Veterans Day, 2019

When we were kids, November 11 was called Armistice Day—because it was the 11^th hour of the 11^th day of the 11^th month of 1918—the end of World War I.  And oh my, how many wars since then!  My parents remembered and told stories about the first Armistice Day since they were about 5-6 years old and remembered the celebrations.  I like to think of them running around as kids, in adjoining counties—Lee and Ogle--but not knowing each other, listening to the farm bells, celebrating what they probably didn’t understand. But since both my grandfathers had been registered for the draft, at least they could put that worry aside.

Dad, being deceased, technically is not honored today—that’s for Memorial Day, but he  “was inducted into the Marine Corps in March, 1944, at San Diego, California.  After completing his training, he was assigned to the U.S.S. Mayo and made two trips across the Atlantic and one trip each to Okinawa, the Philippines and Japan.  He was discharged in December, 1945.” [War Record of Mt. Morris]  It is my recollection he was home in time for Christmas that year, and I think Mom went all out—we got the doll house (to share) and the sled (to share). I’m not sure what he gave my brother, but we three girls each got pure silk hand bags—mine was red and yellow—I had it well into adulthood packed away, but have no idea where it is now.  Dad had worked for Standard Oil before going into the service, and he still had a job, but not the same territory, so he was driving every day to the area around Forreston and Freeport, and that’s why we moved in 1946 (or could have been early 1947—memory is a bit rusty).

The Mt. Morris Index kept up with all the soldiers away from home and although we have none of his letters  I was able to include one of his letters to the Index about a mix-up in his mail, August 1944 when he was still a private in one of my memory compilations of 2002.  The information from the Index I found in a file folder Dad kept in his desk on Lincoln St.--they would be 75 years old if someone in the family still has those newspaper clippings.  There are a few references to our family which moved to Alameda, California, while he was stationed in California. I think the editor (Tommy ?) did that for all the men who were in the war.   In the June 29, 1945, clipping it mentions he was a payroll clerk on the Mayo.  He told me years later that because he could type (won a prize at Polo H.S.) he wasn’t in combat.  I’d always figured it was because he had 4 children and was in his 30s—much older than most of the men!  He had a leave he spent in Mt. Morris because his ship was docked in Boston, but we were on the road with our mother returning from California, and didn’t get to see him.