In the past, I have talked about my dad and my memories of him as I was growing up. He passed away about fifteen years ago, but I was reminded of him recently while I was cleaning up several bookshelves in my den and going through a few binders I haven’t looked at in many years. In one of the binders, I found a manila envelope with a bunch of yellowed documents. They were enlistment and discharge papers for my dad when he went into the army during World War II.
I don’t know a lot about my dad during those times. He didn’t talk about himself much, and it was before he met my mom, so she couldn’t fill me in on any details either. There was one story, however, that he told to me a long time ago about his service in the military, and that story is something I believe is worth sharing.
My dad was born in 1927. In 1941, my dad dropped out of school to get a job and help his family out. They lived on a farm in Arkansas and didn’t have a lot of money, so it was important that the kids went to work to help pay some of the bills. At fourteen years old, my dad dropped out of school and went to work with his dad (my grandfather) at the railroad yard.
He worked with the railroad for four years then, the day he turned 18, he enlisted with the U.S. army. This was in April of 1945. World War II was still an active campaign. Germany was done, but Japan would keep fighting until we dropped a couple bombs on them in August of that year.
My dad told his parents he enlisted because he felt it was his duty as an American. He told me years later he enlisted because getting shot at was still a hell of a lot better than living on a farm in Arkansas.
As soon as the army found out that he had four years of experience running a railyard, they shipped him to Okinawa to oversee several supply trains providing food and weapons to soldiers stationed in Japan. His superiors knew that no one was going to take orders from an 18-year-old private, so they immediately promoted him to Sergeant and told him he was in charge.
Turns out, nobody gave a damn what an 18-year-old sergeant had to say either. It was a bit of a rocky start, but as soon as he proved to everyone that he actually did know what he was doing, it got a lot easier.
Easier, except for the constant retreating and rebuilding as the army lost and gained the same ground over and over on the island.
In August, Japan surrendered. My dad remained in Okinawa for another year or so as the U.S. began the dismantling of the Japanese military. In Fall, 1946, the army decided it was time to start downsizing and sending soldiers back to The States. He received notice in the beginning of December that he was going to be discharged and sent back home.
The day before he was supposed to ship back to the U.S. my dad decided to go to a local bar and get drunk. Whether it was to celebrate leaving the army or out of depression because he was going back to Arkansas, I’m not quite sure. His motivations for the outing are a little muddy.
He told me that he got so drunk, he got into an argument with a few other American soldiers about how well he could shoot a gun, since all he did was drive a train while everyone else was fighting. To defend his damaged pride, he drew his service weapon and proceeded to shoot out the ceiling lights in the bar.
My dad told me he fired his pistol half a dozen times and he hit everything he was aiming at. He told me he wasn’t proud of what he had done, although as he told me the story, he did seem rather proud of his marksmanship.
His fellow soldiers were all very impressed at his prowess as well. His superiors … not so much.
The Summary Court-Martial did not last very long. Since he was already scheduled to go home the next day, the judge decided to allow him to keep his good-conduct discharge but busted him down from sergeant back to private where he had initially started his career.
He wasn’t in the army for very long, which is probably a good thing since my dad wasn’t great at being told what to do and he did have a bit of a drinking problem, which you might have already guessed from the incident I just mentioned. I think he was proud of his service time, however, and he used to joke that during his career in the military he was only a private for two days: his first day, and his last.
When he was shipped back home, his flight landed in California and rather than jump on another plane to go to Arkansas, he stayed put. In that respect, enlisting and going to war did successfully get him away from the farm as he had hoped.
While living in California he met my mom and, well, the rest I suppose is history. I came along in 1966 and made the remainder of his days a living Hell. He once told me that raising kids was more stressful and more difficult than going off to war.
I hope that was a bit of an exaggeration, but I can’t help but wonder if raising a kid like me ever made him wish he had stayed on the farm.
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