A YEAR IN THE CIVILIAN CONSERVATION CORPS
Early in the first term of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, a need developed to provide some meaningful employment for the thousands of unemployed young fellows around the country. The growing soup kitchen lines of people in the large cities, especially, were a very significant social problem. At the same time, there were many public needs-- for parks, roads, picnic facilities, monuments, and the like--that could be handled as public works projects, if funds were available.
Presto! The Civilian Conservation Corps was created! This large program started in 1934 or 35, with camps established all around the United States. The main concentration of camps was in the western states. The plan was for unemployed, needy young men eighteen to thirty years of age (approximate limits--some were even older than thirty) to be enlisted in the Corps. They went to the more or less isolated camps, and were employed in healthy, outdoor work, and given good food and medical care. They were taught the disciplines of the army, for the camps were officered by reserve officers of the Army. At the same time some assistance was given to their parents or families. A large share of each man's monthly earnings was automatically sent home to his parents or other dependents.
That was the setup explained to me in the recruiting office in Glasgow that day in mid-July, 1938. I was tired and discouraged after looking for any kind of employment, and the offer looked very good. Also, when I learned that the camp for which they were recruiting was in Glacier National Park, where we had just been touring in June, I knew it would be good for me. Who could ask for anything better? I signed up!
That was how I came to be on a train the very next day, with a dozen or so other young fellows from Valley County, heading for Glacier Park. We were instructed to take a minimum of clothing and other gear, as all the necessities would be provided for us at the camp. I took my beloved Argus camera, and some writing materials, so I could write home; that was about all. We got off the train in the late afternoon at East Glacier, a beautiful spot. We were met by a young man in army clothing, who herded us into a big Army truck. Soon we were off for our camp some fifty miles away, on Lake Saint Mary's, in the Park.
It was a long, slow ride to our camp, as the truck had a mechanical governor that limited our maximum speed to thirty-five miles per hour, except downhill. That was one feature of CCC life that none of us liked! That slow truck was our only means of transportation in the area.
We arrived at camp, ate a hearty supper, and then were assigned to tents. With only a few exceptions, all the men slept in large six-man Army Sibley tents. Our beds were simple Army metal cots, with firm mattresses, army blankets, sheets, and pillows. I was lucky, and was given a bed in a corner of the tent to which I was assigned. Next morning, after being routed out at an early hour, given breakfast, and told to clean ourselves up for the day, the whole camp assembled out on the open ground south of the camp. It was a gorgeous morning. South of us about a half mile was lovely St. Mary's Lake, with high mountains rising beyond it, and heavy timber and more mountains behind us, to the north. The Going to the Sun highway ran between us and the lake. It was great to be there in the midst of such beauty.
I soon learned that we were not the only new recruits. About half the men were fellows who had been there for some time; the rest of us were brand new recruits, many from Idaho. The whole company came from Montana and Idaho, though our officers came from outside that area. The officers were introduced--our Commanding Officer was First Lieutenant Henry M. Garretson, Field Artillery Reserve, from Oregon. His assistant, or Adjutant, was Second Lieutenant Lord, from Boston or somewhere back east. Our Camp Superintendent, Mr. Sullivan, was employed by the National Park Service, to supervise the working crews. He had several men under him who acted as foremen of the various crews. Our First Sergeant was a man about thirty years of age, Virgil Carney, from Kalispell. He was to become a very good friend to me and to many of the fellows. Later we would meet our contract surgeon, Dr. Graybill, and Bill Bolger, the food manager.
Lt. Garretson gave us a brief explanation of the camp organization and camp rules. Then he asked if any of the new recruits could type! I raised my hand, and found that from that moment I had a very special and privileged job-- that of Company Clerk. I was to work in the office with the officers and the radio operator, if I could do the work. The former clerk had left recently; his enrollment period had expired. As I soon learned, the clerical work had stacked up ever since the clerk had left. I was pretty busy for a few weeks, learning all the procedures,and working through the backlog of work.
After I had learned how to handle the paper work, though, it was really a soft job, and I had lots of free time. On the other hand, I was on call all hours of the day and night, and on week-ends, if something came up in my area of the work. Wonder of wonders, I was promoted to Assistant Leader that very day, with my salary increased from $30 to $36 per month! Of course, $30 of that went home to my parents. I had to get along on the remaining $6, which was really enough--if I didn't eat too many chocolate bars or spend my money for other things!
I had an old Underwood typewriter assigned to me, and a whole battery of wooden file cabinets. All the excellent typing training in my senior year in high school really paid off! Our commanding officer, Lt. Garretson, was also very new on the job. We got along just fine. He told me a lot about the army, the reserve corps, and so on, and I think that right from that time I determined that someday I might be an Army officer.
But all that came later. That same morning we all went to the supply room, where the supply sergeant issued us our clothing, all army issue stuff, underwear, socks, shoes, the works. We had regular army khakies for outer wear during the summer months, and woolen O.D.'s in the winter months.
After receiving our clothing, and getting into our new outfits, we new recruits were all herded to the first aid building, a barrack-like affair, on the northern edge of camp. Just as in the army, we were all to have inoculations. I don't recall now just what they were, but we each received two that day, I remember.
The officers and the first sergeant together trained us in the army rigamorole of Reveille in the morning, Retreat in the evening, raising and lowering the flag each day, and mess calls. It was interesting, though it seemed somewhat silly to some of us. We learned a minimum of drill, how to stand in fairly straight lines, keep still in ranks, how to put our hats on straight, and how to make our beds army style, and keep our foot lockers neat. We had regular inspection every Saturday morning, and woe be to the fellow who didn't have his area in the tent neat! We didn't have to salute anyone, or address the officers as "sir," as in the army. But we did learn respectful speaking to the officers. Also, we had rules similar to the army regarding leaves, absence without leave, hearings (in place of courts martial), and discharges.
Back to the office! I had plenty of work to do most mornings. The Commanding Officer or the adjutant usually had a letter or two to be typed and mailed. Every change in each enrollee's situation had to be posted to the records--promotions (and demotions, which weren't common), changes in their allotments, changes of address of their parents, completion of certain training or education courses, and so on. Also, the First Sergeant had the Morning Report each day, to be typed, and signed by him and the Commanding Officer. Part of my job was to sort the mail, on the two or three days a week we sent in a truck for it, and deliver it to the fellows at Mail Call. That was usually done at the supper hour, or Retreat, when the flag was lowered. I also sometimes helped Bill Bolger, the food manager, calculate the amounts of food items he needed to feed us all, and plan the work schedule for the cooks. The food was nearly always very good, though simple, with lots of macaroni dishes, bread, and little meat. I kept the pay records for the men, and at the end of the month helped the commanding officer make the payments, in cash, to the men. Though that sounds like a lot of work, after I had learned the routine, it wasn't difficult. I think it was at this time that I began to see the advantages of having a job where others depended on me. My previous working experience, on the wheat allotment program with George Nelson when I was in high school, and my part-time jobs in college, had made me responsible for a variety of things. Now my job in the CCC camp made me feel very responsible. The Commanding Officer and a number of other people truly depended on me to get my job done, and done right. There was great satisfaction in that, not that I was a big shot, please understand, but that I knew that my being there was important to others.
Very soon after joining the CCC's, I became good friends with several of the young chaps in camp. Kenneth Wade was the First Aid assistant to our contract surgeon, Dr. Graybill. Wade was a very hard-working, competent man, who was planning to become a doctor some day. Another very pleasant young man was Johnny Beam, the clerk for Mr. Sullivan, the Camp superintendent. The three of us often ate together, and visited each other's offices on any excuse. Those were fairly quiet days for all three; we weren't very busy, the weather was nice, and we enjoyed talking to each other. Later, in the winter, we often skiied together.
The other fellows in camp, apart from the cooks, were working on a very special project that summer and fall. They were laying an under-ground telephone cable across the Park, following Going-to-the-Sun Highway over the contintental divide most of the way. Until that time, the Park Service had used only a surface telephone line that ran around the south end of the Park. The work was not dangerous, and before we moved out of our tent camp that fall, the line across the Park was in place and operational. That is a good example of the useful things done by CCC crews.
Our camp radio operator, Johnny Tharp, came from Idaho. He had his office, or radio room, in the corner of the large main office in which I worked, and the officers had their desks. Johnny was very knowledgeable in radio operation, and was constantly trying to improve the equipment he worked with. He had daily short wave radio contact in Morse code, with Fort Missoula, Montana, about two hundred miles away. Also he made regular scheduled calls to the Presidio of San Francisco, an old army base that was then used as the western headquarters for the Civilian Conservation Corps.
I often go to the radio room in the evening hours when Johnny was using the set to talk to people many hundreds of miles away. I thought then, and still think, that radio (and all sorts of electronic wireless transmission) are wonderful possibilities provided by a thoughtful Creator! One morning the company commander announced to me that he and I were going down to Fort Missoula that evening, and that I should prepare to stay over night there. We left, just the two of us, right after supper. Our route took us across the Park on the Going-to-the-Sun Highway, and then south along the west side of Flathead Lake. We arrived at Missoula late in the night. Lt. Garretson was in high spirits. There was little traffic, and he drove like a madman, sometimes skidding around the sharp curves near the top of the pass. Lt. Garretson told me he liked to drive at night, because you could see the lights of oncoming traffic while yet a long way off, and be prepared. We arrived at the Fort, were assigned beds, and slept well. I don't recall much of that visit, except that I was given some training in various record-keeping duties.
One day late in the summer, two of the young men decided that they would take a raft across Saint Mary's Lake, and escape from camp. Wind and waves were against them, though, and they were seen as they tried to escape. With the help of some Park Rangers, they were caught, taken off their little raft, and brought back to our camp. Then we had endless paper work to do--accusations or charges to be drawn up, accusing them of trying to desert. Every paper was typed in five or six copies; this was in the days before copiers. The Commanding Officer conducted a formal hearing, to examine witnesses who told of hearing the two make plans for escape. The whole thing ended with some fines levied, but no real punishment--at least not what I thought they deserved for having made so much work for me!
Fall, and snow, came in September. First it was just mighty chilly getting up in the morning. We soon worked out a schedule in our six-man tent, agreeing that whoever got up first would fire up the little tin stove. We prepared the kindling and little sticks for firewood the evening before, when we went to bed.
Where would we for the winter? Obviously, we couldn't stay in those tents, because of the cold and heavy snow that would surely come. Finally we were scheduled to move to the west side of the Park, to a camp just a couple of miles out of Belton, the western entrance to the Park. There a new camp was being prepared just for us. There were two other CCC camps nearby, too, so we would have plenty of company. We learned, after we had moved, that those two camps were occupied by young fellows from New York, New Jersey, the Bronx, and other big city places.
It was early in October that we finally received word to make our move. Extra trucks from the west side came to the camp one evening. The next morning it was cold and snowy, with six inches of snow on the ground and more coming down. We loaded up and started on the long drive around the south end of the Park, to our new camp. (Going to the Sun Highway had been closed for several weeks due to snow.) It was a long, unpleasant trip. We on benches in the back of those canvas-covered trucks. Each truck had a big tarp hung over the rear opening to keep out the snow, and the fumes from the exhaust, but several fellows became pretty sick before the drive was completed.
We arrived in plenty of time to get settled into our new quarters. The office was smaller than the one we had on the east side, so the radio room was located in another building. The long barracks-type building had the office at the west end, then a nice private little bedroom for me (rank has its privileges-- and responsibilities!), then the fairly large supply room, and on the east end the canteen and recreation room, complete with a pool table, and a table tennis table and equipment. It was like paradise!
A modest pot-bellied wood stove provided heat for the office and my bedroom. I immediately acquired a new duty because I lived right next to the office. I was to build the fire in the stove each morning, if heat was needed, and keep the stove operating all day. The weather wasn't terribly cold, though we had lots of snow, and I burned a huge quantity of wood in that stove that winter. Luckily for me, I didn't have to split or bring in the wood; someone else took care of that.
The office was bright and cheerful, with two big windows looking out, one to the south, and one to the west, with a fine view of Mount Apgar about a couple of miles west of the camp. There was no water piped into our building, though, so I had to go next door to a regular barracks to wash up and use the bathroom. Altogether, though, we were very comfortable.
The mess hall, where we ate our meals, was located across the parade ground west of the office. The parade ground had a tall flag pole set in the middle. There we held our morning and evening flag raisings and lowerings, when the weather allowed that. There were about six of the long barracks buildings, mostly for the men to sleep in. The one farthest north housed the first aid room and infirmary, and the contract surgeon's office.
That was an interesting winter. The snow came, day after day, until there was a blanket five or six feet deep over everything. Every few days the men went up on the roofs of the buildings, to shovel off the snow. We could scarcely see the mess hall from the office. Paths were dug from each barracks to the mess hall. The men could walk across in those paths, without being visible to anyone not in that particular path. Huge snow blowers mounted on trucks kept the road to Belton open, so our mail and food supplies kept coming in regularly. Some of us obtained permission occasionally, to walk in to town, to see what, if anything, was going on there--usually nothing.
Just before Christmas we had a rush of business in the office, issuing passes so the fellows could go home for Christmas. Many of us left, as we had been saving our money for that purpose. I think the ticket was only five dollars or about that, for a round trip from the Park clear to Glasgow. I had a good Christmas, but truly was happy to be going back to my job. I was really proud of my place in the camp, and probably thought things wouldn't go well without me! During those winter months I kept busy in my spare time taking a correspondence course in photography. The course involved taking many black and white pictures, and doing some dark-room work there at the camp. The little Argus camera my sister Jean had given me for graduation from Northern Montana College was different from any other cameras in the camp. I didn't have any flash equipment, but could take time exposures. In fact, I even took one such shot of the moon, on Lake Saint Mary's, before we moved to the westside.
I also had enough time to get well acquainted with our contract surgeon. He liked to get out in the woods, and together we made many a ski trip in the nearby area. Once we went to inspect a "moose yard" that the men working in the woods had reported. Sure enough, there were several moose wintering there in a little grove of red cedars. The snow was deep, and we could ski around on the deep snow, looking at the moose. One tough old bull made some threatening motions toward us, one day, and we decided maybe we should leave them alone after that.
On another occasion, in the spring, Doc took me for a ride on the highway up past Lake McDonald, to look at the deer that were wintering along the lake. I have never seen a more pitiful sight. Many deer were just skin and bones. They had browsed off all the foliage from the trees, as high as they could reach standing up on their hind legs. A great many had already died, and their carcasses were scattered along the lake edge. I got some pictures, but it was very depressing. The deer population in the Park was far too great for the available food supply. I loved to see wild animals, and still do, but that was just plain sickening. It convinced me of the need for regular hunting (even in the National Parks) to keep the wildlife populations at reasonable levels.
One day when some of us just happened to be watching, a huge snow slide, or avalanche, roared down the side of Mount Apgar to the west of us. The slide raised a big cloud of snow crystals, so that we couldn't see exactly what was happening, except that it appeared the whole side of the mountain was in motion. After the "dust" settled, some of us took skiis, and went over there. It was amazing what that slide had done! Big pine trees, up to two feet in diameter, had been cut off as if by a big mower. Trees were standing on their heads, as it were, stuck in the deep snow at the foot of the mountain. It was an amazing thing to see, and made me glad that none of us had been in the way of the slide.
Spring came at last, and with it further changes. Our company was to move again--just a mile or so, this time, to a vacant camp nearer Belton. We moved before the snow was all gone. Again I had a decent private room, and we had a nice big office. Immediately behind the camp was the Middle Fork of the Flathead River, a fine brawling stream, icy cold all year. Now, too, we had a public address system of sorts, including a phonograph with which we could "broadcast" records all around camp.
Many of us found out that the river had big char, or bull trout, running up the river to spawn there in the early spring. I don't think any of us had any kind of waders--we just waded out in our CCC boots, and stayed there as long as we could stand it. Our feet would be numb with the cold, and almost purple in color after only a half hour or so in that cold water. But several of us caught nice fish in that river.
We also used the PA system to play the bugle calls. That was a new duty given to me. I liked it, as it allowed me to avoid taking an outdoor part in the various ceremonies when the men had to stand in line for the raising or lowering of the flag. I would play the proper call, at the appropriate time, and stay inside watching the progress of the drill. I did learn how to properly fold a flag, and how to raise it.
As soon as the weather dried up a bit, our woods crews were assigned fire-fighting duty. That meant they hung around camp most of the time, between fires. But when a big fire took place, they might be gone several days. Then the cooks had to prepare food and take it to the fire, provide water, and so on. The first aid man had to stay at the fire, also, to take care of any injuries. It turned out to be a pretty busy summer.
With the money I had saved and sent home, my debt to the Demolay organization was paid. I could begin to think again about getting back to college. I had never lost sight of that goal! So I began to write to schools, hoping to find a school that would give me a scholarship,or a guarantee of work to help pay expenses.
During that year in the CCC's, I had kept in touch with my old friend Alvin Mundhenk. I knew that he had gone to a Baptist College out in Oregon, but didn't know any details. Imagine my surprise, when one day I received a beautiful letter from Linfield College, in McMinnville, Oregon, offering me a scholarship! They also assured me I could work to earn my way while in school!
It was all due to Al's influence--he had persuaded the administration that I was truly a good student, and the type they should encourage. It didn't take me long to accept their offer, and to begin to make plans to go there. That was about the middle of August, if I remember correctly. At least I knew I could be back in school that fall; I was very, very happy. So happy I sent off to some mail order store for a new pair of shoes, and a raincoat, that I thought I would need in Oregon.
There was one other major event in store for all of us that summer. One day while Johnny Tharp was listening to his short-wave radio, he came running down the street, yelling something about war! He told us that he had picked up a report that Germany had invaded Poland that very day! Of course, we were all very excited, though it seemed to us that it was really nothing to concern us. That was the beginning of the terrible World War II, in which I would surely get involved later! It was the first of September, 1939, when we learned about that invasion that started the war.
Two weeks later I was really on pins and needles! My new clothes had come, and all the arrangements made for my leaving on the train for Linfield College. I had everything packed, ready to go. My discharge, that I had typed, was on the Commanding Officer's desk, ready for his signature. But he wasn't there--he and the adjutant were away on a trip,and wouldn't be back for several days! What would you do, if you were in that situation? I fumed and fretted, and then with advice from some of the others there, decided what must be done: I signed my own discharge! I had often been authorized to sign the Commanding Officer's name on correspondence, so didn't feel too bad about doing this. I left a note for him, explaining what I had done, and mailed the necessary papers off to Fort Missoula. So ended my year in the CCC’s!