Country Hunting

Where I grew up, fox hunting was a favorite winter sport. With crops in you could take off occasionally and what better way to spend it than fox hunting. This wasn’t the expensive dress up affairs that you read about in England. Most people owned horses and saddles back then and it didn’t seem to make any difference whose land you hunted the fox on. You simply turned the dogs loose and followed where ever the fox took you. A fox can take you far and wide in the country side. The horsemen would try to keep up with the hounds but the person that got the fox was usually the people walking. It was a sport that any and as many as wanted could join in. I wasn’t too keen on fox hunting but the companionship was good. It was a good excuse for the men to get together, have a few drinks and talk. A horn made from a cows horn was used to call the hounds. One hunter named Genie Overby didn’t use a horn because he could holler louder than any horn. His yell started off kind of deep and kept rising until you couldn’t tell when the yell ended and silence started. Folks swore that you could hear him five miles. I don’t know this to be true but I could hear him easily at my house that was a mile from where the hounds were let loose. I was more interested and impressed with the tricks used by the fox to elude the dogs than with the hunt. Of these clever tricks, how much is inherited and how much is learned? A fox will run far enough ahead of the dogs for a safety margin before doubling back straight toward the dogs. He will then bound unto a log or stump and jump as far as possible off the trail. The dogs will run until they reach the end of the trail, the point where the fox doubled back, and get thoroughly confused. Eventually by trial and error they will pick up the trail again and continue. In the meantime the fox has gained another lead and will attempt another ruse. This time he may jump far into the middle of a stream and go up or down the stream for possibly a hundred yards before climbing out on the far bank of the creek. Again the dogs will follow to the end of the scent on the bank and are baffled. Up and down both banks of the creek the dogs will survey until they pick up the scent where the fox came out of the water. Then the chase renews. I have known foxes to jump on a wooden rail fence and walk down the fence as far as possible before jumping wide from the fence to put as much distance as possible between the fence and scent. On the other hand, dogs seem to know how to circle an area efficiently to pick up a lost trail. They know to follow up and down creek banks to find where the fox leaves the water. I wondered how much of this was was inherited and how much taught by the mother fox. If the fox by tricks and cunning can elude the dogs until dark he wins to run another day. I guess this is what makes fox hunting a sport. Rabbit hunting is much slower than fox hunting. Dogs are not used to catch rabbits. Dogs are used to chase along behind the rabbit, keeping him moving until he returns within shot gun range. When a rabbit is jumped out of his bed, he bounds off rapidly at first. With the dogs barking behind him, he will run a long circular route and return to within a hundred feet of where he started. When the rabbit is jumped, the hunter must find an area clear of under brush enough to see the rabbit when he returns. If he spots the rabbit on the return and is even a fair shot, he will get the rabbit. In thick honey suckle or broom sage it is sometimes too thick to spot the returning rabbit and the rabbit reaches the area from which he started. Now the problem here is that the dog will be running one scent over another scent just minutes old and confusion sets in. Usually it is a waste of time to pursue this rabbit. Just give the bunny the win and look for another to start afresh. The rabbit does have a chance and we call it sport for that reason. You shouldn’t be hunting him unless it is for food to begin with papa always said. There is also rabbit hunting without dogs, which I did the most, with a 22 rifle or bow and arrow. You don’t go jumping on brush piles and scaring rabbits out of bed, as you do with dogs, which chase the rabbit back to you. Very few people would be a good enough shot to hit a bounding rabbit on the jump with a rifle or bow. With a rifle or bow, you ease out early in the morning or late in the afternoon and move slowly. Around fields, at the end of corn rows, or close to gardens, are some of the good places. All movement is in slow motion and you only get one shot. This was the choice sport for me. Squirrel hunting is even slower than rabbit hunting and demands more patience. You can use dogs to hunt squirrels but it requires a different breed of dog. A squirrel dog chases by sight instead of odor and must constantly look up into the tree branches to watch the squirrel. It never appealed to me. It just didn’t seem natural for a dog to look up in trees for squirrels. With a 22 rifle and a bottle of mosquito repellent you are ready to squirrel hunt. Of course you made your own mosquito repellent back then. A little sulfur mixed with kerosene worked pretty good. You could use your own formula as long as it smelled so bad that the mosquito couldn’t stand it. It is best to be at your chosen location before the sun rises. The position you choose determines whether you get a squirrel or not. Ideally, a corn field just opposite a bottom land of trees and having one lone tree between them. You choose a hidden location within range of the tree and put on the mosquito repellent. If you have ever tried to sit absolutely, stone still, for an hour, with mosquitoes the size of may flies, biting you, then you know why I mentioned the repellent often. I have killed six and eight squirrels without moving by getting a good location as above. The squirrels would get to the edge of the woods and use the tree to go out into the corn field. Almost without exception they would use the same limb. When you shoot a squirrel and remain silent, without moving, everything becomes quiet for about ten minutes or less. Activity commences again and another squirrel appears. You are through hunting and home by breakfast and that is a point for squirrel hunting. I have a brother that hunts every day of deer season. Builds elaborate blinds, plants fields of grain for the deer, wears camouflage suits and uses the best telescopic riffles. He derives a great joy from deer. He has a rare albino deer in his living room. Killed the deer and had him stuffed by a taxidermist. As for me, I never could look in those big brown eyes of a deer and shoot him. My brothers (I have seven of them) don’t know that I have never killed a deer. I will leave the deer stories to some one with more expertise than I. I tried duck hunting a few times. I didn’t dress up in camouflage clothes with a duck caller or any of the fancy things. I just slipped out early in the morning, down to a wide pond in the middle of the woods and sat down at the waters edge. When a duck came flying in low, I would shoot him. Two ducks were all that I would ever kill at one hunt as we couldn’t eat more than that. I went down to this pond early one morning when it was below freezing and the lake was iced over. As I sat there watching, the ducks would come in low and try to set down on the pond. They couldn’t stop on the ice, but would skid with wings flailing across the pond. Sitting there alone laughing, I couldn’t bring myself to shoot them. I never went back to hunt them again.

Christmas in the Country

Christmas was awaited with great anticipation. In retrospect, the waiting before Christmas was more rewarding than Christmas it self. No one mentioned or thought about Christmas until we were well into December. Without Television and few radios, advertising was minimal. Year after year the choice of toys was much the same. For boys, depending on age and how much money could be scraped up, there was toy wind up animals, coaster wagons, cap pistols, air riffles, and bicycles. Girls got doll babies, clothes, doll dishes, or make up (Rouge or lip stick was the only make up then). A large box of fire crackers were ordered for the whole family and divided on Christmas morning. Each child's gifts was placed in a designated place ( usually a paste board box ). Nothing was ever wrapped and gifts were never exchanged, except at school. Names were drawn at school and one gift for each student allowed. Typically each Christmas we would get one toy, a bunch of raisins, one orange, one apple, a hand full of candy and our share of the fire crackers. Our family, with twelve children, kept gifts to a minimum. Christmas was much more fun then because it was spent enjoying the day. Now I notice people rushing around decorating, buying gifts, and spending hours, on wrapping alone. They end up tired and washed out on Christmas Day. We decorated occasionally to the extent of a small tree about three feet high. That was before it was discovered that bigger is better. We cut some circles of paper, glued together with flour paste and hung them on the tree along side pop corn, strung with a threaded needle. Mistle toe (shot out of trees with a rifle) was placed on the fire place mantle. There were no Christmas lights because there was no electricity. less time was spent getting ready for Christmas and more time enjoying it. That is what I miss most about Christmas now. We went to bed early on Christmas eve. In fact we went to bed early every night because there was nothing to do and you were usually tired. On Christmas eve my brother Henry and I would wrap our boots with a bag, to keep from getting the bed dirty, and slip in bed fully clothed. Next morning we would jump out of bed and beat every one to the Santa Claus corner. The smaller boys would strap on their cap pistols and commence chasing robbers. Cap pistols used little rolls of paper that exploded with a bang each time the trigger was pulled and left a little wisp of acrid smoke in the air. Older boys would load their Daisy air riffles and decrease the bird population over the next few days. Girls would dress the dolls and play mother. We all shot fire works and in different ways. Tin cans were blown into the air and squirrels run out of hollow trees with fire crackers. We made them last about a week. Henry and I finally got a bicycle apiece one Christmas. Mine was an English Elgin, and Henry’s was a Columbia. They were used bicycles. Papa had found them for sale and given six dollars for the two. That was the happiest Christmas of my life. Henry rode his until the tires wore out, then rode them on the rims. The brakes on mine didn’t work unless kerosene was poured on the brake axle, so I always smelled of kerosene. As to other holidays, they were treated the same as any other day. I never heard of a birthday present or card until I was grown and my wife gave me one.

If I didn’t mention it before, Macon was a small town. There were no policemen although I seemed to remember papa being honorary Chief of Police for awhile. Macon was about the length of two football fields if you left out the in zones. The stores running east to west were Russell's grocery, Gilliam's grocery and hardware, Charlie's service station, the railroad depot, Bumpass service station and West End Beer and Pool hall. I could stand midway and throw a rock on any of the group and West End was out of the town corporate limits. Mr. Gilliam first started the practice of hiring some one to sleep in his store at night to protect it from robbers. He hired my older brother Willard. Willard would stack tin wash tubs up at the door every night and tie a string from the door to the tubs. This was to alert him if any one opened the door. Since he slept upstairs he couldn’t have got out anyway, but I don’t guess this didn’t occur to him. Williard came down stairs one morning and started out of the front door, but the door was stuck. He backed up and gave the door a good shoulder shove, pushing it wide open. When he looked out he saw what was holding the door closed. Some one had propped a dead man on the outside against the door. Williard decided to give the job up so my next oldest brother Mack took the position. The strictest instructions given by Mr. Gilliam was about the light on the back of the store over the stoop. It was a bare 40 watt bulb, but he wanted it turned on at sun set and turned off at sun rise. He said that he wanted to keep his over head down. Well, Mack jumped out of bed one cold Sunday morning at six o’clock to turn off the light. It was freezing weather and sleet falling, so he figured on getting a couple of hours more sleep. There was no inside switch so you had to open the door wide enough to reach up and unscrew the bulb. Mack had only his shorts on since he was going to bounce right back in bed. For some reason, when he leaned out to unscrew the bulb he let go the door and he was locked out. Now phone booths hadn’t been invented back then and no one in his right mind was going to walk up to any house in freezing weather naked and knock on the door. He did the only thing he could do. He ran the two and a half miles home naked, through the woods so no one would see him. Being a little disenchanted with the job after that he quit and I took his place. Along about this time, Mr. Russell decided to hire some one to sleep in his store at night to prevent robberies. Ed Robinson wanted the job and so Mr. Russell hired him. I believe the pay was the same as I made, which was two and a half dollars a week. I knew why Mr. Russell suddenly decided to hire protection, but of course no one else knew, except Ed Robinson. There had been rumors around the stores of how mean people were getting. Signs in front of the stores even had bullet holes in them. Ed had done this in the wee hours of morning while everyone slept, hoping to get a job and it worked. After getting the job, Ed would occasionally shoot a couple of holes in a sign late at night and point it out later to someone. No one knew that Ed shot the holes in the signs and Ed said this was just good insurance. It made the people appreciate our jobs. Somehow the idea of getting up every morning at six o’clock to turn off a 40 watt bulb, especially on Sunday, got to bugging me. The more I thought about it the more it irked me, so when Haithcock's offered me two and a half dollars a week to stay in West End at night, I quit. Mr. Gilliam. didn’t hire any one to replace me, figuring that with Ed on one end of town and me on the other end of town, he was protected. I really didn’t think they needed us to begin with, since in no ones memory had any store ever been robbed. I had slept upstairs in Mr. Gilliam's store. In Haithcock's store I would be sleeping in a little eight by eight room beside the road. At night, in the summer, the window had to be raised to get fresh air. As the window was waist high from the ground, a person could reach through the window and lay their hand on my face if they wanted to. This concerned me a little. Haithcock instructed me never to let anyone buy anything after the store closed. He told me that winos and people half drunk would try to get me to let them have more beer late at night, after the store was closed. It must have been two or three o’clock in the morning, about two weeks after I started staying in the store at night when it happened. I had been in a deep sleep and awakened by a jostling hand. Still groggy, I felt a hand slide over my face, stopping to squeeze my mouth up like a fish puckering. Remembering what Haithcock had said about drunks, I figured this was one. Opening my eyes and sliding my face from under the hand I could see by the faint moon light that it was an earlier customer. He was just beginning to sober up and wanted a can of beer. After about thirty minutes of trying to explain that I couldn’t sell anything after the store closed and him pleading for just one beer, I closed the window. This still didn’t end the begging as he tried to open the window. Finally I locked the window, took my forty five pistol from under my pillow, letting him see it, then placed it in my hand with my hand under the pillow. At this veiled threat, he left. I slept with the window down the rest of the night and almost stifled from the heat. An occasional drunk would try again but since I never gave in to the requests, the visits were less frequent. An unplanned incident finally put a complete stop to the visits. Something came up that required me being away one night, so I got my brother Henry to sleep in for me. At the time I was fifteen and Henry only thirteen. Henry was a little hesitant about staying there alone, but I reminded him that he had a forty five pistol and every one knew he had it, so no one would bother him. That particular night a drunk, I suppose, rattled the door several times. Henry got out of bed, took the pistol and went to the door. The next time the door rattled, Henry shot through the door three times. No one was injured, although from the position of the bullet holes, I’ll never know why.

Administering the Law

Earlier I spoke of people who did their jobs technically correct but with little common sense. This happens in all fields but it is particularly frustrating when it happens with an officer of the law. It was 1941 and I had just obtained my driving license. I was driving my daddy's model A ford from Warrenton to my home in Macon. I pulled over to the side of the road opposite the service station that I was working part time at and hopped out to go in the station. A high way patrolman passing by, stopped and walked over to the car. I had my new driving license so I wasn’t concerned until he started writing a ticket. I asked him what I had done illegal and he said “your left tire is on the highway”. That ticket would cost me $2.50 or a weeks work in pay. I was highly irritated and told my daddy. He simply asked me if it was against the law to park with a wheel touching the road. I told him yes, but it was just touching the road and no traffic anyway. He dismissed the conversation with “if you break the law you pay”. I paid and vowed never to get caught again. It taught me a valuable lesson but I still maintain common sense was not used. A year later, four of us boys with our dates were coming from Norlina to Warrenton in Jeannie Alford's car. Jeannie asked me to drive and I obliged. I didn’t know the condition of his car, having never driven it and didn’t give it any thought. Just as we were pulling into Warrenton a high way patrolman flashed his light for me to pull over. I mashed the brake pedal and nothing happened. There was no brakes on the car and I couldn’t stop. I yelled out the window that I was stopping and started over to the side of the road, working the gears lower to slow the car and finally stuck my foot out the door and slid it on the ground. I finally got the car stopped and got out. The patrolman made me walk a straight line to see if I was drinking alcoholic beverages, which was highly insulting because no one in our group would touch alcohol in any form. I begin to worry about what might be said about a ticket. One of the girls was a ministers daughter, another our family physicians niece and the other two from prominent families. The patrolman by chance was on his first assignment and determined not to miss anything. We were not speeding or breaking any law to begin with, only a routine check, but the lack of brakes started a chain of problems. The patrolman charged me with failing to stop,  faulty brakes, overloaded (eight of us) and then decided to put speeding down also. I had saved fifty dollars to start college and I could see it disappearing fast. Here again is the technically correct person (except I wasn’t speeding) without common sense. I wasn’t about to give up my college fund for something I thought wrong, but I knew my daddy would make me suffer the consequences. Jeanie felt a responsibility, as it was his car without brakes and the others said they would help me if they could. We pooled our resources and came up with less than five dollars ( not counting my saved fifty). Lawyer Overby, who ( I heard) had lost his license as an attorney, was our best bet for advice. After we had given Lawyer Overby all of the facts he told us that he could speak in our behalf, which was a way of getting around being without a license. Five dollars is all we have, I told Lawyer Overby. He wanted to help us being the type of person that he was and would have done it free. He suggested paying the three dollar fee for requesting a jury and buying him a bottle with two dollars. I wanted a jury of twelve because I couldn’t believe that my thinking could differ that much from the average person and four charges against me was overkill to say the least. Trial date arrived and with it eight nervous individuals. For some reason that I can’t remember, two of the boys were not present. Four girls and Jeanie were there for moral support and to answer any question that they might be asked. The girls sat in the very back and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. I don’t think their parents ever found out. The traffic ticket was produced and the judge asked me how I pled. “Not guilty your honor” I responded as Lawyer Overby had instructed. Lawyer Overby then proceeded to ask the patrolman some questions in a matter of fact voice. I expected something different in the manner that the patrolman was questioned although I don’t know what. Lawyer Overby, in friendly conversational tones, asked ”when did you notice these young people”? The patrolman replied “I followed them all the way from Norlina”. Lawyer Overby  ”Was this very late at night”? Patrolman “No, I left Norlina at 11 PM”. Lawyer Overby “and after giving them the ticket, what happened”? Patrolman “They left for home I suppose”. Lawyer Overby “Did you see any evidence of drinking, loud talk, or misbehavior in any form”? Patrolman “No”. The patrolman was dismissed and Lawyer Overby asked the judge if he would read the time of arrest on the ticket. The Judge responded with 11.06 P.M. Lawyer Overby turned to the jury and begin speaking. He told the jury that here, by the patrolman's own words, were a group of well behaved teen agers. The driver was in a vehicle that he had no way of knowing that the brakes were faulty. Furthermore the brakes couldn’t be too dangerous because he let them continue on. As to speeding, according to the patrolman who followed the youths, they left Norlina at 11 O’clock and arrived in Warrenton at 11.06 as written on the ticket. If you figure 4 miles in 6 minutes you will see that they were well under the speed limit. The jury didn’t take ten minutes to find me innocent on all counts, but as we were leaving the court room the jury foreman said to me “be careful son, the next time you may not have a jury that knows you”. The patrolman’s name was Barnhart and he was an exceptionally nice person. We discussed this episode over coffee years later and he remembered every detail as this had been his first assignment. He conceded that he should have used common sense, such as having us go fix the brakes and forgetting it. Now I had occasion to observe legal procedures in Macon one summer. This took place at West End (My brother in-laws place). West end was just over the edge of Macon corporate limits and sold beer. It was a favorite place for the boozers on week ends and we averaged one fight a week during the year I worked there. The fights were usually fist fights that were forgotten by Monday morning. This particular fight was a little worse and involved an outsider from New York. There was the usual group of locals hanging out that afternoon when a car pulled into the service station and a black fellow came in. He was a stranger so everyone perked up their ears to learn something about him. He related that he was from New York City, making it sound like there was no other meaningful place. Kemp Billings was standing beside the counter flipping his good luck penny as usual when the fellow turned toward him and said “Loan me a quarter for the juke box”. “I’m sorry fellow, I’m broke”. Kemp told him. “ You’re not broke” The New Yorker said accusingly. “ Are you calling me a liar” Kemp asked, aroused. “ If that ain’t money you’re flipping, then what is it” the New Yorker returned. “Don’t get smart with me fellow” Kemp said. “ I do what I please when I please” rejoined the New Yorker. This fellow had a chip on his shoulder and was looking for trouble. He was a tall big black man while Kemp was short and much smaller. The New Yorker was a great deal larger and younger than Kemp and probably thought Kemp would back down, but I knew better, I did and slid behind the counter just as Ken broke a bottle over the fellows head. June Summers, a big lovable black guy grabbed the man and pulled him out of the door. After they left, Kemp went out to his car and was sitting in the front seat, cooling off , I guess, when this car came by going slow. Kemp ducked down in the car just as some one in the other car blasted the windows out of Ken’s car with a shot gun. The car then pulled along side Kemp’s car and stopped. It was the New Yorker, returned with help. They bounded out of the car and proceeded to drag Kemp from his car. One of the blacks held Kemp’s arms by his side while the other was punching him in the head. I saw Kemp’s hand slide in his pocket and come out with a switch blade knife. Even though his arms were pinned somewhat to his side, he still managed to reach behind the fellows back and stick the knife in. He didn’t pull the knife out until he had sliced all the way down the man’s back. The fellow just slumped to the ground. Kemp’s brother arrived about that time and with June Sommer s help, succeeded in stopping the fight. The fellow that was cut took out a warrant for Kemp and court was arranged to be held at West End service station and billiard hall. On the night of the hearing the judge arrived by Taxi from Warrenton (seemingly drunk). Every one entered the pool hall. Billiard balls were cleared from the table and everyone sat their beer down. The judge lay his papers on the pool table. “ Hear yea, hear yea, the honorable judge Lawson presiding’. Said by the fellow who had accompanied him down. “ All rise and be sworn in” he continued. Every one pushed their drinks aside and stood. “ Hold your right hand up instructed the judge.“ “Do you all solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth”. asked the judge. He then went through a series of questions before declaring a 12 dollar fine for anyone who was there that day including June who had stopped the fight. June just looked disgusted and said “there goes my Christmas money”.

Barn Raising (and Barn Lowering)

In emergencies you could count on your neighbors, in a country community. One year a tobacco crop was ripening at a faster than usual rate and barns were not numerous enough to house it. Papa decided that we had to have another barn, which neighbors could use also in emergencies if needed. All neighbors for miles around showed up for the barn raising. Every one was put to work at the job which suited him best. It was my job to skin the bark off of long pine poles. These would be used for tier poles. Tier poles are spaced in the barn to hold the sticks of tobacco and are spaced to allow air to circulate between the leaves. Others cut pine trees for logs, some hewed the logs while others put them in place. After the structure was up, mud was dubbed between the cracks and my uncle Wallace built the furnace. Uncle Wallace was fun loving and never had a worry, which worried my daddy considerably. When uncle Wallace did decide to do something you could count on it being the best, so papa asked uncle Wallace to build the furnace. I helped by carrying brick for him and stirring the mortar. He explained to me that a furnace not built right could catch the barn on fire and burn down with the tobacco in it. Eventually it was finished and we all stood back to admire it. The barn was a fine piece of work and would hold 700 sticks of tobacco. The following day was Saturday. Henry and I wanted to go to the movies but papa said to replant the corn in the field back of the barn. Every one else had gone over to the town of Warrenton to shop, leaving Henry and I alone. " How longer will it take us to finish replanting this corn" Henry asked. " Long enough that we want see the movie" I said. We had been working for quite a while and Henry stopped, raising his head " Do you smell something" He asked. " It's that old dead mule over in the woods there" I replied. " How long do you think it will take for them buzzards to eat him." Henry wondered. " I don't know. I heard that a buzzard have to stop and jump into the air before they can fly". Did you know That'? I asked. "No, wonder if we could catch one before he jumped" Henry grinned. " If you could sneak up real close, then rush him, I'll bet that he would be so surprised that you could grab him". I smiled at the thought. " Let's try it. Won't every body be surprised when when they get home and find that we've caught an old buzzard" Henry remarked excitedly. We finally dropped our hoes and slipped down through the bushes. We saw a number of buzzards and they were engrossed in eating. We stopped and laid out our plans, which was to keep the trees between us and the buzzards until we got as close as possible, then we would both rush the nearest buzzard. Creeping along from tree to tree we were with in a few feet of the buzzards. I looked at Henry and signaled go and we rushed that buzzard. We caught him just as he squatted to fly. Now we had him, but after a little discussion we couldn't figure out what to do with him. Where would we keep him until every one returned from Warrenton? It was then that Henry remembered the dynamite,  which had been used to blow up stumps. We went to the pack house and got a half of stick of the dynamite and a fuse. This was getting to be more fun every minute. Now we had the buzzard and dynamite back at the new barn site, we proceeded to prepare for the big event. " Now you hold his feet and his head. Don't let him get his head close to me or he will upchuck all over me" Henry instructed. " Oh, I have him tight, tie the dynamite on his leg" I said. " How long should I make the fuse"? Henry asked. " Well, make it a little short so it will blow when he gets over the tree tops" I suggested. After an interval of wrapping and tying Henry announced. " OK, he want have to squat and jump this time, we'll throw him up". laughed Henry. We both grabbed hold of the buzzard and at the count of three we flung him into the air. The buzzard took off, flapped it’s wings a half dozen times and lit on the top corner of the barn. "She-u-u" we yelled and commenced to throw rocks at him. The old buzzard just ducked his head. Then I thought "short fuse". "Run Henry, run, the dynamite is fixing to blow". I yelled. We took off running and had just made it around the corner of the other barn when it exploded. We peered cautiously around the corner of the barn with a sinking feeling. About half the top corner of the barn was gone. The rest of the afternoon as we replanted the corn, we searched for some excuse or possible natural disaster, that could have caused it. In the end we agreed that there was no believable story that we could come up with. Needless to say, it was a long afternoon.

Leaving The Nest

Papa gave each of us boys a little piece of tobacco land for our money crop the last year that I stayed at home. I worked the farm during the week and on week ends, I worked at the service station. My grand father had talked to me a lot about my ancestors. They were land owners and teachers for the most part and the same applied on my mothers side of the family. Her grand father had been the old family physician for the area. I was determined to get a good education and I knew that I would have to make and save money. My brother Henry worked hard on the farm during the week but played on week ends and papa always gave him a little spending money as he didn’t have a part time job. At the end of the year our tobacco crop sold for 100 dollars. Papa gave Henry 50 dollars and me 50 dollars. I thought that Henry would have to pay back the spending money that he received all summer but he didn’t. At the time I didn’t think it right but now I realize that it was. It was papa’s money to spend as he saw fit. I decided then that I had to make money faster and told papa that I was leaving to look for another job. We were all sitting at the tobacco plant bed picking grass that day and when I told papa, no one looked up or spoke. Papa waited a minute then said “all right son, but remember if you make your bed hard you will have to sleep on it.” I left immediately and walked to Macon which was about two and a half miles. I caught a ride to Warrenton and started looking for a job. Mr. Pritchard gave me a job washing cars and waxing them. I got one bedroom with a cold water sink for ten dollars a month. This wasn’t as bad as it sounds if you adjust your needs. I would draw a sink of water in the morning and leave it. At night when I returned, the water would be at room temperature for a bath. I washed my clothes on my days off and folded them neatly under the mattress to iron them. I watched my budget carefully but food cost was hurting my savings. After checking around a bit, I found that I could work at the little bus station ice cream parlor for the same money and eat all I wanted. I gave notice and changed jobs. Here I not only could save all but ten dollars a month, but I ate some magnificent ice cream sundaes. My money just wasn’t building up fast enough to suit me so I decided to join the air corps and make some real money. Off to Langley field Virginia, for the air corps I went, with never a doubt that I would be accepted. I passed everything with flying colors until I came to the eye test. I have excellent eye sight, in fact better than average but the instructor said that I couldn’t be accepted.  ”Something has to be explained to me”  I said bitterly. Being a nice fellow, he pulled out the eye charts again and asked me to read the numbers. This was easy and I did it as fast as he could turn the pages. " Have you ever seen a japanese color blind chart before'? he asked, stopping his page turning. ” Not before today” I said. “This is a color blind chart and you are color blind” he informed me. “I’m sorry, but that is just how it is.” This was the first thing that I had ever failed at and it bothered me.

Off To College

After the Langley field episode I decided to try to get in college and work my way through. My aunt lived in Elon College and had gone to college there, so I figured she could tell me what to do. After arriving at Elon College and explaining the situation to sister (we called my aunt sister because papa called her that) she had her husband less, take me over for an interview. It was told to the administrator that I had a little money and was willing to work if given a chance. Then he offered to let me live at his house, which was only two blocks from the campus. This was very generous of him and the college official was very impressed. I was admitted on the spot and at last I was on my way. I returned home and gathered my few clothes and moved into my aunts house. It was nice living there because they had running water and in door bath rooms. My aunt was a stickler for neatness. My bed had to be made and the room cleaned before breakfast. My aunt had two children, Betty Jean and Jonathan. On saturday it was the job of Betty Jean and I to clean the house. Betty Jean was in high school at this time and some years younger than I but we got along real well. She taught me to roller-skate and some times I roller-skated with her and her friends. Jonathan was 5 or six years old and very spoiled. He was totally unpredictable and we were afraid to take him with us anywhere. On one occasion Betty’s father took us to a ball game, along with Jonathan (we called him LW). On the way to the ball park LW jerked the hat from his fathers head and through it out the window. We stopped the car and went back to retrieve it, but a vehicle had run over it and it would never look the same again. After we got settled on a seat in the stadium, less went out and got us a pepsi cola each. We were watching the game and having a big time when LW did the unpredictable again. He took his empty Pepsi bottle and for no apparent reason hit the bottle on the mans head that was sitting on the seat in front of him. That took a lot of explaining by LW’s father to prevent a fight right there in the bleachers. We didn’t watch the rest of the game, just got up and went home. The first job that the college gave me was chipping out metal scales in a huge boiler. This was the month of August and temperatures in the boiler reached 120 degrees at times. This was a test, I decided later, to find out if I was really serious about college. They needn’t have bothered. I would have scrubbed the devils back to stay in college. When I wasn’t working at the college I helped with the work at the orphanage, where Less was manager of the farm. The only little problem was my eating. Sister placed a plate with two eggs, toast and a slice of bacon on my plate each morning and I was used to eating more. Too embarrassed to ask her to prepare more, I was getting up from the table hungry every morning. Then I thought about the girls at the orphanage getting up at 5:30 every morning to prepare breakfast for all of the other children. I decided that this might be away of getting more food. I slept in a bedroom on the back of the house with a window about three feet from the ground, so I could wake early, slide out of the window and go up to the “old Building”, where the older girls prepared breakfast, and eat with them. One morning I over slept and one of the girls brought my breakfast down to me. As she was trying to wake me, Less woke up and saw her. He kidded me about it, thinking that romance was involved. I couldn’t tell him any different with out some embarrassment to sister so I went along with his joke.

Barbering

I was outside the Babies Home one afternoon and an opportunity presented itself to make some money. Dr. Johnson, Superintendent of the orphanage, had an office here. I overheard him say that he had to get the boys hair cut soon. Dr. Johnson was a saint on earth. He would slip money from his desk drawer and give to children for special needs. He was also very absent minded or a better way to say this, is to say that he was planning so far ahead that he forgot the present. “Dr. Johnson “I said “I will cut those boys hair for you at 5 cents a head and you won’t have to worry about carrying them to a barber shop.” “Good, Good “ he replied “that seems like a reasonable solution.” I had never cut hair in my life but it didn’t look hard so I thought that I could manage. Well, I cut the boys hair until one day we decided to put a “V” for victory in one of the boys hair. V for victory signs were very popular at this time. I carefully shaved a “V’ from back to front in his hair, right down to the skin. A little controversy arose from this and I didn’t cut any more hair. I never got paid because Dr. Johnson had forgotten all about it. Dr. Johnson was so forgetful that when he got out of his car each morning, we watched to see what he would forget. He would at different times forget either to turn off the motor, or put the brake on or close the car door. One day while parking on an incline, he forgot the brake and the car rolled down the hill into the pond behind the orphanage. It was pulled out with the tractor, washed off and left in the sun to dry. No harm seemed to have come as a result. The brick college wall, across from the post office, where Dr. Johnson picked up his mail, still has pock marks from Dr. Johnson's car bumper. He would pull into the post office and when leaving would back up until the bumper hit the brick wall before driving away. People remarked that Dr. Johnson parked by ear and not sight. Some years later Dr. Johnson died. A minister named Truett was given the job of superintendent and things were never the same again. It was decided that having a dairy and farm was not cost worthy and so all of it was discontinued. This of course took away the routine of working the farm and running the dairy by the orphanage boys. Little consideration was given to the training and discipline that the farm afforded the children, was my thoughts, but it did make it much easier for the administrative staff.

Orphanage Living

I spent one year living with my aunt, whose house sat on the orphanage grounds. This was my first year of college. I had an opportunity to see what orphans did and felt although I couldn’t experience their actual emotions. In my mind I am certain that they were better off in the orphanage than shuffled around in foster homes. Yet a certain loneliness prevails in an orphan that is different from children with families. It is a will of the wisp type thing that is hard to describe, if not impossible, but it is as real as any material thing. It has nothing to do with having adequate clothes, food and shelter. It is more obvious on holidays, especially Christmas. Just before Christmas holidays, a little girl will approach you bright eyed and elated to tell you that her mother is coming to see her Christmas. Back in the circle of children a little boy will dig his toe in the dirt and focus his eyes on the ground in silence. This little boy has no parents, and no one will visit him Christmas. I have seen children whose parent or relative visited once a year on Christmas and still the child would look forward to the single visit for weeks. This parent would come in with a flourish, give the child a present and within an hour start talking about having to leave for some other appointment. They had salved their guilt and wanted to be on their way. There were others with children in the orphanage because they had no choice. Teenage marriage and a despicable husband who would desert them, or children from parents killed in an automobile crash were reasons given to place children in the orphanage. My heart always went out to the little ones who had no one that would visit them on holidays, and no one, they felt, that they belonged to. There was a peculiar sense of honesty among the orphanage children. They had a code of ethics, although they never thought of it as such. Before Christmas they would have a list of Christmas presents to give to selected ones. Not many gifts nor expensive ones but carefully selected on a personal basis. The boys would tie their pants cuffs tight at the bottom and shop lift these selected presents, dropping them in their pants legs to get them out of the store. No other time of the years would they consider stealing anything. It was only done at Christmas and never for anything that they would keep. I believe that most of the store personal knew of this and understood. I have seen store personal watch them steal an article, smile and turn their head. This was truly Christmas spirit. I never thought it right but I could understand their predicament. They wanted to celebrate Christmas like everyone else but had no money for gifts and no way of earning any. All children had assigned chores and responsibilities that gave them a disciplined routine. Three buildings housed all of the children with each building having a house mother who was responsible for the children and the building. There was the baby home, with the smallest children, another building with intermediate ages and the “Old” building with the teenagers. The older girls (teenagers still) who were responsible for cooking, got up at 5:30 in the morning to prepare the food. After breakfast everything had to be cleaned and put away before going to school. The girls would alternate weeks for cooking. At this time the farm was still used and the boys got up at 5:30 to milk the cows and deliver the milk to Rock Creek Dairy, after keeping what was needed for the orphanage children. I would get up and help with this work before going to my classes at college. My grades suffered that first year, with helping in the afternoon and early morning work, I didn’t have enough time to prepare my home work. Food was raised on the farm by the orphanage boys and canned in one gallon cans at the “Old” building. Every one participated in the canning. Most of the food used at the orphanage was raised by the boys on the farm and done with a certain amount of pride. Some children had brothers and sisters and being of different ages, stayed in different buildings. They would visit back and forth and all play together on the grassy lawn in the summer. There was still the classification town children and orphanage children applied in the public schools or where ever the children were exposed. They were constantly reminded that they were orphanage children. It was not derogatory, or meant to be offensive but rather wanting to know where they lived, but it was still a reminder.

World War II

It was 1943 and I was approaching the age to go into service. I had been turned down for pilots training at Langley Field earlier due to being color blind so I decided to take the Navy. When I went to enlist I had to provide proof of age and I discovered that there was no record of my birth. I had to get witnesses to attest to my age and birth date before joining. I had a golden opportunity to choose my age but I didn’t think of it at the time. My purpose in joining the navy, although an equally dangerous service, was because I would have a dry bed to sleep in at night and hot food to eat. There was never a thought about whether I should go to war for my country, merely in what capacity. Great great great grand fathers on both sides of my family had fought in the Revolutionary war. William Bowden as an older soldier while Thomas Hilliard was only about 15 at the time. In the Civil War, great great grand father John Hilliard had sent three sons to fight for the confederacy (Thomas Dandridge Hilliard, John Hilliard and William Hilliard) and only one ( John) had returned alive. Now in this World War two my father would send 4 of his sons. I joined the navy and was sent to boot camp for training at Bainbridge Maryland. We arrived in Maryland by train, which being my first train ride, I thoroughly enjoyed. On arriving we were taken to a large drill hall for physical examinations. We formed a long line, was instructed to remove all clothing and place them in a pile. A medic then passed down the line marking a red number on each persons arm. As we walked through the drill hall we passed an eye chart which we read, then a cold stethoscope was laid on our chest and last, a fellow held up a watch and asked if we could hear it. Some boys said no but they were passed on through anyway, which I didn’t understand at the time. Later I was told that it was only necessary to hear the question. The most amazing part came next when we received our clothes. Size of shoes clothes etc. was not mentioned. You placed your foot on a line, the fellow looked you over and immediately gave you your full clothing outfit, including shoes. I don’t know about the other men but mine fit. We were then assigned to our barracks and met the person who would steer us through boot camp. You know they are very picky about how you store your clothes and make the bed. Everything, and I do mean everything, is stored in a certain place. You are not allowed anything extra either. The bed making was not too difficult. The mattress was thin enough that you could drop it in a cover ( that served as the bottom sheet) then tie the two strings at the end of the mattress. There was no top sheet. You just slept under the blanket. The blanket and pillow had to be a certain way however and all beds had to look the same. This arrangement was good in some ways as it cut down on washing. The mattress was simply turned over at the end of the week and you had another week on the clean side. The hair cut came the next day. I don’t think that a barber was used to cut the hair, certainly not a hair stylist. You sat down in the chair and the fellow made a half dozen passes across your head with a pair of clippers and you were through. No hair was left to comb and your head felt like Number 80 sand paper. It was cold, snowy and the mess hall was a quarter mile away. We were up before dawn each morning, cleaning barracks until they gleamed, and marching with wooden guns made to look exactly like the real thing. There was a shortage of guns and wood was used to simulate steel guns. I was told that this was done to make it appear to the spies that we had plenty of weapons. Some other things didn't make sense either. Like me standing in the rain with a wooden rifle guarding a clothes line that had no clothes and my buddy across the way guarding an empty garbage can which we had polished until you could see your reflection in it. We were not allowed to put trash in it because it had to be shiny for inspections. Boys were complaining on all sides about how tough boot camp was while I was actually enjoying it. Having grown up with no running water and outhouses, this was almost a luxury. In fact, on Sundays when the boys were given time off, Herndon and I went out to play on the obstacle course. Herndon was a newly made friend in the same company. He also had trouble getting in the navy due to age. He was only 15 but his aunt signed the papers as 17, so he was admitted. We completed boot camp and were given a battery of tests to determine what niche we would fit the best. They made me take the I.Q. Test twice. I guess with my North Carolina-Virginia accent it was hard for them to believe that I could read. I scored 180 both times so they let me go. I didn’t put much stock in the test but it was required. They placed me in the medical corps, which was what I wanted anyway, because I had been premed. in college. Then they shipped us off to Camp Perry, Virginia. Camp Perry was between Richmond and Williamsburg, Va. Captain Perry was head of the base and I asked if he was responsible for the base being named Perry, which was the same as his name. I was told that Captain Perry owned the land that the base stood on and had leased it to the government. It was further told that he also raised turnips on the land, used the boots to farm the land and sold the turnips back to the government. This was told to me and I don’t know if it was fact or not, but I do know that we ate turnips morning, noon and night during turnip season. I haven’t eat any turnips since. I was intent on learning as much as possible about medicine while in service and studied every book they gave me. My rank went rapidly from S/2c, to S1/c, to HA/2c, to HA 1/c then Phm/3c and last Phm 2/c. After finishing some more books and tests I was offered another promotion. With this rank I would be placed in an administrative position, so I turned it down. This didn’t please administration, but I told them that I wanted to work with patients in order to learn more medicine. They accepted the explanation and I went on a kind of rotating cycle. Working on each specialty until I had learned what I could before moving to another. On one of these latter rotations I was in a field infirmary away from the main base. A Commander headed this operation, who was a physician with a longing to be a medical professor. This was an ordeal but I learned more here than any other rotation. The Commander drank some and slept late because he stayed up late every night teaching me. We were both getting what we wanted except I was being short changed on sleep. I would see all of the patients, diagnose and prescribe for them before the commander awakened. At night the Commander would review my reports and teach. I did minor surgery, including chest taps for pneumonia patients and lumbar punctures for suspected spinal meningitis. I did surgery on cysts and put drains in with sulfa drugs to control infections. I was lucky that I never had any complications. This would be unheard of in today's medicine and I agree that I over stepped my qualifications. My last rotation was a mental ward under Dr. Greenburg. He was an exceptional physician who paid no attention to rank or protocol. His only interest was helping the patient. At this time we were getting patients back from the battle field and couldn’t keep up with the work. Dr. Greenburg in an effort to shorten the time for helping them, started using hypnosis. He was getting helpful information much faster this way although I don’t believe that it was recognized as an acceptable method at this time. He taught me the art of hypnosis and I would help him to move things along more rapidly. We had some pitiful, yet funny patients. A huge black fellow, muscular in build and a fine physical specimen, thought that he was Clark Gable. He was always wanting to give us his autograph. Another Spanish type man was completely normal, until bedtime arrived. Before going to bed you had to accompany him over the entire ward, looking under every bed and in all closets. He was afraid that the devil was hiding somewhere in the ward waiting for him to go to sleep. Dr. Greenburg attributed this to a mental trauma that he had received in childhood over a conflict in religion. He was born of catholic parents but protestant foster parents helped rear him. Oh yes, we had a politician too. Every one, including the patients knew not to engage in any political talks with this fellow. If political discussions were started, this fellow would listen shortly before jumping on the nearest table, waving his hands and shouting elect me, elect me. He would then proceed to tell you how rotten those other politicians were until he became completely irrational and we would have to restrain him and cart him off to his room. Now I wondered about some of these patients. Being placed in the mental ward meant that you would definitely not be shipped out to the battle areas. One such fellow that brought questions to my mind had back pains and was all hunched over as a result. We had x-rayed and run every test, that we could think of, and found no evidence or reason for the pain physically. I asked Dr. Greenburg if he could be faking it, but Dr. Greenburg said no. He said that the pain was as real to him as any caused organically. On this particular case he used hypnosis and thought that he had found the problem. Under hypnosis, this boy could stand upright with out pain and seemed normal. Dr. Greenburg would always return him to his previous state before waking him. While under hypnosis, Dr. Greenburg would make the boy reverse the years back to childhood and check to see what went on during those years. It seems that this boy had a never do well uncle who never worked. Whenever this uncle was faced with a job offer, he complained of back pains and got around working. This boy with the back pains was pretty sharp and I suppose knew that the uncle was faking. Anyway, when this boy was faced with orders to go to a battle area, as Dr. Greenburg put it, he had two choices. He could refuse and be court martially or go and possibly be killed. He could not take either choice so his subconscious mind remembered the uncle and used that as a reason not to go. This sounded pretty reasonable, the way Dr. Greenburg explained it, but then I would get alone and think about it. I always believed that there is some chemical malfunction that causes mental illness and some day will be treated with replacements of the chemical or some correction. I never could get into the mental end of medicine and became more frustrated so I took night duty on a mental ward to rest up. Night duty meant sitting in a ward, locked from the outside with a marine guard at each door, and doing nothing all night. It was a boring tour so we started playing penny ante poker, which was all right with the night nurses. The nurses only served one 30 night tour a year so they didn’t pay too much attention. Things were pretty restful for several months. We even got some sleep at night and went swimming during the day with some of the nurses. Some of the nurses were even fun. A pretty blond nurse used to sing a song for us at night. I don't remember the song but I remember the phrase "water, cool clear water". Moneyhan, one of my coworkers, had an Irish tenor voice and would sing along with her. Nurses came and went at the end of their 30 day tour. Trouble did come though unexpectedly. We had received a new nurse that night, a lieutenant commander. We were in the middle of a card game when she approached us. “You can’t play cards on my ward”. She said “O.K. we will finish this hand and quit”. McKee replied. We had our money bet and laying on the table and wanted time enough to sort out whose money was whose. Well she just reached down, grabbed the table and turned it up side down, spilling cards and money all over the floor. The four of us playing were buddies on liberty, work and had been together for some time. McKee was from Texas and was half McKee Indian. Herndon was from the coal mining area of Virginia and Daniel Francis Moneyhan (The third) was from Massachusetts. We were pretty well diversified from our homes but of one accord about that nurse. McKee said ”Herndon, you grab her head and you Hilliard, grab her feet”. I guess we didn’t need Moneyhan, as he didn’t help. We lay her across the bed, fanny up, and McKee spanked her good with a clip board. The spanking was hard enough to sting but not bruise, or really hurt her. It was like the spanking a child used to receive. The next morning I was awakened by a tap on the shoulder. When I opened my eyes an S.P. (Shore Patrol or equivalent of an army M.P.) stood by my bunk. ”Your name Hilliard“ he asked. I said “Yes, what do you want”. I replied  "Dress and come with me. He said. After I dressed we went to Captain Perry’s office and he sat me on a bench out side the office. McKee and Herndon were already there waiting on the bench. In a few minutes my name was called to go in to see Captain Perry. I walked in, saluted and stood at attention. He sat and studied me for a few minutes, but I wouldn’t budge a muscle. Finally he asked ”Did you take part in the assault on the Lieutenant Commander”? Well, I wouldn’t consider it an assault but the question called for a yes or no, so I answered “yes sir”. “Do you know the seriousness of striking an officer” Captain Perry questioned. “No sir” I replied but I’m sure it was wrong”. He sat, waiting again but I still didn’t move a muscle.” " All right", he said, "give me the story and don’t leave out any details.”  I carefully explained how we were on night duty, that it was a lock ward with no medications to give nor patient treatments to attend. The work was very boring and we played cards to stay awake and pass the time. After explaining that this practice had been going on as long as I knew and I didn’t know that it was wrong, I told him that I had thought her act was directed at us personally. Had I known that I was doing something wrong, I would never have even thought of helping retaliate. “Are you now sorry that you assisted”, Captain Perry asked”?  I answered, ”I’m sorry that I broke a navy rule sir, but I’m not sorry she got a spanking.” “Dismissed” said Captain Perry. Saluting and doing an about face I marched out. The timing was perfect because I don’t think I could have stood much longer at attention with out moving. McKee went in next and was out in just a few minutes, only he was escorted by an S. P. and taken to the brig where he was locked up. Herndon was then called and he to was escorted out by an S. P. and locked up. McKee would stand Summary Court Marshall, loosing three ranks as a result. Several times I visited him in the brig, in a small room, where he was not allowed to touch the walls or sit down during the day. I carried him four quarters and he would practice twirling the quarters in one hand, twirling them with his fingers to pass the time. At his Court Marshall, neither of us had an opportunity to say anything, although it wouldn’t have made any difference. The proceedings were mechanical and sentence pronounced. Herndon didn’t have to go through the ordeal of a trial as the Captain just assigned him 30 days in the brig. He was to get bread and water only, with a meal every third day. Herndon was only 15 years old at the time and had a wonderful personality. He ended up with the guards slipping full meals every day in addition to the bread and water. Guards actually slipped him out of the brig and took him fishing. To Herndon it was like everything else, a lark. McKee had been suffering from battle exposure and lost his composure, resulting in a stiffer punishment. When McKee was released, his father came up from Texas and took we four to Richmond for a fun weekend. McKee's father was an oil man, wore brown leather boots and a 10 gallon Stetson hat. He really knew how to show us a good time. Williamsburg, Virginia was off limits to all service men except the portion of the drug store that sold prescriptions. William and Mary College was also off limits. There was a sailor in our barracks that dated a William And Mary college girl and we asked him how he accomplished it. We were told that a letter was needed from her parents and two letters of recommendation from responsible people such as his minister. We promptly dismissed the idea. Herndon and I went into Williamsburg one Sunday to look around although we couldn’t go into any public place. Circling the historic palace, we climbed up and peered over the brick wall. A nice lady in colonial dress called us and told us to come around to the gate, which we did. She said, ”I’ll give you a tour and no one will bother you because you will be with me.” We had a better tour and food than the paying customers ever got. Although, that was the only courtesy ever shown me in Williamsburg. The next Sunday that we had off, we decided to try our luck again. Getting into Williamsburg, we passed the bicycle rental place and tried to rent a bicycle. They wouldn’t rent to service men, so we continued around the block. After circling the block, Herndon decided that he would go back and try again to rent a bicycle. I knew it would do no good, so I sat down on the curb and waited. After about half an hour I looked up from the curb and to my surprise Herndon was coming down the side walk pushing a bicycle. Figuring he had talked the guy out of it, I climbed on the bicycle with him and we toured Williamsburg. When we were ready to go back to the base, Herndon just lay the bicycle down in the bushes. It was only then that I realized I had ridden all over Williamsburg on a stolen bicycle. Several weeks later the four of us went to the out skirts of Williamsburg, which was not off limits to service men. After getting something to eat, the others begin to drink. Since I never drank, they depended on me to get them back to the base. This night I couldn’t control them and they decided to tell Williamsburg what they thought of not being allowed in the city stores. Knowing there was trouble coming, I left them and went back to the base early. Next morning I was awakened by an S. P. again. Taking me up to the Captains office, I was sat on that bench again. Being marched along by S. P's a little later came Moneyhan, Herndon, and McKee. After I had gone back to the base, the night before, the others had gone up town. Being a little tipsy, they marched up and down main street telling the people what they thought of the rule barring us from public places. It must have been pretty boisterous because the S. Ps locked them all up including the nurses. This time Captain Perry called us all in together. We were told to stand at ease, which I appreciated. He then pulled down a world map, puzzling me no end. Looking at Moneyhan and I, Captain Perry said ”I don’t know why you two were not in on this but I’m going to include you in my decision”  Tapping the map with a little stick, he said “I’m going to divide you onto the four corners of earth. Dismissed.” We received our orders the next day to take place immediately. Herndon was sent to Hawaii, Moneyhan to China, McKee was put back to sea and I was sent to the fleet marines. I went to Camp Lejune, took special training and was assigned to the First Special Marine Force. This training was a lot different from the navy. These guys were really serious and you could get hurt if you didn’t keep your mind on what you were doing. We were trained in how to kill and keep from being killed. I had heard that boys were rushed through training in some camps and ill prepared, but this wasn’t the case here. “You are being trained as special forces to make beach landings and secure a foothold for the army” we were told. “Whether you live or die depends a lot on how well you learn your trade.” That was enough motivation for me. In retrospect I know much of the training was a kind of psychological preparation for us to obey orders without question. Men always trained in pairs because we carried everything that we owned on our back, with each of the pair carrying one half of the pup tent. Naturally it took both parts to set up a tent to sleep in. You were lucky if you drew a compatible team mate. We always seemed to make the longest marches in the worst down pours of rain. When we stopped and set up tent we had to dig trenches around the tent to keep the water from pouring in. We would make a long march, set up in the rain and 30 minutes later be called to pack up and march. Sometimes we would march 100 feet and get a call to fall out and set up tents. You could get to the point where you wanted to kill somebody, anybody. At first a few of the guys tried to out guess them and set up the tent with minor preparations, so as to move easily. After a few tents were blown away in the rain, every one settled down to doing it right every time. You would get so tired that you moved automatically and this is the results that I think they wanted. After training, we were loaded into a plane that had no seats. The entire plane was open and we sat with our gear on the floor. This was my first time on a plane, but I wasn’t concerned because I figured we had good pilots and crew men. We left Camp Lejune, N.C. and gave out of gas somewhere in Georgia. My first flight, and my first thought when the “out of gas” was announced was how far will we have to walk this time. The plane was brought down in an open field and a farmer with tractor drawn tank gave us enough gas to reach the next air field. After refueling at the airfield, we flew for hours. None of us knew where we were going except the pilot, I guess, and this is the way it was most of the time that I was with the out fit. If you didn’t know, you couldn’t tell, was probably the reason. At that age I wasn’t too concerned. On this particular flight we landed on an air strip in Columbia, South America, or that is what we were told. There certainly wasn’t any signs anywhere. After landing, we unloaded what equipment was needed for a field hospital and began to set up camp. The plane was turned around into the wind and left. The place that we camped had no water that I could see but this was solved when we were called to line up and get our water rations. It came from a large barrel and one canteen a day was allotted for each marine. Being the medical person for the company, I was allotted two canteens. The medical corpsman carried two canteens. One for personal use and the other for patients use, which I could never use for myself. This place was very hot during the day and cool at night. One doesn’t realize how precious water is until there is a shortage. We drank sparingly and used one mouthful when brushing our teeth. Just when we felt that we could stand it no more, a dark cloud gathered and a rain storm commenced. We took tents up and held them at the four corners, catching rain, and filling everything that we could find that would hold water. We all stood in the rain, soaking every pore with water and drinking our fill. It was a real celebration. As we started scouting out a ways from camp, we found streams of water so we could replenish our supply. To all of the drinking water, we added iodine before drinking it to kill the bacteria or other contaminants. The taste was not pleasant but no one complained. We lined up for our food rations which were cans of food. One can for each meal and of course you didn’t choose what you got. This was done later by swapping with others, can for can, until you had what tasted best to you. We improvised our meals by cutting tender shoots of plants and mixing with the can of spam (or what ever you had) and water. Then we would take a steel helmet, turned up- right over some hot coals, and make a kind of stew. We had plenty of salt tablets which were given for hot weather and we used these for seasoning. Not having vinegar, we substituted acetic acid from the infirmary supplies. Mid day was so hot that we did nothing but lie under any shade that we could find.

The War Ends

If my life depended on it, I couldn’t tell you the places that we were. They all began to look the same and now seem like a dream, so I’ll skip the war area. I do remember distinctly, keeping up with the number of ships that we were on at different times and the number was five. One ship was said to be a hard luck ship. I never believed in superstitions but we rammed another ship almost head on, the Gun turrets were sheared off and the thick steel twisted like a pretzel. On another ship, returning home, we were caught in a typhoon or some type hurricane, and according to the experts should have sunk. Rudders couldn’t hold the ship in line, so we were tossed at will by the storm. One minute you could look down forty feet to the water and the next minute the water would be forty feet above you. A rope was tied to a sailor in the beginning to retrieve something but they had to reel him in like a fish after he was washed over the side. Strange sounds came from the winds. There would be shrill, high pitched screaming then low moaning as if the ship was sobbing. The waves would slap the sides of the ship as if to keep her awake and on guard. It seemed as if it would never end and then a silence came upon us that almost hurt the ear. An old sailor remarked “We are in the eye now”. Officers checked to assess our damage while sailors scrambled to tighten lines on anything movable. Boilers had been knocked out leaving us with out power. We could only wait while the storm did as it willed with us. Then over the speaker system came the warning, ”here it comes again”. We were in for a wild ride. The ship was thrown high in the water, then slowly turning, sank to the bottom of the trough. Over and over this would be repeated with strange shrieking, followed by moaning and sighing. It was if the winds and waves were joining in an effort to push us beneath the waves. I lay on my bunk with eyes closed and tried to imagine myself in the swing at home under the big maple tree. As long as I concentrated on this I could hold off the sea sickness. My bunk was far beneath the water level normally, but the waves would lift us above the water and outside sounds would be amplified. keep concentrating, I told myself when suddenly the fire alarms sounded. I was alone in the cabin at the time and had crawled on the top bunk. The bunks were 7 high, one above the other and had been lying on the top bunk so I could brace my feet against the ceiling. Braced with feet on the ceiling, back on the bunk and holding the side rails I didn’t roll as much. When the fire alarm sounded I tried to get off the bunk, out of the door and up on deck. I had a chance on deck to abandon ship, but I was too slow. Half way to the door it banged shut and I could hear the wheel locking it securely. I was locked in the bottom of a ship that was on fire and no way out. No one could hear my yells above the storm but I yelled anyway. I lay on the bottom bunk with my ears to the bulkhead and could feel the scurrying of people fighting the fire. Finally the door swung open and a sailor screamed above the wind, “ The fire is out, you can come up if you like”. I pulled myself up the ladder double time and stuck my head up into the cool air. Sea sickness had been completely forgotten. When it seemed that we were helplessly doomed and many accepting it with prayers, it suddenly ended in a dead calm. The storm had hit us off the coast of North Carolina as we headed to Norfolk, Va. Due to the extensive damage we had to turn out to sea and head for Brooklyn, N.Y. It was slow sailing but we eventually limped into the port at Brooklyn. I was supposed to have been mustered out of service six months earlier and here I sat still waiting to get home. I never liked living on a ship. I didn’t like holding my food tray with one hand to prevent it sliding off the table while eating with the other hand. The greasy odors from the galley didn’t help my appetite either. We showered with the salt sea water to conserve fresh water and there was always a white film of salt left on the skin. Since I was the only medical person aboard, I had no other duties, but rarely did anyone get sick. How can you catch anything in the middle of the ocean? For the most part I was bored stiff. There was one emergency however that was worse than being bored. This ship was a troop transport and the bunks were arranged 7 high with chains attached from the bunks to the ceiling. A young marine was lying in his bottom bunk with head hung over the side reading a book. Some how the chain broke or came loose and the metal bunk came crashing down on his nose. Considerable weight was on those bunks as all of the gear from the marines above was stored on the bunks. His nose was crushed. Repairing a nose with that kind of damage required expertise that I didn’t have, but there wasn’t anyone else to do it. After finding an E.E.N.T. book with graphic illustrations, I proceeded to work. Using cotton tips and tongue depressors I reconstructed his nose. After carefully separating the little bones, I slipped cotton tips in and reinforced the outside with tongue depressors. Then I taped the entire structure with tape. Not a pretty job to look at but he would be able to breathe after it healed. It healed perfectly as far as I could tell and he was pleased. I have to admit feeling a great sense of relief after it healed. While the ship lay in dock we had liberty every day. Roaming Brooklyn, touring Coney Island or just riding the subways could kill a lot of time. A nickel got you on the subway and you could ride as long as you liked, which we did. After a couple of weeks of this I was given orders to go to North Carolina to be mustered out. Strangely, I was given a ticket on a 3 day pleasure cruise ship which went out beyond the territorial waters then turned down to North Carolina. If I had known about this ahead of time I would have enjoyed it more. For a couple of days I couldn’t figure out what was going on. Aboard the ship were bars, gambling tables, women with dancing and music. By time I got the hang of what was going on we were there. With everything I owned on my shoulder, I headed for my assigned barracks. Bending over to drop my bag on the bottom bunk I felt a thud across my back from a pillow and looking, saw Herndon sitting on the top bunk laughing. This was impossible. While we had gone into the Navy together and served together for awhile, we had been split up by Captain Perry. Add to this that I was six months late getting out and the odds of us even seeing each other again were almost nil, but the same bunk was too much. There had been four of us, who were inseparable. Liberty together, card playing together etc. and we spanked a nurse who also happened to be a commander. That was when the Captain of the base said  “I am going to break up this little party”. Using a world globe, he had assigned us to the four corners of the earth. “When did you get here, Herndon?” I asked. ”Oh, about an hour ago” Herndon replied. We begin to catch up on our where abouts during the war and I asked if he knew where the other two (McKee and Moneyhan) were. McKee was discharged with battle fatigue, married the girl that tagged around with us in Richmond Va. and returned home to Texas. Moneyhan was killed in China. We were home at last and safe. I thought of all the wars fought to insure our freedom and the men who died. More tragic to me were the ones left behind. The wives and children who one day were family, with hopes and plans for the future, and the next day a family split by death with an unknown future. Our first war to gain freedom was the Revolutionary War. I had two great great grand fathers to fight in this war which left 7200 Americans killed and 8200 wounded. If the war diseases and exposure to the elements was included it would be 8200 dead. After our freedom was gained, 9 out of 10 Americans owned land in America. In England only 1 of 10 owned land. Our next war was called the Mexican War in which the United States offered 15 million dollars for what is now south western united States. Mexico refused and a war was fought with the United States winning and then paying 15 million dollars compensation for the property. The War began April 25,1846 and ended Feb.,1848 with 13,780 Americans killed. The Civil War was the most devastating war ever fought by Americans. History notes that it was fought over slavery which is true, but not the whole truth. The north was concerned about cheap slave labor giving too much competition in the newly formed western states and wanted to make it illegal to own slaves in these states. Abe Lincoln, at one time, proposed sending all slaves back to their homeland to settle the disputes. This, of course got no where. It was far into the war before proposals to ban slavery altogether was sought. My great great grand father, John Hilliard sent three of his sons to war for the confederacy and only one returned alive. The Civil War began April 12,1861 and ended May 26, 1865 with over 600,000 killed. My father and his brothers were too young for World War I and my grand father, not being able to walk were all exempted. Only a great uncle from the family fought in this war, and although gassed with mustard gas at one time, he came home alive. This war resulted in over 10 million deaths. Rules were established following this war on weapons, and treatment of prisoners. Poison gas was specifically banned. World War I was supposed to be the war to end all wars. Well, here we are in World War II. Four of us brothers fought in this war and all came home alive. My older brother, Williard was in the battle area for three years and it is a miracle that he survived. He was in the marines, who usually went in first to secure beach heads etc. When the marines lay in their trenches they would often lay their arm on top of the trench, with the rifle ready, then peep up occasionally. Williard had two watches shot from his arm in this manner. Mack was in the army and fought in Germany. He was given medals at the Rhine for driving a jeep across a mine field to rescue a couple of officers then driving back across in the same wheel tracks. I ( Charles Albert) started out in the Navy, was put in the medical corp and transferred to the First Special Marine Brigade. Williard and I were in the same camp part of the time, but I never suffered the hardships that Williard did. My younger brother (Henry) was on an air craft carrier and a big one at that. They played soft ball on the deck for recreation when not in the war zone. This war cost us 405,399 troops of which 78,976 were reported missing. Korean War: Two brothers served in this war. ( Perry and Ralph). Perry returned unscathed but Ralph still has shrapnel in his neck from a grenade. It couldn’t be removed on the field and later he chose not to have surgery as it didn’t bother him that much. This war cost us 54,246 soldiers lives. Vietnam War: The most misunderstood of all wars, and it’s soldiers the least appreciated. It was a war of nerves, fighting an enemy that you couldn’t see most of the time, in terrain that was the most uncomfortable imaginable, with tricks and treachery on hand at every turn. It was devastating to the mental facilities. We lost 58,000 troops in this war of which 2,504 were listed as missing in action. Some of those are still believed to be held in captivity. Many of those who did return are plagued with flash backs in memory of horrible experiences that make it hard to live a normal life. Getting back to Herndon and I our new found freedom from military service, we discussed what we had been through the last couple of years and decided to see a little of what we had been fighting for. We would just bum around sight seeing for a couple of weeks or months before settling down to our life's work.

More Freedom

When we signed up and entered service, we had gone from the watchful eyes of our parents to the even more strict armed forces. Now we were out and felt really free for the first time. No hard and fast plans for travel were made although Herndon wanted to visit his mother in Norton, Va. He hadn't seen her in a couple of years, so we headed there first. Each of us had a little duffel bag containing all of our worldly possessions. Still in our uniforms (we didn't have any other clothes), we sat on our duffel bag along side the road and held up our thumbs for rides. People were patriotic and rides were plentiful. Herndon was opposed to riding in cars without radios, but we did, so as not to offend them. Arriving in Norton, Va., we went directly to his mothers and surprised her. She didn't know Herndon was in the states. I had carried a small camera all during service and made pictures of landings etc. which interested his family tremendously. At about 2 am, tired and sleepy, we put the pictures back in my duffel bag and went to bed. "Herndon, Herndon, Come and get your breakfast" his mother called about 9 am the next morning. Herndon bounced out of bed and beckoned me to hurry. I could tell who was still boss in that house. A big breakfast of pancakes and eggs sat on the table, with fatback meat cooked real crisp. Since Herndon was in his house, I was letting him decide what to do for the day and was surprised when he said" finish up Hilliard, I got a couple of girls for you to meet." Finishing breakfast, we walked down to a bus stop and waited for the bus. "How long you known these girls Herndon" I asked. "Oh, three or four years, but I haven't seen them in over two years" Herndon replied. " What do they look like" I asked. "Pretty as little speckled puppies" said Herndon. I was getting the feeling that it was a run around. He had got me a blind date once before in Richmond, Va. with a girl so buck toothed that you couldn't see her bottom lip. " How old are these speckled puppies that you know Herndon? "I pursued. "I will just have to figure up a little" Herndon replied. After a little thought he said" They would be about 16 now". The bus driver interrupted with" End of the line boys, I turn around here". We picked up our duffel bags and stepped out of the bus. The bus backed up, turned, and headed back from whence we came. We were standing at the foot of a mountain and there was nothing man made as far as the eye could see. "You sure you know where you are"? I questioned. "Sure, there's a little path right over behind that bush. We take that straight up the mountain, " He instructed. The path was rather scenic, winding around rock then coursing alongside a broad stream and finally a steady climb , we have been walking for an hour and all I see is nature. "Are you sure some one lives back here," I asked. Turning off the path to a big flat rock, he sat down and started pulling off his shoes. Looking up at me he said "Pull off your shoes and put them over behind this rock with mine until we get back". I just stood there looking at him. Poor old Herndon had finally lost it if he thought I was going barefoot up that snake trail. "Come on, pull off your shoes Hilliard. If we go up there with shoes on they will think we are uppity and it will ruin everything.“ Just around the corner and we will be there"  he said. I sat down beside him and pulled my shoes off, carefully stuffing a sock in each shoe. I didn't want to leave room in those shoes for any varmints. Sure enough, around the bend in the path sat the house and on the porch sat two pretty girls between an elderly man and women. I figured them to be the parents. The house kind of blended in with nature. Mountain rock had been used up about six feet then heavy logs were used as the foundation for lighter logs that made up the sides. It looked real solid and homey. The elderly lady was puffing on a pipe. They were all barefooted so Herndon had been right about the shoes. The elderly man had on overalls while the women and two daughters had on dresses. I'm sure our bare milky white feet didn't fool anybody though as theirs were tanned and callused. "Come on up and sit a spell. We saw you half an hour ago on the path below but it was to far to tell who you were" the old man remarked. Herndon and I had stopped for bath room privileges on the path so we wouldn't have to use the outhouse after we arrived. I wondered if they had seen us. "Ain't you that Herndon kid that used to come up here in the summer?"  The elderly man asked."  Yes sir, and this is my friend Hilliard" Herndon answered. The old man continued "You ain’t been around for a couple of years. You been sick or something"? . "No sir. I have been in service and just got back" Herndon replied. The elderly lady interrupted  "Now Zekial, you heard about that war going on. They was fighting over some island and that's why he has on those funny clothes. Ain't that right Herndon" Out of long practiced habit, she reached over the rail behind her, with her eyes never leaving Herndon, and knocked the ashes out of her pipe. The old man was not to be sidetracked "You fight in those nice clothes? Man I want the oldest clothes I got, to fight in." The girls were watching their mother and one of them wrinkled her nose a couple of times. The old lady immediately placed a hand on her husbands knee and looking at Herndon said  "Herndon, you all must be hot and thirsty from that sun. Girls, take them down to the spring for some cool water". The spring was down the hill, around a little curve and in a shaded secluded spot. After getting a drink, we sat down below the spring and started getting acquainted. In fact we spent the entire afternoon there in the cool woods talking. I sat with my girl apart from Herndon across the creek, within sight but not in hearing distance. My date for this occasion was named Alma. We sat on a wide flat rock, worn smooth and clean from hundreds of years of weather. Alma was young but a very serious girl. She sat with a foot outstretched so that she could lift the green moss on the ground at our feet with her toe. "Where are you from Hilliard?" Alma asked while studying my face. I replied "Warren County, North Carolina" "What's it like there?" she asked. "Mostly flat with small hills. I was raised on a farm. A tobacco farm to be more exact. "I replied. In a rush she continued "No mountains? Are you going back and farm?"  I had to consider this for a moment before replying, "I'll tell you what I want to do but things don't always work out the way you want. I want to return to college where I left off , finish, and then go to medical school”. "Now it was my turn to be curious. "What are you going to do with your life?" She carefully uprooted a piece of moss with her toe, picked it up between the toes of her other foot and stacked it neatly atop the undisturbed moss. Lifting her eyes to watch my face and a finger pointed at the moss, she said "It won't grow there. It has to have roots to grow. My roots are these mountains and I would like to keep them, but girls don't have choices like boys, so I don't know what will come. I want to be educated, marry a smart man and still live in these mountains, but I don't think it will ever happen." Without thinking I asked "If you had to make a choice between the mountains and a good man living some other place, which would you choose?" She answered "I would take my mountains and change the man"  I guess women are the same world over. We had to leave before dark to find our way down the mountain, so just before dark we bid the girls good bye at the steps and started the long walk back. I guess I could never find the place again but I still remember the beautiful simplicity of the setting.