest granddaughter Leslie for over a year.

Anita’s mom took his death very hard and became dependent on family care. The family agreed on a plan where Anita and I would move to Arcadia to take care of her.

We set about with Howard’s help converting the house to a two-family dwelling. The upstairs where we would live consisted of three rooms which became a kitchen, a bedroom, and a living room. We added an additional room downstairs.

The house was built on a hill and we each had ground-level entrances. This brought back many memories of the hours we spent on the porch before we were married.

Anita and I provided the labor and Howard provided the necessary funds.

This gave her mom a complete efficiency apartment. She had a kitchen, sleeping and living area, as well as a laundry area that we shared. We were now able to keep close watch on her.

Anita did the cooking for both families. Her mom kept her cooking stove and had a two-burner kerosene stove for her pot of tea. Among the many memories Leslie retains of her grandmother Rogers is their sharing many cups of tea.

Now we could get serious about our future. Congress had passed a number of laws that provided benefits for veterans.

All of these came under the heading of the G.I. Bill. Included in the package was the guarantee of your old job back if it was still in existence. I contacted my old employer and they said I was eligible and could start work as soon as I wanted. All I had to do was report to the personnel office with a copy of my discharge.

Upon my first visit to the NESCO plant since 1943, I was met by a union representative who advised me they had called for a strike and if I had planned on starting work that day I was assigned picket duty. Local #1021 even gave me a gate number and a schedule of my shifts.

I told him, “Thanks, but no thanks.” I wasn’t the least bit interested in participating in a strike that I knew nothing about.

Anita and I discussed the matter and we concluded that it would be best for us if I sought other employment. I don’t recall discussing the matter with my dad, even though he was a strong union supporter.

The G.I. Bill also provided tuition payment along with a small stipend for those who chose to continue their education. After discussing the situation, we decided an income was important now and the education could come later, which it did.

Was this any way to start our future in a world that had just come through so many years of war? Anita was totally in agreement with my feelings as we started out together to make a place for us in the postwar world.

Dad, even though he had a job, was still paying off debts incurred by his mother and was providing her with a small amount of financial help. They were also helping Mom’s mother and raising two teenage boys, John and Roy. Right or wrong, the decision was made and I set out to find a job. We built our life around that decision and never had any regrets.

Even though I began work at an early age, doing a multiplicity of jobs for pay, which included working at home for an allowance of ten cents a week, working for my grandmother Kolesa for several quarters, working as a private entrepreneur recycling scrap metal and other materials, delivering newspapers, doing farm labor, setting pins in a bowling alley, operating an elevator in a five-story office building, and working as a sheet-metal fabricator, my vocational life really began in 1946.

By this time, all my relatives that had served in the military had returned home. Mom and Dad had taken down the stars from their front window they had so proudly displayed. They both acknowledged the fact that Anita and I were married, had started our family, and were home for good.

During a trip to Edwardsville in September 1975 to attend a reunion of our 1940 football team, I had an opportunity to discuss World War II with coach Glenn Smith. He told me almost all of the boys from my class of ’42 served during the war. Two of them, Bob Thever, a marching-band member, and football player Charles Rizzoli, were killed in Europe during October 1944.