CHAPTER 1 THE ROAD TO ADVENTURE

Surely destiny provided the means for Spencer Bever and I to meet. The setting was Everett Jr. High School in Columbus Ohio, and the occasion was a meeting of the model airplane club. On this particular day, I noticed this boy working on a tiny machine gun, mounted on a fragile ring. I recognized the assembly to be a miniature Lewis machine gun usually found on two-seater World War One aircraft.

Once a conversation was opened, I realized I had found someone special. Talking to Spence was a departure from the usual idle chatter that seemed to dominate most relationships with the other boys within my circle of friends. Model airplanes were the catalyst, and from there we discovered we had many common interests. The outdoors, Indians, aviation, hiking, and distaste for crowds, and cities.

Our friendship grew rapidly. I learned his parents were separated and that his father was a city fireman which opened new vistas for me. We often visited his father at the firehouse, ate with the firemen, played table tennis and pool. I spent much of my time at the apartment that Spence and his father shared on north High Street. It was located near the fire station, and north of Ohio State University.

We graduated from Everett Jr. High and were startled to learn that living in different districts as we did, would force us to attend different high schools. It was a shocker! Spence would be enrolled at North High, and I would attend Central High which was located in downtown Columbus.

We learned to cope with this problem and our friendship would continue to mature. Time rolled by, the war in Europe continued it�s course, and our interest deepened as we envisioned the swift fighter planes streaking thru the skies and the droning bombers over London.

From high school we entered the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps). This experience provided knowledge and insight, and softened the harsh transition into army life to come later. Spence was shipped to Redmond Oregon and I was sent to a camp in Fresno Ohio for the first six months. We were discharged in early December 1940, and immediately came to the realization that work was anything but plentiful.

Our unanimous decision was the Air Corps. We didn�t get off the ground. The door was closed to anyone lacking two years of college.

Spence suggested that a career in the Marines would be the next best thing and we proceeded to the Marine Recruiting Office. Again we met failure. Spence failed the eye examination (he wore glasses), and I was informed that I had an overbite. I have yet to learn what detrimental effect an overbite might have that would prevent me from being a good Marine. Ironically, we each were excellent marksman with heavy caliber rifle and pistol, thanks to both our fathers.

We pondered our next move for at least five minutes, then proceeded to Ft. Hayes, also located in Columbus. The preceding events had proven quite disappointing but we agreed that the U.S. Army couldn�t possibly turn us away. We were absolutely correct. The Army wouldn�t turn us away. Our conversation with the recruiting sergeant proved rather brief. I asked him �where is the farthest place that you can send us?� His smile warmed the small office.

�I have just the place,� he grinned, �the Philippines!�

Now that sounded very exciting I thought, probably down around Cuba, or maybe near Panama. The Sergeant informed the two of us that the Philippine Islands were located about 700 miles east of the China coast. He also told us that the duty there was beyond anything a common soldier could hope for, and it was only by chance that a few openings existed.

Later, during one of our stints in the mess hall pulling K.P., we were to encounter several young men that had also found themselves fortunate to find �openings� in the Philippines.

The kindly sergeant materialized several exciting brochures depicting Army life in the Philippines. Nattily clad guards could be seen atop the thick walls of what we now know was the Walled City in Manila. Picturesque palm trees, beautiful green parks and lovely buildings were everywhere, sprinkling the landscape with color. How could any red-blooded, adventuresome young man refuse such a wondrous proposition? We quickly signed on the dotted line before the sergeant could remove the official enlistment papers. We certainly would not tolerate any reneging on his part! After all, he had agreed to let us travel to that marvellous land at the U.S. Army�s expense! We hurried to my home nearby to inform my parents of the exciting news. Also, we were very curious to find the location of the Philippines. The Sergeant was correct. The Philippine Islands sat just off the coast of China, across the China Sea. Due to our ages, it was necessary for our parents to give permission, and this was accomplished after a detailed explanation describing all the benefits of Army life. Lack of jobs served as the most powerful leverage in our convincing arguments. I agreed to a monthly allotment of ten dollars for my parents. This would aid them in this difficult time and I would have eleven dollars remaining of my twenty one dollar monthly check. Since I neither smoked nor drank beer or alcohol, the remaining money would cover my personal necessities each month.

We were issued no uniforms or equipment at Ft. Hayes, and in less than one week, and after some intense training in the art of KP�ing we would be boarding a train at Columbus Depot bound for Chicago. Our group consisted of approximately fifteen men from Ohio, Michigan and West Virginia. The eldest of the group, Don Knisley from Michigan, was entrusted with our train tickets.

Following our goodbyes and farewells, we proceeded to the train depot in downtown Columbus, naive and unknowing of the events that faced us, and hardly dreaming that some members of this group would not return. Cold weather covered the Midwest. It was January, 1941.

The train ride to Chicago proved uneventful and we arrived at the huge train depot, amazed at the magnitude of the huge structure. Our orders were to proceed to the �Challenger�, a crack express train that sped across the vast distance from Chicago to San Francisco.

At this time, Mr. Don Knisley, and Mr. James Castle wandered from the confines of the depot in search of a beer. Boarding the train became rather chancy for the rest of our group, since the two rovers, Jim and Don, were the bearers of our train tickets!

We decided to huddle and review our options. Quickly, we came to the conclusion that we had zero options! We would wait, and hope the two adventurers would find their way back to the depot before the Challenger departed for San Francisco. Needless to say, our two beer drinking fellow rookies appeared in time, and we were soon boarding the train, and enroute to the golden west.

Upon boarding the train, we found to our delight that we would have sleeping berths, two men to each berth, and that we would eat in the dining car, three meals each day! This was certainly first class, and it was obvious that the U.S. Army offered nothing but the best! It must be understood that living conditions and luxuries that we now consider commonplace, were not available to the working class in 1941. Most were quite happy to manage the rent each month, and put food on the table.

It was quite exciting for most of us to be riding on a luxurious train, speeding across terrain that none of us had experienced before this �great adventure�. We played cards in the day car, enjoying the scenery, the glamorous girls and the exciting food in the dining car. Such luxury!

The Challenger chugged into Cheyenne, Wyoming and there on the depot platform was a full sized stagecoach in a glass case! Unfortunately, the train stopped for only a few minutes and we had only a short time to see the stagecoach, and to view the wide streets of the old western town.

Our next memorable stop was Reno, Nevada, �The Biggest Little Town in the West�. It was a sight to behold. A place that we had heard of, and read about, but never expected to visit! Very little of Reno did we see. They wouldn�t allow us off the train! Of course, I can imagine these �would be� Don Juan�s loose in Reno. The Army would probably still be looking for them!

The train arrived in Oakland, California early in the morning, and fog and dampness shrouded the ferry terminal. We were treated to a trip on one of the large ferry boats that transported vast numbers of people across from Oakland to San Francisco. The green paint covering the ferry was discolored from the droppings of clouds of sea gulls constantly circling each of the plodding boats. Disembarking at one of the huge piers, we followed directions given to us by ferry personnel, caught a streetcar, and rode to our designated target, Ft. Mason. During the streetcar ride, we were offered glimpses of huge freighters and ocean liners parked at the immense piers. We passed by Fisherman�s Wharf and ogled the wonders.

We learned that Ft. Mason was the embarkation point for Angel Island, which apparently was our final destination. We were directed by Army personnel to board the boat that was moored at the Ft. Mason dock and we learned the boat would leave soon.

CHAPTER 2

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