A weekend with Dad

When my Mom and Dad visit from Walsenburg for the weekend, I usually plan a small project for Dad and I, because like me he can't sit still and we can get some quality time together. Last weekend I had him paint a used topper I bought for the truck. He's 87 now, but he remains the family auto painter, ever since he painted my '68 bug black in '78. He also still holds his own when he helps me frame, trim and tile.


A B-25 flew over the house and it brought back some memories of World War II, so I pressed him to get some more stories. Seems he was sleeping in a tent when 30 B-25's flew over high as the trees, sucking all the air out of the tent!


Dad enlisted in the Army Air Corps in 1942 in an effort to head of his eventual draft, so he could have his choice of which division. He had a fascination with airplanes but had poor eyesight, so he knew they wouldn't take him in flight school. He thought he was an ideal candidate for working on airplanes, but just like the Army they stuck him in radio school. He kept falling asleep during class so that ended that. The logic of the Army was twisted for Dad-get everyone up a 4 a.m. and then expect them to stay awake all day. He was stationed mostly in the south at first, mostly North Carolina where he was in one of the first units to try integrating with African Americans, some of whom would eventually join the Tuskegee Airmen. He was then shipped to New Guinea where they lost his papers and he wound up being a cook.


Dad always said the best way to see socialism is to be in the Army, where everyone gets their one job to do, and they don't make waves and sit tight so they won't have to work more than they have to. He also said whenever they ran out of things to do they just marched. If they weren't marching they were sitting in some mile long line to get a gas mask or something. Dad always had a good BS radar, so he didn't always go with the crowd. He didn't smoke so he sold his cigarettes and saved his money for when he had furloughs and then he would travel. Usually on foot. He was often amazed that the Army did so well because from where he stood it was a total disaster. He was and still is angry at Roosevelt for locking up the Japanese, and he always questioned Truman's decision to drop the bomb on Japan.


Being from Chicago he never experienced the type of racism that was in the south at the time, and it surprised him. Many of his bunk mates refused to even stay in the same barracks with blacks, and when a black couple was heading toward him in the street they would stand aside until he passed. Just like Dad, from then on if he saw them coming he would cross the street ahead of time so they wouldn't have to move.


His journey overseas was on board a destroyer, a month long trip much like a sardine can with rationed water and bunks only 24 inches apart. He remembers every time there was a dark cloud approaching the guys all got naked and stood there waiting for the rain (their only chance for a shower) just to have the ship turn away from the cloud at the last minute. This was because they had to zig-zag in order to elude enemy submarines. Dad was sure the captain had it in for all of them.



A cook in the Army overseas meant you get what you get and you better make the most of it. Sometimes they would get endless piles of dehydrated meat and he would have to make different types of meals with the same stuff over and over. The guys got pretty tired of it, but after a while Dad got good at hiding what was really inside. After the Army he owned a small bakery with his buddy in Georgia, but it never made any money, and after that he never cooked again. He'll make a sandwich now and then, but he won't cook.

It's always great to hear those old stories, especially the hilarious way he tells them, and I've done my best to sneak the video camera in when he's not looking. Dad has never bought that 'greatest generation' thing. He's always said that the just did what they had to do. He remembers huge anti-war protests in Soldiers field at the time, but he knew the storm that was coming, and that there was no way America could have stayed out of it.

Though I know it won't last forever, I still feel incredibly blessed that Dad is still around (Mom is still here too, but she'll be another blog) so I'm soaking up all that I can.