More College Studies

MORE COLLEGE STUDIES
Going on with my story of returning to college, I now learned that the University required extended study in a foreign language for graduation. I had forgotten most of the German that I had studied at Linfield College years before, so decided to study Spanish. I really enjoyed that course, though I have never used what I learned of the language. I found that I had a knack for learning another language. Several years later I applied some of the techniques of learning Spanish to learning Greek and Hebrew.
Living in that crowded gym "dormitory" was hectic. The only good thing I can remember about it was watching part of a football game from our windows. It was snowing out, that afternoon, a regular blizzard, and I was glad to see parts of the game from a warm lookout. At times the snow was coming down so heavily we couldn't see the players! After about two weeks there, another chap and I found a room in the basement of a nearby private home,and lived there until I could rent an apartment.
My classes were interesting, and the teachers excellent. I found the studies fairly easy, though much reading was required, both from text books and in the University library. I had learned how to extract the main thoughts in reading, and took copious notes both in class lectures, and in my reading.
Soon after school began, the deer hunting season opened. I had done a little searching around in the area north of Missoula, and had a place located where I could hunt. I bought a box of shells, and began to spend my spare time on Saturdays and Sundays hunting. I went out alone, taking a simple lunch with me. I knew absolutely nothing about deer hunting, but was thrilled to be out in the woods. I saw lots of tracks, but never a deer.
Then one Saturday my roommate (I can't recall his name) went with me. He borrowed a single shot 20 gauge shotgun and some slug shells. We had a good morning, following the tracks of a big buck in the new snow. Finally, about noon, we sat down in a sunny clearing to eat the lunches we had brought with us. Here and there in the clearing there were clumps of low bushes. We leaned the guns against a little tree a few feet away, brushed the snow off a log, and began to eat.
After maybe twenty minutes of slow conversation and eating, we were startled out of our wits by the eruption of a huge buck deer out of the low bushes right in front of us! He had been lying there the whole time. Apparently his nerves finally gave out, and he thought he must escape. He had been lying within thirty feet of us! Of course we both jumped up, and scrambled to reach our guns, but by the time we had done that he was out of sight. We didn't get a shot, or see another deer that day. We did learn something--deer can hide in almost no cover, and be very hard to see. That was a typical hunting day for me--lots of exercise and fresh air, but no venison! Though I hunted several times that fall, I never had a chance at a deer.
The university had a huge enrollment that fall, many of the men being veterans returning to get an education. The women students, in general, were much younger, not having served in the military. I went to a couple of "mixer" parties on the campus, but didn't get acquainted with many students. I was older, a senior, and didn't seem to fit in too well with the younger crowd. Finally, in early November, the school announced that they had an apartment ready for Jane and me. I couldn't leave school to make the move until Thanksgiving. Driving to Glasgow, I had a narrow escape from having a very serious accident. Long after dark, I was driving between Fort Benton and Big Sandy. The road was very icy in spots, though there wasn't much traffic. Going down a long grade, I came up behind a big semi outfit, and decided that since the road ahead was clear, I could pass. I pulled out, and just when accelerating and moving back to my lane in front of the truck, hit a patch of ice. The little Ford skidded clear around, a 360-degree spin, right in front of that big rig! At one point I was facing directly toward him. Very fortunately for me, we turned on around, and went on down the road safely. I was so frightened by that I decided to stay over night in Havre, and drive on to Glasgow in the morning, Thanksgiving Day. After a good Thanksgiving visit with my parents, we had our household goods shipped to Missoula, and Jane, our little son David and I drove back together in the little Ford. As we did so often in the next few years, we stopped over night at Jean and Wayne's, and had a little visit with them. The weather was decent, so we didn't get too cold while driving.
Our apartment was one of several in a long barracks building, moved from old Fort Missoula to the golf course owned by the University. An extensive village of these buildings was laid out, with named streets, and even some street lights. I can't remember our house number. We had a pot-bellied stove for heating the place, and a wood-burning kitchen range for cooking. I bought an axe, and a load of slab lumber from a nearby mill. I split and chopped a lot of wood that winter. I still have that Montgomery Ward axe, though I have had to replace the handle many times. We also burned some coal, to keep a fire going overnight in the heater, during the coldest weather.
My studies seemed very easy, and I was able to earn straight "A's" that first year. My courses were in advanced economics and sociology, designed for seniors or graduate students. We made friends with our neighbors up and down the street, and found our living there quite comfortable. Jane did have some trouble with laundry, though. We took the clothes to a laundry facility there in the village, and brought them back wet to hang outdoors to dry. David was going through a lot of diapers, and we had two or three lines full every week. In the cold, hanging out those wet diapers was a chilly business! By the time one had a diaper pinned to the line it would be frozen hard, stiff as a thin board. Of course in the dry climate they dried quickly, and then could be folded. Nothing smells better than clean clothes dried out of doors, but it was hard on the hands! Disposable diapers hadn't been invented, though we couldn't have afforded to buy them if they had been available.
During Christmas vacation, a neighboy and friend, Abe Cole, an Air Force veteran who had spent much of the war flying over the "Hump" (the Himalayas between India and China), found work for both of us. We went to work for a small private lumber operator who had bought a big stand of trees in the national forest about twenty miles out of Missoula. That was an interesting experience. We left early each morning, and rode out to the cutting camp with the boss. There we spent the first couple of hours heating water and trying to get their big Caterpillar tractor started. The weather was very nippy, and the machine was hard to start. When that was accomplished, we piled on the "cat" and rode up into the hills where the logs which had been cut the day before were ready to bring down.
Abe and I had the task of pulling the steel cable off the winch, moving up the steep slopes through snow sometimes up to our waists, to reach logs on the slopes above. There we passed the cable around a log, secured it, and then the cat operator pulled the log back down the slope. We had to step lively to keep out of the way! Then it was slip and slide down the hill, grab that cable again, and take it back up the hill for another log. Two men were employed as tree cutters, and were busy cutting more trees as we took out the logs from the previous day's cutting. It was hard work, but we both enjoyed it. Our sack lunches, eaten in the little cabin occupied by the cutters, tasted mighty good!
In the afternoon, when we had brought down enough logs for loading, we spent the time sawing up the logs into sixteen to twenty foot lengths, and moving them with peavies down to the loading ramp. An old man who had worked in the same area when it was first cut over, about 1900, trimmed the limbs from the logs. He could make a cut with his double-bitted axe almost as smooth as one could with a saw. That old fellow had known logging with horses, and showed us some of the grooves cut on the slopes where teams had pulled huge logs down the hill at a gallop.
Abe and I used a big cross cut saw to cut the logs into lengths. Chain saws were unknown then, or at least not known with that outfit. Late in the afternoon we rode back to Missoula and home for a night's rest. Altogether we worked twelve or fifteen days at that job, before classes resumed. The earnings were helpful, too.
Jane quickly mastered cooking on the big iron range. She was particularly good at making cinnamon rolls, big juicy ones. Somehow every time she produced a big pan of those rolls, many of our friends would just happen to drop in at the right moment!
We had an interesting time with David that first winter. Of course he was crawling all over the place, and always getting into things he shouldn't. One of his favorite tricks was to eat coal, and to chew on the heads of burned matches tossed in the coal bucket! We often took him out on the slopes of Mount Sentinel, just a couple of blocks from our apartment, to coast. He loved being out of doors. We had to take him to a clinic for the usual baby shots, which he didn't appreciate at all. After a couple of trips there he had memorized the route and the location of the clinic office, and would begin to cry long before we arrived at the doctor's office, anticipating another shot or other unpleasant happening.
We made many good friends, both neighbors and students and their wives. By coincidence, one of the girls I had known in Havre years before had married a student who was in my classes, and we visited back and forth with them. Sometimes we would have dessert and coffee after an hour of visiting or playing games. Once Jane made an excellent pie--a lemon meringue, if I remember right--which she served after a big meal shared with these friends, the Athearns. We think that they may have felt that we fed them a bit heavily. The next time we were at their place, Helen served us huge pieces of pecan pie, so rich it was almost impossible to eat it all! We often laughed about that later. Jim went on to earn a doctorate in history, and taught for years at the University of Florida.
Several of the young wives of students in the housing project were pregnant. Somehow we gained the reputation of being able to help them bring the birth of their babies to pass! We simply fed them some good homemade chili and a lot of Coca Cola. They would go home, and then to the hospital!
Sometime in the spring of the year we were allowed to move to a larger apartment, one with three bedrooms, only a few doors from where we had lived before. That apartment was on Carbon Street. Our back door opened out on the former golf course, and provided a much better place for David to play. We made a little sand box and brought in some sand for him. The little sons of a nearby neighbor often played there with him.
Somehow the complexities of economics came easily to me. Before mid-term and final exams I sometimes spent time with groups of the other students, reviewing my abundant notes, and helping them understand the theories. I enjoyed that teaching experience. Along in the spring term Dr. Ely, the head of the economics department, told me I was having too easy a time, and gave me extra assignments, mostly short papers, to do if I wanted to earn "A's." Also I learned that I would be eligible to graduate with honors (cum laude) if I would do a thesis on some subject. I had just begun to read extensively in the whole field of Communist literature, to try to understand their thinking--not that I was wanting to become involved in that system. I didn't want to stop that reading program, so declined the honors thesis. That was another choice which might have made my life different if I had gone the other route!
In the spring or early summer of 1947, the Farmers Union of Montana held a big convention on the campus. I attended some of their sessions, because I was interested in the overall labor union movement. At one of the meetings I bumped into Marion Hellstern, one of the sons of the farmer for whom I had worked back in the '30's. Naturally I invited him out to the apartment, where we had a good supper and a pleasant visit. He was a delegate from Hinsdale, and told me many things about the work of the Farmers Union, and passed on community news from Hinsdale. I thought nothing of that visit until a few days later when Dr. Ely called me in to his office. There he asked me very seriously what in the world I was doing, visiting with one of the most radical communists in Montana! I told him we simply were old friends, and that we had worked many hours together in hay and beet fields. He then told me that Marion and his mother were apparently well-known locally as communists! I had never discussed that philosophy with Marion, so was surprised.
In my Spanish class that summer we were beginning to apply what we had learned. We read Spanish novels, short stories, and newspapers. Most of the class hour we used only Spanish in our conversation. I didn't do so well in that course, which completed my minor in Spanish. My grade was only a "B." I think that was the only grade lower than an "A" that I received at Montana State University.
I was scheduled to be graduated at the end of the summer quarter, in 1947. Just before graduation I received orders as a reserve officer to report to the Air Force Base at Ogden, Utah, for two weeks of training! That made it necessary for me to miss the graduation exercises. I wasn't really seriously disappointed to miss the to-do of graduation, and quickly received approval for my absence. I received my diploma later.
The tour of active duty was a farce, as they had no planned training for me at Ogden AFB. I spent most of my time there wandering around, shooting skeet and pool, and generally killing time. Oh, I worked a little in the big civilian personnel office, but didn't learn much. I was happy to return to Missoula, again by train. Enroute I was sitting in the club car one morning, reading. I became aware that the two women seated near me were speaking in Spanish! I thought I had an opportunity to try my Spanish! I carefully introduced myself, in that language, and learned that they were from Cuba, a mother and her daughter. As we travelled along, I pointed out to them the huge smokestack at Anaconda, Montana, and told them in my halting Spanish that it was the tallest in the whole world ("mas alta del mundo.") I think they laughed at me the whole time, as I found I really couldn't speak Spanish well at all. I frequently had to ask them to repeat things they said. It was an embarrassing situation all around!
Early that summer, I took the Graduate Record exams, to qualify for entrance into graduate study. I planned to go on to earn a master's in personnel administration. I achieved a high score, and almost at once had offers of graduate assistantships--one from Cornell University, in upstate New York, and the other from Stanford, in California. I thought long and hard about the Cornell offer, and would have loved to go there. However, our funds were running low, and we couldn't see how we could afford to move all that distance. As I remember, the thought of borrowing money for the purpose never entered my mind.Then, as now, I hated to go into debt.
Then Dr. Ely and some others at the University said they wanted me to stay right there, as a graduate assistant in economics. They would work out a special master's program in personnel administration for me. I would assist Dr. Ely in teaching economics, and could earn $700 and my tuition for the first year. That sounded good to me, so we simply stayed on.
Also during that summer I had worked my way further into the exciting field of shooting. I purchased bullet casting tools and materials, and began to make my own bullets for reloading shells for the 30'06 rifle. I ordered a fine walnut stock blank, and carved out a new stock for the rifle. That project turned out very well, and the rifle was now a fine-looking weapon. I know now that I spent far too much time and money, indulging in my new hobby. Jane surely demonstrated great patience, putting up with my melting lead on the kitchen range, casting bullets, etc.
Through the National Rifle Association I also purchased two more surplus military rifles, both 30'06's, though I really had no need for them. The first one was an Enfield, made in England during World War I, brand new, never fired. I reworked the military stock, and had a second good shooting rifle. Then I ordered a Springfield rifle. That one was also new and unfired, and cost me only $5, plus shipping! I used the Enfield a little, but traded off the Springfield without ever having fired it. Often in the years since I have wished that I had held on to both rifles.
September came, and I started on my new course of study. Things went quite well. I took all the courses offered at the University in personnel administration, and earned some additional credits in self-designed courses of reading. I reported my reading and conclusions in papers presented to the Economics staff.
My main task as graduate assistant was to conduct classes for two beginning economics "sections," two days per week. I met with the "sections," each of about 30 students, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, an hour each time, to discuss the subject matter of the most recent lecture, or some important point from the textbooks. Preparation and lesson planning was not difficult, and I enjoyed the free-flowing discussions we had on economic theory. On a couple of occasions Dr. Ely assigned me to prepare the lecture for the entire class of about 500 students. I wasn't a very good lecturer, I am sure, but the students didn't totally reject my ideas. Economics was then a required course for virtually every student at the University.
As part of my studies in personnel administration, I learned to give and interpret a variety of tests, general intelligence, aptitude, etc.--even ink blots! I found willing subjects among my economics students; one girl, in particular, was extremely intelligent. Her intelligence test scores (I tested her twice) literally ran off the upper end of the scale! I did have one serious problem. Among my students, I had a couple of real dummies--football players. When the fall quarter mid-term test was graded (I did lots of grading!) they had both failed badly. I had tried to tutor them, but they didn't want to learn. As a result, I flunked them both, and they were forced to drop out of football.
Boy, did I find myself in hot water! I had personal conferences with the football coach, other players, friends of the two, and others. Dr. Ely upheld my decision on the matter. With some additional tutoring, the fellows got their grades up to "C's" and were eligible to return to football, though I doubt that they ever forgave me! Other than that unpleasantness, I enjoyed teaching, or trying to teach, and got along fine with my courses.
I chose to do my master's thesis on a fairly complex subject--the influence of union activities in adjacent unionized cities on the wage scales in Missoula, which was almost entirely non-unionized. I did my research through the mail, and in the library, on wage scales for union jobs of many kinds in Spokane, Washington, and in Butte and Great Falls, Montana. Those cities were all highly unionized. I found and gathered much interesting data, and learned a lot about the history of attempts to unionize the railroad and timber workers in Missoula. I concluded that the workers in the various blue collar industries in Missoula had actually benefited greatly from the efforts of the unions in the adjoining cities, without forming a union.
Toward the end of the winter quarter, in the spring of 1948, we had spent nearly all of our savings. I felt it was necessary to leave school, and go to work again. My decision was based in part on the several job offers which kept coming in. I had taken a federal "entrance" exam for entrance level positions in professional fields, during the winter months (1947-1948). Again, I had achieved a good score, and my name was apparently offered to many different agencies around the United States. One inquiry, which I considered seriously, was to become a Boy Scout Executive, with the National Boy Scout organization. It sounded like interesting work, but would have required another term of expensive schooling back east, which we felt we couldn't afford. I remember another offer from some government agency in Nebraska, inviting me to become a caseworker.
A third offer came from the Bureau of Reclamation in Billings, in the Yellowstone District personnel office. I could take an entrance level position in personnel administration, with good opportunities for advancement, they said. I decided to take that one, and we moved to Billings at the end of the winter quarter, in late March of 1948. I'm sorry to say that I never did complete that master's program in personnel administration, and all my collected data on the Missoula wage situation went for nothing. But I did learn something about wage scales, and used that knowledge later, as I worked in the Bureau office, setting up wage scales for our blue-color employees. My school days were over for good--or so I thought. Theoretically I was now equipped to settle down to a career. It didn't work out that way, but that is a different matter, suitable for some later chapter.

BACK TO CIVILIAN LIFE AND COLLEGE
With orders in my pocket relieving me from active duty, we were ready to return to Montana and home. The Air Corps Depot crew came to our little apartment and took care of crating and shipping our scant accumulation of household goods. When they were gone, one morning we dusted the cinders and soot off Mabel, our little car. We loaded our suitcases, clothing, some very minor items of food and personal effects, and were off. That was about the 18th of January, 1946. We were excited at the prospect of leaving Chicago. Although the work in the depot had been interesting, we didn't really like the cold, the dampness, the constant wind, and the dirt and grime of Chicago. Also I was very happy to be leaving the military organization! It is difficult for me to recall or describe how I felt then about my war service. I felt that I had worked hard, and done my best. I was then and since a little regretful that I didn't serve overseas. Apart from that, I know that my experience in the Air Corps had a lot to do with my way of facing life, work, and social relationships. It was better training than I could have obtained in any other way.
We made a late start, and didn't drive far that first day. The weather was cold and threatening. We headed northwest, passing through Madison, Wisconsin late in the afternoon. Though the car, with its canvas top and many open cracks around the windows, admitted a lot of cold, fresh air, we weren't too uncomfortable.
We pulled into Black River Falls, Wisconsin, soon after dark. We had no idea where to spend the night, but noticed a sign in the front yard of a private home. "Bed and Breakfast," it said. We stopped, and found it a fine place to stay. The people who lived there were very friendly, and showed us to a nice, warm room. They made us feel right at home, especially after the lady learned that Jane was pregnant. We slept well and had a good breakfast and visit with them.
That next morning was sharp with frost. Mabel the car started without trouble, and we continued our travels, on toward the northwest. We passed St. Paul in the afternoon, and drove on, planning to stay overnight in St. Cloud, Minnesota. However, when we arrived in St. Cloud we found every hotel and motel along the highway full. We decided to drive on, hoping to find a town less crowded.
Finally we came to a little town, and rented a room above a little restaurant and drug store. It was neither hotel nor motel, but was all we could find. The night was very cold and crisp--a good night to be indoors. When we went to the cafe downstairs to eat, we learned that the town was hosting an area basketball tournament. Later that evening, the place below us was packed with youngsters until late hours. It wasn't easy to sleep! We didn't complain, though; we were glad to have a safe, warm room!
Our third day on the road was uneventful. We made it to Bismarck, North Dakota, the state capitol. We found a warm, snug little motel in the valley, and stayed there for the night. The weather was cold, but we had a comfortable rest.
Then we came to our day of testing! Early the next morning, about six o'clock, I stuck my nose out of the motel door to check the weather. It appeared to be a quiet, peaceful morning, though cold. I couldn't see the sky clearly, so didn't know whether it was cloudy. At least there was no snow falling. We agreed that we should drive on to Minot, about one hundred and fifty miles away. We planned to stop for breakfast somewhere on the road.
It was still very dark as we drove through Bismarck, turned right on the highway north, and climbed the hill past the state capitol building. Soon we were a few miles out on the open highway and found ourselves in a blizzard! Now there was plenty snow falling, and it was drifting, too. A strong northwest wind, often meeting us head on, was building big drifts across the road. I was too young and foolish to turn back, though that was the obvious wise choice.
Now we found how truly inadequate the little roadster was in severe weather. Snow came sifting in through any openings it could find. It came in around the accelerator, brake and clutch pedals, and made little drifts on the floor. It came in around the windows, too. Jane wrapped herself in a wool army blanket, and soon looked like a white cocoon.
I wasn't as well protected. I was wearing low rubbers over my army dress shoes, and my feet were freezing! We had the heater running full blast, but that made little difference. We knew we must find some way to keep warmer, but there seemed nothing to do but keep on driving. Luckily for us, there was no traffic on the road. No one passed us, and we met no other cars for miles and miles. I think the hardy natives of North Dakota knew better than to be on the road in such weather!
About 10AM, we stopped in a tiny town. We ate breakfast in a cafe, and inquired where we might find overshoes to protect my feet. There were only a couple of small stores, but we did find and buy a pair of tall overshoes. Oh, they felt good on my feet! By that time the snowing had stopped, and the sky was clearing. It was still miserably cold, and the wind was as strong as ever.
It still makes me shiver as I recall that morning! We arrived in Minot early in the afternoon, and stopped at a cafe for a late lunch. We learned that the temperature stood at -17 degrees, and the wind was clocked at about 20 miles per hour. I have no idea what the "chill factor" was--they didn't use that term in those days. Worse still, the highway on west was reported closed!
We had about decided to stay in Minot over night, when a big highway truck with snow plow went by, heading west on Highway 2. Despite warnings from the cafe people, we headed out again! We had already gassed the car, so were ready to try it again. We followed that snow plow for many miles.
All went well until we were about ten miles east of Williston, ND. There the car engine suddenly went dead! I tried and tried, but it simply would not start. We could see the town of Williston in the distance. Between us and the town was a long, straight down grade. We did the only thing we could--we pushed Mabel out into the road, and coasted down that hill. In fact, we coasted clear to a filling station on the outskirts of the town! The manager helped me push Mabel inside, and after a couple of hours, we could start again, all thawed out.
After buying gas from the friendly manager, we headed on toward Glasgow, Montana. We arrived there late in the evening, almost frozen, and very stiff from riding. The folks had been expecting us, and had the house well warmed, so we were soon warm, and well fed. The next morning Dad's old homestead thermometer said it was colder than forty degrees below zero! Minus forty degrees marked the end of the scale on the thermometer, and the mercury was farther down in the tube than that! Yet, when I tried to start the little Ford, it started right off. It was a good car, but not well suited for Montana's brisk weather.
I soon found that not having a job, and regular work, was boring. It seemed strange, not having any responsibilities. Four years in the army had left definite patterns imbedded in my thinking. I had to learn how to relax.
When the weather permitted, for those days in mid-winter were bitter cold, I sometimes walked out north of Glasgow, just hiking around. I took the .22 pistol along, of course. In the low hills I sometimes saw big white jack rabbits, and wanted to see if I could get one. Most shots offered were at fifty yards or more, and in the usual wind and cold, that was a very long shot with a .22 pistol. After wasting a few shells, I gave up on getting any rabbits with the pistol.
I laugh now as I think of one thing that happened one evening a few days after we arrived in Glasgow. Jane and I were walking in downtown Glasgow, window shopping. We met a man in navy uniform, also out walking. He recognized me, and I thought I recognized him. We had a little chat; he was getting out of the service, too. As we visited, I called him by his old nickname, "Mutt" and he called me by name, too. I thought he was "Mutt" Chester, from Hinsdale, a fellow I had known in high school. We parted then, and when we got back to my folks' place, I told Mom we had met Mutt Chester down town, just home from the navy. Well, she told me that she knew Mutt was in the air force, and still in England!
Who, then, was the mysterious fellow who wasn't Mutt? And why hadn't he corrected me when I called him by the wrong name? I have no idea. We never did find out who he was!
Another thing that may be of interest to you: silver coins were still in wide circulation in Montana in those days. One day I bought a small item, less than a dollar in value, and offered the clerk a $20 bill. My change included nineteen big silver dollars! You could get bills, but had to ask for them. Those dollars were very heavy in the pocket, and made a big bulge, too.
By about the 10th of February the weather let up a little, and I began to think of finding a job. I needed both the work and the money. Our plan was that I would get back to college in the fall. Our first child was due in mid-May, and that would cost a lot. We still had some savings, but not enough for the whole school year.
I learned from the employment office that the Bureau of Reclamation, at Fort Peck Dam, was looking for men. One day I drove out there, was interviewed, and hired immediately. I was to work on a survey party which was surveying a location line for a new power transmission line along the Yellowstone River. I was delighted, though I had never done any surveying. I rushed back to Glasgow, and invested in a pair of stout boots and some wool socks, and appropriate outdoor clothing. The weather was still very chilly.
I reported for work at Fort Peck about the middle of February. With some ten other fellows, we drove in two former army vehicles to the town of Glendive. There we found a place where we could all stay, in a private boarding house. It was not much different from a barracks, with many beds, too close together for privacy or comfort. We ate our breakfasts there, and then bought sack lunches at a restaurant. Our evening meals were purchased in restaurants, also.
We worked ten days straight, and then had four days off. That meant I was away from Jane for ten days at a time, and neither of us liked that. Some of the other men on the crew were in the same boat, with wives at Glasgow or Fort Peck. Jane stayed on at my folk's place for the moment.
I found my assignment a good one--I was lead chainman on the transit crew. All the other men were veterans. We spent many an hour sharing war stories, some pretty gruesome. I think some of the men wondered whether a former officer could handle the rugged outdoor work, but it was not difficult at all. I was a fast walker, and could easily last through the day.
Our route took us along the foothills on the north side of the Yellowstone River, beginning at Glendive and working toward Miles City. In general, the weather was favorable, though we sometimes had snow flurries which made it difficult to use the survey instruments. We ate our lunches out in the open, unless the weather was unusually bad. Then we ate in the vehicles. We had surplus Army vehicles, a carryall, and a former Army ambulance for transportation. The latter was assigned to the level crew, which followed the transit crew in the field. Those four-wheel drive vehicles, though terrible gas-eaters, could climb anywhere!
I really enjoyed the work. As head chainman, I was out in front of the rest of the party, and saw first any wildlife there was to see. I also filled my pockets most days with moss agate rocks which I found. Most of the snow was gone, so the footing was good.
On my first long week-end at home, we found an apartment at Fort Peck, in an old barracks building, and moved down there. Jane needed to have her own place to take care of, though it meant she would be alone for long stretches of time. She quickly got acquainted with our neighbors, other young couples, and that helped. Usually when I was home we would go in to Glasgow for church on Sunday mornings, and have dinner with my parents.
The time went quickly, and we made good progress on the job. Then, about the middle of April, Jane and I decided that she mustn't be alone so much, as the baby should arrive around the middle of May. I talked to the Bureau's personnel man, and worked out a new assignment (and a slight promotion) to a job in the Bureau's warehouse there at Fort Peck. That allowed me to be at home each night, though I hated to leave the survey work. I had really enjoyed that job!
The job in the warehouse was a good one. I usually walked to work, taking a sack lunch, so that Jane could have the little car. Work in the warehouse, and in the outdoor storage yard, kept me busy most of the time. We had all sorts of things to store, issue, and inventory from time to time. Most of the items were used in maintenance of large power transmission lines, and in the repair and maintenance of vehicles. The garage was located at one end of the warehouse. The travelling line maintenance men kept their vehicle in the warehouse, also. That gave me opportunity to get acquainted with several of them. The garage mechanic and I became good friends, too.
As soon as the fishing season opened, we spent much time fishing at Fort Peck lake, and in the river below the powerhouse. Fishing was lively that spring and summer, and we had many fine meals of yellow perch, crappie, catfish, and sometimes walleyes. We often went to Glasgow to visit with the folks, and to shop.
In the evening of May 17th, after fishing at the lake, we were busy cleaning a big catch of yellow perch. Suddenly Jane announced that she must go to the hospital immediately! To be specific, the "water broke," which meant that the baby was about to arrive! While we were fishing a big thunderstorm was coming up in the west. Now it was upon us, raining hard, lightning flashing, and a strong gusty wind was blowing. Fort Peck was eighteen miles from Glasgow and the hospital. We phoned ahead to say that we were coming in, then started off. With the severe storm, it seemed like an age before we arrived in Glasgow! In fact, the people at the hospital had begun to worry about us, and so had my parents! But we were there in plenty of time.
I'll never forget that night. Jane's doctor had given her instructions earlier that he would use something called "twilight sleep" to sedate her, and that the birth process wouldn't be difficult or painful. Either he didn't get the dosage right, or Jane was different, but that was no calm night. Jane was out of her mind with the difficult and painful contractions. She demanded that she be allowed to get out of the room and go home. A nurse friend of my parents and I had all we could do to hold her down. The baby wasn't born until about 8AM, in the morning of May 18th. We were all exhausted.
We already had a name ready for a boy--David Glenn. He was a large, healthy baby, and we were glad the ordeal was over. Jane stayed in the hospital ten days, as was customary in those days. By the time she was released she was very weak from having been in bed so long. We took her and the baby to my folks' home for the first few days. I drove back and forth to work each day from Glasgow.
The baby had trouble with colic, and Jane and my mother found they disagreed on several points of child care. We were glad when we could move back to our little apartment at Fort Peck. David's colic soon cleared up, and we had lots of fun with him.
We loved to bathe him, and he liked the water. There was one problem--the doctor had instructed Jane to feed him at regular four-hour intervals. That meant one feeding was due at 2AM each morning. When the alarm went off, I would bring David to Jane, and she would try to get him to nurse. All of us, including David, were sleepy, and he would drop off to sleep. My part of the action then was to tickle the bottoms of his feet, in an effort to get him to stay awake and do his duty. After wearing ourselves out on that little business for a couple of weeks, Jane asked the doctor what should be done. He gave a most sensible answer: "let the child sleep!"
One Saturday we drove in to Glasgow, picked up my parents, and drove out to the old homestead. It was the first time my parents or I had been back there since the fall of 1932. I almost wished we hadn't gone, as it was so difficult for both Mom and Dad. The buildings were all gone, almost without a trace. Mom wept the whole time we were there. Dad walked about some, then came back to the car. He had always felt that he was a failure because he hadn't been able to make the place a productive farm. We didn't stay very long.
The summer passed quickly, and it was soon time to make plans for my return to college. We had decided, because we had very little savings, that I should go to the University of Montana, at Missoula, to pursue a course in wildlife technology. I was intensely interested in wildlife, and loved being out of doors. I thought work in that line would be most satisfactory for me. I had dropped the idea of becoming a forest ranger.
About the middle of September we left our apartment at Fort Peck, and moved back in with the folks in Glasgow. I left Jane and David there, with my folks, and drove to my sister Jean's farm near Big Sandy. From there I drove on to Missoula, in time to register for classes. I had already sent my transcript to the University, and received notice that I was accepted. Our plan was that as soon as I could arrange housing for us, in Missoula, I would come back to bring Jane over. That took much longer to do than we anticipated.
I'll long remember that drive from Big Sandy to Missoula! The woods and mountains were beautiful that day, and I had plenty of time to stop occasionally to look around. I arrived in good time, and was assigned a bed in the old gymnasium on the campus. There were about fifty of us new students bedded down there. It was too much like some of the barracks I had lived in during the war!
I was assigned a faculty advisor, to help me plan my course of study. He advised me that a course in wildlife management would require at least three years, and that a bachelor's degree in that field wouldn't be enough--I would have to go on to finish a Master's degree, at least. He and the registrar went over my transcript, and evaluated my military experience as a personnel officer, and granted me senior status in another field.
So I undertook a twin major in economics and sociology, instead of the wildlife study I had counted on. It seemed more practical, and I could earn a bachelor's degree in both fields in only one full year of study. I thought our savings, together with the help of the GI bill, would see us through. That choice had a very large influence in my life work! More about education and jobs must wait for the next blog!

THE WAITING YEARS
Now began a period in my life which seemed to go on far too long. In my mind, I still held to the goal of someday achieving a college degree. For the foreseeable future there was simply no way I could afford to go back to school. When the school year was finished, in June of 1940, I was so broke I couldn't even to return to Montana! I didn't want to borrow any more money from my sister, Jean. There was little chance of finding work in the McMinnville area, either.
R and her folks very kindly offered me a place to stay until I could find work. So, with nothing else in sight, I accepted their offer. I brought my pitiful little belongings to their house, in east Portland, near Mt. Tabor. I was embarrassed, to say the least. I had learned, or thought I had learned, to take care of myself. I had only a few dollars left, barely enough to ride the street car down town each day, and return at night. I haunted the public and some private employment offices; I read the ads in the newspapers every day. I visited many offices down town, but couldn't seem to find work anywhere. I became quite discouraged and pessimistic.
There were some very pleasant things about staying with R's family, though. Her grandmother, Sarah Francis, then probably in her sixties, was a wonderful artist. She held open house every Sunday, and many people came to see her paintings. Her whole house, even the walls off the stairway, were covered with beautiful oil paintings. R and I helped her with the entertaining of guests at her open house, and sometimes I visited with her while she was painting. Many of her paintings hung in business and public offices around Portland. Some of them had been sold for as much as $500, a lot of money in those days! She had one very interesting technique which I tried years later. She always laid a base coat of bright lemon or chrome yellow all over the canvas. She said it made her pictures look "sunny," and I think it did!
Finally I spotted an ad in the paper! An insurance office down town had openings for several clerks. I called right away, and went down to the office to take the special examination they gave to prospective employees. I thought I had done all right on the test, but was really excited when the office called that very afternoon to tell me to come to work! That was the Farmers Insurance Company; their office was the regional office for Oregon, Washington, and Idaho. The accounts for thousands of automobile and truck insurance policies were kept in that office. There were forty or fifty people working there.
My first assignment was in the files. Four or five clerks handled the filing work. We took orders from various people in the office for particular folders, located the file, and checked it out to that person. We had to pull hundreds of files each day, and replace those being returned. Also many new policies came in each day, to be filed. We had to work very rapidly and accurately, as a lost file presented serious problems. I was on my feet all day.
But I was young and healthy. At lunch time, after eating my sack lunch, I would either play table tennis or take lengthy walks outside. I found that I could beat most of the fellows at table tennis, because of the experience and training I had while at Linfield.
My wages were low, about $35 or $40 per week, if I remember right. But living costs were pretty low, too. Fare to ride the street cars was only five cents, including a transfer, if a person needed one. I ate simple sandwich lunches, purchased in a nearby cafe.
Very soon after getting that job I looked for and found a place to live in a boarding house. It also was located on the east side of Portland, only a block from the street car line. Mr. and Mrs. McLain provided a good home for five or six of us young men. I had a private room, upstairs. Mrs. McLain was a very plain cook, and a kind lady, who made us all feel right at home.
When I moved away from R's home, her parents wouldn't accept any money for my having been there three weeks. They were very generous people, and kind to me. I think it was better that I not stay there, as R and I saw far too much of each other. I still went out to see her often after moving to the McLain's.
When I had a little money coming in, I traded in my little Argus 35mm camera, which my sister Jean had given me two years before, on a much better Perfex 35mm rangefinder camera. It had a faster lens, and a more versatile shutter. I bought the camera from Sandy's Camera Store, just a few blocks from the insurance office. The store clerks offered good advice about taking pictures. I found that the store had a wonderful darkroom setup above the store. I could rent the use of a darkroom and the equipment there for very little, so I began to spend most of my spare time there. With help from the people in the store, I learned how to develop black and white negatives and make much improved enlargements.
On weekends I often went down to the river front, to take pictures. There ships from all around the world were berthed, loading or unloading. I shot lots of film from the bridges and docks, taking pictures of passing speedboats, and fishermen. I remember seeing some Japanese ships there, loading scrap steel. I never gave a thought to the war which was already going on in Europe, and threatening us from the Far East. I was totally self-centered and selfish.
I became close friends with two of the young men in the basement at the boarding house--Bob and Joe Brower. They were from somewhere in the midwest, and were devoted to their church, the Church of the Brethren. Later in the winter of 1940 Bob and I sang with the Portland civic chorus, which performed with the Portland Symphony Orchestra. In connection with that we once helped in the performance of an opera, singing in the chorus. I have forgotten the name of the opera, but it provided much fun and hard work.
Early in the fall I was given a slight promotion at the office to become an accounting clerk. It proved to be a disaster, rather than a blessing for me. The company made a regular practice of moving clerical people around, so that we could be acquainted with all phases of the operation. In this new job I had the task of keeping up with the thousands of Idaho policies (someone told me there were 90,000, but I certainly never counted them!) . It was there I first was exposed to IBM procedures for record-keeping.
Each day I had to work through the cards for the Idaho policies. The cards were stored in big "tubs," flat trays on table-height stands, in front of me. I pulled the cards for necessary processing, and filed new cards in the proper numerical order. The cards for terminated policies had to be located and processed. The printing on the cards was difficult to read, because it was so small. To keep up with the work load, I had to work part of my noon hour, and sometimes for a half hour or more after all the others had left the office in the afternoon. As a result, I became very tense and nervous.I was desperately anxious to do a good job and keep up.
One night as I was riding home on the street car, I suddenly felt sick to my stomach, and vomited up a lot of bright red blood, right on the floor of the street car, and then passed out! When I came to, a lot of people were standing around me, and the car was stopped. I was able to tell them where I needed to get off, and I walked the block or so to the boarding house, very slowly, as I still felt pretty wobbly.
I told Mrs. McLain what had happened, and she had me get into bed while she called a doctor. I didn't vomit any more blood, but felt really punk! The next day I went to the doctor's office, had some X-rays and other examinations. The doctor said I had "an ulcerous condition," and would have to go on a strict diet. Also, the doctor called the insurance office and recommended that I be given a different job. (I had told him of my trouble in doing the work.) Elmo White, the insurance office manager, was very kind and helpful. The job of files supervisor happened to be vacant just then, and I was offered that position. That worked out fine, as I was already well acquainted with the whole filing operation. Very important, I received a small raise, and could be much more relaxed. That was my first real supervisory job; I had four fellows, including my friend, Bob Brower, working for me,and we got on very well.
About this time R and I broke up. I still feel somewhat guilty about that. Her father had died that fall, and I know that in my self-centeredness I had not been as sympathetic and understanding as I should have been. We had talked about getting married, but I couldn't see any chance of that. I have no doubt it was best for both of us, though I know it was a difficult time for me, almost like a death. It did give me some understanding of how people feel after a divorce. I dated other girls, but was somehow always looking for R in crowds, on the street, and everywhere. I did see her occasionally, but had no opportunity to talk with her. Sometime that winter Bob Brower and I decided to move out of the boarding house and try renting an apartment together. We found a neat little semi-daylight basement apartment just a few blocks from the office. We could walk back and forth to work, and save money. We put up our own lunches, so we needn’t go home during the noon hour. We got along fine, sharing the cooking and housekeeping. I remember we had a wall bed, which pulled down from the wall at night, and took up a big share of our little living room.
Bob spent much of his time at his church, while I spent most of my spare time at the public library, the zoo, and the Portland Art Gallery. I was still taking many pictures, and had a growing interest in art. All those places were within walking distance of our apartment. On weekends we often took the bus or trolley and rode all around Portland. We could buy a monthly bus pass for just a few dollars, and ride the transit system as much as we liked. I was trying to save some money, and had paid off my college debts. I had too little money saved to think of going back to school yet.
One thing that I haven't mentioned in previous chapters, or until now, was the steady correspondence I kept up with my mother and sister. Mom wrote faithfully every week while I was in my second year at school in Havre, and while I was in the CCC's and at Linfield. I really enjoyed those letters. Jean, my sister, wrote frequently, also. My father didn't write so often. I sometimes received a letter from Robert, who was married by then, and beginning a large family. I tried to write a letter to the folks every two weeks or so. It was in those years that I developed the habit and liking for writing letters.
I always had been a little interested in flying; in the spring of 1941 I became more so. I frequently saw Air Corps P47 fighter planes flying over Portland, and began to wish that I could join the Air Corps and learn to fly those planes! So I began to haunt the Portland Air Base, sometimes trying to get pictures of the planes in the air. Then I decided to apply to become an Air Cadet, though I understood that one had to have a college degree to qualify.
I learned that a degree was not required--I had enough education--and I passed the written tests easily, getting very good scores. I passed the tough physical exam also, except for one thing--my blood pressure was too low! Ever since my high school running days I had a very slow pulse rate--about 60 beats per minute at rest--and had always passed out easily. I guess it was the low blood pressure that caused that problem. Whatever, the flight surgeons at the base suggested all sorts of things to bring my blood pressure up to the necessary level, but nothing seemed to work. They told me that with low blood pressure a man was apt to black out when making fast maneuvers that would greatly increase the gravitational forces. To make the story short, I formally applied and was rejected three times that spring and summer!
Sometime in the summer of 1941 I made a trip to Glasgow to visit my folks. I was glad to be home, but had only a few days there, as vacation (without pay) was necessarily short. While there I took some pictures of Dad and Mom, and my sister, Mary. I still have those negatives, filed with hundreds of others.
That visit to Glasgow was to be the last time I would see my parents until I came home on leave from the army in 1943. Soon after my visit, my younger sister, Mary, got a job in Washington, D.C., and left Glasgow. She had suffered from multiple sclerosis since 1937, but it was in remission at that time. She was a beautiful girl, and we were all sure she would do well in Washington.
Sometime that summer, or in the early fall, I was again promoted at the office, being made an underwriting clerk. This was a significant step toward becoming a full-fledged underwriter (one who wrote up insurance contracts). In this job I learned how to handle all sorts of auto insurance policies, doing routine tasks like renewing existing policies, or transferring policies from one vehicle to another. I had to look up the rates, and code the applications ready for the key-punch operators to set up those pesky IBM cards. Also, I gave the typist assigned to me instructions on using standard form letters to owners, acknowledging changes, and so on. It was routine work, but important. I often turned to the underwriters, who sat just behind me, for instructions on handling new applications. It was an interesting job,and I liked the prospect of becoming an underwriter.
One day that fall we had a good bit of excitement. In the middle of the afternoon the big plate glass windows that formed the walls on two sides of our office began to make an unusual booming sound. Then the light fixtures overhead began to sway back and forth. Someone yelled "earthquake!" Those closest to the big front doors made a dash to get outside. Many of us farther back in the office just stood up, wondering what was going to happen. A few girls crawled under their steel office desks, probably the most sensible thing to do. The quake lasted a few seconds, and was a mild one. It startled drivers in cars on the streets, though, and traffic had come to a standstill when the shaking stopped. It did wake us up!
Late that fall I decided that I needed a larger camera, one that would take larger negatives. I finally decided on large single lens reflex camera called a Graflex, and placed the order with Sandy's Camera Store. That camera cost about $100, a huge sum to me in those days. It was to have an f4.5 Kodak lens, use 2 1/4 by 3 1/4 film packs, and it had a focal plane shutter with speeds from one second to 1/1000 of a second! When I ordered that camera I didn't give a thought to the war that was going on in Europe, or the growing possibility of war between the United States and Japan. Neither did I think of going back to school, as I still didn't have what I thought I needed in savings to try school again. I know now I had wandered off the track!
Well, the camera finally arrived after several weeks. I picked it up at Sandy's on the afternoon of December 6. I bought a film pack, to be ready to take pictures with it the next day. About 10AM of the morning of December 7th I went out to try my new camera. I walked down from our apartment to a nearby strip of park land, and began to focus on this building and that. I was preoccupied with that when I heard a friend calling to me from her apartment steps. She came running out and told me that the news on the radio said that the Japanese were attacking Pearl Harbor in the Hawaiian Islands! Of course I stopped playing with that camera right then. I went to her apartment, and spent most of the rest of the day listening to the various news reports. Everyone was in a state of shock, to say the least!
Early Monday morning, someone set up a big radio in the insurance office, so we could all listen to the news. Then President Roosevelt came on, with his famous speech "...a state of war (he pronounced it "wah") exists between our nation and the nation of Japan." It was really a solemn moment; some of the girls were crying, and we young men, especially, were very angry. Right after the President stopped speaking, I went to the office manager and asked permission to go down and enlist. I had decided the night before that I should get into the service right away. I was not alone, of course. When I got down to the recruiting office I found a long line of young fellows waiting to enlist. At times that afternoon the line was three blocks long! When I finally got up to the desk, they could only give me a reporting date--it was to be January 5, 1942. Meanwhile, they told me, I would have to obtain a release from my draft board, as the Selective Service would be calling up many men soon. Also, when I told the recruiter that within the last year I had experienced serious stomach trouble, he instructed me to obtain a doctor's statement that I was no longer suffering from ulcer or anything like that.
Those next few weeks were full ones! I obtained the necessary clearances from the doctor and the draft board, though the board was reluctant. They wanted me to wait and be drafted in February or March. Everything at the office was hectic, too, as those of us who were going into the service were busy training girls to take over our jobs.
Finally, right after New Years, I was ready to leave. I packed up my new camera and shipped it home, with my college books, most of my clothing, etc. On the fifth of January I was ready, and headed off to war. That is another story that I will tell in a later chapter! Before I end this chapter, though, allow me to give a description of myself at that time. I was twenty-two years old. My hair was quite long, very curly or wavy. Inwardly, I was probably more self-confident than I had any right to be. I had done well at the insurance office, and seemed to be well-liked. I got along well with people, and was a competent amateur photographer, and proud of that. But also I was almost totally ignorant of what was really going on in the world, though our getting into the war had made me recently much more interested in world affairs. I was very patriotic! Yet, at heart, I was mostly very narrow in my thinking, interested almost entirely in myself! I still had a lot of growing up to do, though I didn't realize it. Perhaps the army would be good for me!

MY YEAR AT LINFIELD COLLEGE
Looking back fifty years at this particular year in my life (1939-40) I have mixed feelings. It meant a return to college, and thus another step toward the achievement of my goal of a college education. I also must confess that I didn't make the best use of that year of school, and made some serious mistakes. That was one year I wish I could live again!
As I described in the previous chapter, some of my CCC friends saw me off on the train at Belton. It was late in the afternoon, almost supper time. I was too excited to worry about eating. I had checked my foot locker through as baggage, and had only my very large (and cheap) suitcase with me in the coach car. The bag went up overhead all right, and I settled down to watch the landscape. The country through which the train was going was very new to me.
After some time, mostly spent looking at mountains and trees, I dozed off and awoke as we were pulling into Spokane, Washington. Here I had an hour lay-over, as I had to change to a different railroad. I remember putting my suitcase in a locker in the Great Northern station, then going out for a walk in the night. It was about midnight when I strolled up over the Division Street Bridge, and looked at the city and the river. It was a quiet, cool night in mid-September, and there was little traffic. I remember seeing the stars reflected in the river. I noticed the lights on a tall building--the ONB building, as indicated by a large sign--though I didn't know what those letters meant.
Back to the depot, and then on board the new train, I again settled down to try to get some sleep. I was pretty nervous, afraid that someone would get my luggage, and wondering how I would get out to McMinnville from Portland. The map showed a distance of about fifty miles, and there was no railroad running out that way. Early in the morning I awoke, and went to the men's restroom at the front of the car, to shave. That was difficult to do, what with the swaying and shaking of the train. I was extremely hungry--"ready to eat a horse," as we used to say. I decided to go to the dining car and have breakfast; hang the cost! I didn't have much money, but had to eat.
I made my way back toward the rear of the train, going through other passenger coaches, and then through some Pullman cars, before I came to the diner. When I arrived, I was dismayed to see that all the tables were occupied. I was about to turn around and go back to my seat when a kindly looking man and his wife saw me, and invited me to share their table. It didn't take me long to accept the invitation!
I soon found out that the man was Doctor Pollard, a teacher of religion subjects at Linfield! I told them that Linfield was where I was heading, and asked all sorts of questions about the college. It was very encouraging to talk with them. They also assured me that in Portland I could easily catch a bus out to McMinnville, and told me how to get to the campus from the bus station. That was the first time I had eaten in a train dining car. I was properly shocked at the cost of that meal--something over three dollars, if I remember right. However, the coffee was thick and strong, and the eggs well done. I was very happy and satisfied.
While we were eating, we went past Bonneville Dam, and my eyes bulged, I am sure, as I gazed at it. I had worked at Fort Peck Dam, and had seen some big concrete structures, but nothing like Bonneville! I still like to look at that dam whenever we drive past it, as it brings back memories of that green college boy and his breakfast in the dining car.
Very soon, it seemed to me, we pulled into Portland, and I left the Pollards. I rounded up my two heavy pieces of luggage, the foot locker and suitcase, and walked the several blocks to the Greyhound Depot. There I caught a bus out to McMinnville. I got off at the bus depot, though I learned later that the bus passed along the edge of the campus as it left town. I could have asked to be dropped off there. As it was, I had a half mile or so to walk, carrying the luggage.
I remember that walk well. My foot locker seemed to weigh a ton or more, and I was very warm. I was wearing my raincoat, since I had both hands full with the locker and suitcase. Signs at intervals along the street pointed toward the college, so I had no trouble finding the school. There were a few students walking around, and someone directed me to the administration building. The campus was beautiful, with lots of green grass, and many huge old oak trees scattered around. There were roses still in bloom, and other flowers, as well. The buildings looked very good, though some were obviously old. The whole thing was a bit intimidating. Except for Al Mundhenk, my friend, I didn't know a soul there, and I didn't know where to find Al.
It seemed that the admissions office was all ready for me to arrive. The registrar had me signed up in a few minutes. They directed me to my assigned dorm room in Pioneer Hall, just half a block away. So I picked up my luggage once more, walked over to Pioneer, and climbed the stairs to the third floor. The room was easy enough to find--and large enough, too. I was the sixth person assigned to that room. Two others had already checked in. I found that they were all sophomores, and as a Junior, I could choose my bunk. I chose a lower bunk, in the far left corner of the room, and quickly got settled in. The wash room was down the hall several doors, and the college commons, where we ate our meals (and where I worked some) was on the ground floor.
In 1939, the college had about a thousand students, and a fairly large faculty. There were two large women's dormitories on the campus, and another men's dorm, much newer than Pioneer Hall. Several "Greek" houses-- sororities and fraternities--were scattered in the nearby area, off campus.
One of the first people I met was Zack (I wish I could recall his full name!) who was to be my supervisor in my various jobs around the campus. He was a senior, and a great friend. He was very strong and quick, though inclined to be a bit bossy at times when we fellows got a little rowdy. My courses were very interesting. I had advanced psychology, and later in the year, abnormal psych; a religion course taught by my new friend, Dr. Pollard; organic chemistry; and some courses in sociology. Oh--I had physical education, too, and that was good for me.
Because Al was a member of the Baptist Church, I began to go there to worship. Their church was large and somehow "cold" feeling, and I didn't seem to fit in too well. It wasn't long before I decided to visit the Methodist Church, and found I liked that much better. I became a regular member of the choir, and was active in the Epworth League.
My work on the campus was close at hand, to say the least. The tools I needed were stored in the heating plant, only a few yards from the dormitory. It was a simple matter to go down to the heating plant, to get the tools. I worked two or three afternoons a week, cleaning up the leaves that were just beginning to fall, and learning to prune roses to prepare them for winter. One day I was pruning the rose plants in front of the music hall when I noticed many students going into the building. I asked someone what was going on, and learned that they were going to a cappella choir auditions. I had already heard that it was very difficult to get into the choir, so hadn't really thought much about it. When my friend Al Mundhenk came by, and urged me to go in for an audition, I decided to try it! Lo and behold, I was accepted, and placed in the baritone section. That choir was the highlight of my whole year at Linfield. I had to rearrange my work schedule some, because we rehearsed three times a week, in the afternoon. It meant that I had to work a few hours most Saturdays, and some in the evenings, but the choir was so much fun it was worth it. Our director was "Ma" Elliott, the finest choir director I have ever known. She directed with her hands, no arm waving or other signals, except perhaps her facial expressions. I was fortunate in having a good ear for music in those days, and could quickly learn new songs. Everything we worked on had to be memorized in the first two rehearsals. It was wonderful experience, and gave me a life-long appreciation for a cappella singing, which is probably the most difficult of all group singing. It was a wonderful organization, and everyone had fun, while working very hard.
So many memories come crowding back I hardly know what to put down here. I did enjoy and look forward to the chapel services, held twice each week. We often had very entertaining speakers, very thought-provoking. I was reading a lot (as I've done all my life) in my spare time, and often found my thinking challenged.
I particularly enjoyed the course in organic chemistry, which ran through the whole year. Because I had achieved high grades in chemistry at Northern Montana College, and did well right away in organic, I became a member of the national chemistry honor society.
In the spring, when the weather warmed up a bit, I took tennis for physical ed. I had played tennis at NMC, so thought I knew the basics of the game. At Linfield I found that I really knew next to nothing! There were many excellent players, both men and women, and I loved to watch them play though I couldn't begin to compete with the better players.
My particular handball partner and tennis mate in PE was a Chinese boy named Eddie Liu. We had great times together, were pretty evenly matched. He came from a very wealthy family in China. One day Eddie asked me if I liked to play chess. I had learned just a smattering of chess while in the CCC's in Glacier Park, and liked the game. So I quickly took him up on his invitation to come up to his room in the dormitory to play chess one evening. I'll never forget those chess men! He had the most exquisite set I ever hope to see. The "whites" were of carved ivory, the king and queen about eight inches tall. All the pieces, even the pawns, had delicately carved faces. The "blacks" were of carved jade--beautiful, translucent green jade--and matched the ivory set in size and careful carving. I am sure the set was worth many thousands of dollars, even in those days in the 1930's. We played often with those precious things, and were good friends.
Early in the winter, Al suggested to me that we conduct special chapel services one evening a week, for the benefit of any students who might like to come. A young lady, Mary Louise Tannehill, of Billings, was available to help us. She played the piano for the singing, which Al led, while I often read Scripture and led in the prayers. We had many of those simple little meetings, with a small but faithful group of students attending. I am amazed now, to look back on those meetings. Surely God had a hand in them! I know now that I was not really a Christian, yet I truly enjoyed having a part.
Late in the fall the Epworth League had a party at the parsonage of the Methodist Church. I remember that there was a large turnout. Among other activities, we played table tennis in the basement. Somehow I managed to strike my hand against the edge of the table, and got a huge sliver driven into the thick of my right thumb. It was very painful. Most of the others just stood around and felt sorry for me. One girl, who lived there with the minister's family, came right over, got the sliver out of my hand, and applied bandages, etc., to stop the bleeding. She was very kind and friendly.
Up to that point I had noticed her, but hadn't given her much attention. Things changed after that! She was two or three years older than I, and came from Portland. Her folks were friends of the pastor and his wife; that was how she came to be living there. She was a freshman that year, and wasn't at all sure just why she was there in school, anyway. To make the story shorter, we fell in love! After that I spent many hours at the parsonage. The pastor had always seemed reserved and stand-offish to me until then, but we became good friends. His wife was a friendly lady, too. They often invited me to eat Sunday dinner with them, and I enjoyed that. I'm sorry to say that I lost far too much study time the rest of the year, walking clear across town from the campus to the parsonage, and going on long walks with that wonderful girl. We saw too much of each other, I know; it wasn't good, though at the time it seemed like paradise. She and her parents were very good to me, on a couple of week-ends, and in the first weeks of the following summer, when I was broke and had no money, they put me up for three or four weeks.
Back to school! In mid-December the choir began to do a series of concerts, in McMinnville, nearby towns, and in Portland. I think we did four or five. Also, we sang with the college orchestra, presenting the Messiah oratorio. That was my introduction to that wonderful music. I've had a lasting interest in it every since, and have often sung in it in churches and with civic choral groups and orchestras.
Christmas came, and most of the students went home. I stayed on campus, partly to work, and partly because I had nothing else to do, or money to spend. I was happy to be back in school after the holidays. We in the choir were still working hard, getting ready for the spring tour.
Meanwhile, I spent an awful amount of time with my girl friend and my studies slipped badly. I was only earning "B's," instead of my usual "A" level. We indulged in some pretty heavy petting, of which I am much ashamed today. It was foolish to get so involved, foolish for both of us, I think.
Finally, about mid-April, the day came when the list of those who were to go on the choir tour appeared on the bulletin board. With many others, I read the list, expecting that my name would be there. But it wasn't! I can remember that moment very clearly. No one said anything to me, though some must have seen me standing there staring at the list. My eyes were full of tears as I turned and walked away. That was surely one of the most bitter disappointments of my life. I spent hours just walking, walking, and wondering why I had been left out.
Finally I went back to the campus. I didn't know how I could face all the others while eating in the commons, but being young and hungry, decided to go to eat. I remember that I went in, and when a girl in the choir saw me, she came running over, all excited. She told me that there had been a mistake made, that the list had been corrected, and my name was now on the list! She had noticed that it wasn't on the first list, and knew that I must feel bad about it. I could scarcely believe it, but was glad to hear. Later the director personally apologized to me, and everything was OK again. Somehow, though, it left a permanent memory.
I went on that tour, and had a great time. As I remember, there were about forty choir members, and two or three musicians who played solos or took part in instrumental numbers. We toured old Fort Steilacoom, near Tacoma, and saw the beautiful new Tacoma Narrows Bridge that collapsed a year or two later in a violent wind. We saw the beautiful volcanic mountains--Saint Helens, Hood, Ranier and Glacier Peak. We saw the great sprawling paper mills at Vancouver, and smelled the smell! We sang as we went, sang in churches and schools, even sang in the homes in which we stayed. It was a grand tour. Right after the tour we had our chance to "do our thing" at the Music Box Theater in Portland, singing with the Portland Symphony.
Then there was the earthquake! I was a very sound sleeper in those days. One night there was an earthquake, or maybe a series of shocks. Everyone in the dorm woke up, someone warned that we should all get out of the dorm, and all but one did. I slept through it all! When I awoke, I saw that all my books had fallen off my desk, right beside my bed. Big chunks of plaster had fallen from the ceiling to the floor. There was no one else in the room, and I couldn't imagine what had happened. It was only when I went down to breakfast that I found out about the earthquake! I was kidded a lot about being such a sound sleeper.
That was in the spring of the year. Graduation came, and I was happy to see my friend Al graduate. Now he was ready to go on to medical school; he had already applied and been accepted in a school in Portland. The students scattered out to their homes. I--what could I do? I didn't have even enough money to go back home to Montana. Sadly I packed up my clothes and books, and accepted my girl friend’s invitation to come to her home in Portland to stay until I could find work. It was embarrassing, but the only thing I could do, so I accepted.
That was the end of my year at Linfield. Everyone in the whole school, faculty and students alike, had been very kind to me, and for that I feel I owe a great debt. I didn't return to the campus until many years later, in about 1982. Pioneer Hall, where my room had been in 1938, was still in use, now as a women’s residence hall, though many of the other buildings were changed. The old oak tree out in front of Pioneer was still there, too, though one of its great limbs had been cut away long ago. Mistletoe still grows in the oaks, and is popular, I'm sure, with the fellows and girls who attend there today.

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!