This week since we celebrated Memorial Day, I would like to share with you some of the stories told by my father as we children sat around the supper table. My father was a great story teller. After we finished our meal, he would scoot his chair back, give a little laugh, and be off to tell one of his sensational stories keeping us kids spell bound for the next hour or so. A lot of times it would be something funny that happened at the feed mill or one of the neighboring farmers would stop to talk about his cows getting out and hooking one of his wife’s night gowns on his horns as he ran through the clothes line. Dad would slap his knee and laugh as he told the stories. Mom would be gathering up the dishes and dad would give her a love pat on her hiney and we kids would laugh. It was a wonderful time. Such great memories.
Sometimes dad would tell his “War Stories” as we called them. Mom had a few stories of her own to tell as well. Her story began with the telling of the day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. She would say it was Sunday, December 7, 1941 when our world changed forever. Her brother, Gordon White was living in Dayton at the time and had gone downtown with his buddies to see a movie. The manager of the theater had stopped the movie and with a trembling voice announced that Pearl Harbor our naval base in the Hawaii Islands had been hit by Japanese bombers in a surprise attack. Uncle Gordon told mom it was dead silence after the announcement for ever so long and then people began to quickly get up out of their seats and run out of the building crying. When he came out of the theater house, people were running everywhere. Many crying and some just sitting on the curb with a look of shock. A few blocks away from the movie house was an Army Recruiting office. He said men were lined up outside the office for about 2 blocks waiting to sign up for service. He said panic filled the city everywhere they went. Many thought that the city would be bombed because Wright-Patterson Air Force base was located in Dayton.
Another story she told always brought tears to dad’s eyes. In fact, when she would launch into the story dad would just hang his head. I could see the tears as they dropped onto his bib overhauls. In July 1942, dad was registered by the Adams County Draft Board to serve in World War II. Dad was drafted in the spring (May 10, 1943) but was able to plant his spring crops before being sent to boot camp. Dad took a bus from Adams County to Fort Thomas, Kentucky. From Fort Thomas he traveled by train to Camp Shelby, Hattiesburg, Mississippi for training. Later Mom and Mary (Wickerham) Newman (also from Seaman) traveled by train to Mississippi to join their husbands. (Later in life Mary Newman ran a Beauty shop out of their home in Seaman. In fact, their daughter Carla Sue Huber still lives there today.) Mom, was only 17 at this time. She lived and worked in Hattiesburg, as a housekeeper for an elderly lady. She had lots of stories to tell about that experience as well. It seems that the culture in which southern ladies lived had not changed a lot since the civil war. Mom was in for some shocking times but we will save those stories for another time. Mom said the trains were booked solid causing people to stand to ride. Anytime a service man was seen standing someone would get up and give them their seat. Dad finished his training and was scheduled to be shipped over sea’s. However, when the official list of assignments was posted dad was being sent home on leave. Dad check with his sergeant and yes it was true and not a mistake. It seems they thought dad was Jewish and since it was time for the celebration of the fall feast’s (Jewish holidays) they gave him leave to go home. It has always been a mystery why they thought dad was Jewish. His name being Paul Caskey Glasgow sure didn’t sound Jewish, but as the saying goes don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. So, dad was able to come home and harvest the fall crops before heading back to Mississippi. Although it was wonderful that dad was able to spend time
with the family and get the crops harvested, there was much more in which to be thankful. It was later learned the ship dad would have been and should have been on to cross the Atlantic had been torpedoed and sunk, killing most of the men on board. Some people would say dad was lucky. Our family didn’t believe in luck, then or now but the power of prayer! We knew God had shown him favor and spared his life. Dad’s tears were his way of thanking God for the miracle.
Dad was shipped out crossing the Atlantic on the Queen Mary and landed at Glasgow, Scotland. From there he was taken first by truck and later by boat to reach the army’s intended destination for him. In the weeks to come dad marched through France into Germany before reaching the front lines. He described the Rhine Forest and how dark it was. Our little eyes followed his hand movements and our ears were glued to each word. It was here that he talked about the fierce fighting and the killing. He said no training could prepare you for the sights, sounds, smell and the tragedy of war. He never made it through these stories without tears filling his eyes. One day his unit had captured several German soldiers and their sergeant asked one of dad’s fellow comrades to march the Germans back several miles where they were holding prisoners. This fellow had just lost his best friend the day before to German fire. Dad said the soldier lined the German prisoners up and marched them over the hill supposedly taking them back to where the other prisoners were being held. After they crossed over the hill and dropped out of sight the sound of gun fire was heard. After a short time, the soldier assigned to take the prisoners back arrived back in camp alone. We would take a deep breath and gasp as dad related the killing of the prisoners. Nothing was ever said about the prisoners or how they had met their death. I remember questioning dad about this horrendous act. Dad’s answer, “It was war.” Next week we will take a look at what it was like to be on the front lines.
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Freedom’s Road- Part 1 - The People's Defender
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