A BOOK OUTLINING MY LIFE EXPERIENCES
TABLE OF CONTENTS
- TABLE OF CONTENTS
Saturday, December 31, 2005
2. PREFACE
In October, 2004 while a patient in Danville Regional Medical Center, a friend of mine, Linda Walker, suggested that I record my life’s experiences for my grandchildren and their children. This is a feeble attempt to do that and I trust they and others will enjoy this effort. Any salacious details that come to mind will not be recorded in this book.Pictured herewith are my three wonderful grandchildren to whom this book is dedicated. They are: Seth Langston Dillard at age 6, Caleb Denver Dillard at age 4 and Luke Scott Dillard at age 2.
In addition to the grandchildren, I also want to dedicate this writing to my wonderful children, Beverly Leigh Dillard, Blain Alan Dillard, his wife, Lori and my devoted wife of 56 years, Barbara Wilkinson Dillard. They have all been a great inspiration to me over the years for which I am most appreciative.
Friday, December 30, 2005
3. INTRODUCTION
Since nothing written about Schoolfield or my early life would be complete without a full description of Schoolfield and how it came to be. I will attempt to describe that portion of my life here and now.
Schoolfield is a cotton mill town that was built to house the thousands of employees that would be necessary to run the thousands of looms, carding machines and others needed to make cotton cloth. These houses were built in the late 1890s and/or the early 1900s. I am not sure exactly when but know it was a well built community and the structures would last several lifetimes.
It is said that Dan River’s first choice was Milton N. C. for the mill and housing construction. It was voted down, however, by the Milton town council due to the noise factor that would emanate from the thousands of machines necessary to the manufacturing process. At that time, Milton had approximately 500 residents. Today, they probably have less than a thousand. Just think, without that town council vote, Danville could very well be the size of Milton and Milton the size of Danville. I was informed recently by a Milton resident that the town council has not changed; they still will not permit any industry that makes noise.
The mill houses were built to provide low cost living quarters for the many farmers and mountain people the company needed to attract and lure to the city if they were to be successful in running a profitable enterprise for their many stock holders. This was an excellent plan and that is the reason my parents and many others came to live in Schoolfield.
The houses were segregated according to ones qualifications and the responsibilities one would assume. Example: If you had no experience and would come in as a trainee, you would be housed most likely on Pelham, Lee. Jackson, Stuart or Harrison Streets. These consisted of two to six-room houses and dependant on the size of a particular family would determine which house on which street a family would be quartered. On the other hand, should someone qualify for supervisory status, then that family would be housed, probably on Bishop or Park Avenue. Then there was the “Upper Crust”, they would be housed in much more luxurious quarters, more than likely not in the Mill Village.
I feel that is an adequate description of the housing accommodations and will go into more detail regarding other aspects further in this writing.
I am including here several photos of Dan River Mills as well as other properties owned by them and built for the exclusive use of their employees. Our entire family as well as all our friends took full advantage of these entities.
Dan River Mills Number One Gate. This entrance to the Dan River Schoolfield Division was the most used. It was one of six entrances to
this Division.
Main plant of Riverside division located on the Dan River in downtown Danville.
Pictured here is one of the groups of stores provided. This section includes Schoolfield Lunch, the Dan River outlet store and others. It once included a drug store, hardware store, barbershop, shoe shop and grocery store as well as others.
Pictured here is what was once the Y. M. C. A. and Schoolfield Theatre. My entire family used these on a regular basis.
Pictured here is what was known as Hylton Hall. It was initially used as a housing facility for Dan River employees but was turned into offices sometime in the late 1940s or early 1950s.
Schoolfield is a cotton mill town that was built to house the thousands of employees that would be necessary to run the thousands of looms, carding machines and others needed to make cotton cloth. These houses were built in the late 1890s and/or the early 1900s. I am not sure exactly when but know it was a well built community and the structures would last several lifetimes.
It is said that Dan River’s first choice was Milton N. C. for the mill and housing construction. It was voted down, however, by the Milton town council due to the noise factor that would emanate from the thousands of machines necessary to the manufacturing process. At that time, Milton had approximately 500 residents. Today, they probably have less than a thousand. Just think, without that town council vote, Danville could very well be the size of Milton and Milton the size of Danville. I was informed recently by a Milton resident that the town council has not changed; they still will not permit any industry that makes noise.
The mill houses were built to provide low cost living quarters for the many farmers and mountain people the company needed to attract and lure to the city if they were to be successful in running a profitable enterprise for their many stock holders. This was an excellent plan and that is the reason my parents and many others came to live in Schoolfield.
The houses were segregated according to ones qualifications and the responsibilities one would assume. Example: If you had no experience and would come in as a trainee, you would be housed most likely on Pelham, Lee. Jackson, Stuart or Harrison Streets. These consisted of two to six-room houses and dependant on the size of a particular family would determine which house on which street a family would be quartered. On the other hand, should someone qualify for supervisory status, then that family would be housed, probably on Bishop or Park Avenue. Then there was the “Upper Crust”, they would be housed in much more luxurious quarters, more than likely not in the Mill Village.
I feel that is an adequate description of the housing accommodations and will go into more detail regarding other aspects further in this writing.
I am including here several photos of Dan River Mills as well as other properties owned by them and built for the exclusive use of their employees. Our entire family as well as all our friends took full advantage of these entities.
Dan River Mills Number One Gate. This entrance to the Dan River Schoolfield Division was the most used. It was one of six entrances tothis Division.
Main plant of Riverside division located on the Dan River in downtown Danville.
Pictured here is one of the groups of stores provided. This section includes Schoolfield Lunch, the Dan River outlet store and others. It once included a drug store, hardware store, barbershop, shoe shop and grocery store as well as others.
Pictured here is what was once the Y. M. C. A. and Schoolfield Theatre. My entire family used these on a regular basis.Pictured here is what was known as Hylton Hall. It was initially used as a housing facility for Dan River employees but was turned into offices sometime in the late 1940s or early 1950s.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
4. MY BIRTH PLACE
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| My Birth Home |
I was born in the two-room house pictured above on July 14, 1927. As you might imagine, several changes have been made over the years, however the basic structure is the same although additional space has been added.
Already living there was my Mom, my Dad, my sister Edith who was two at the time and my brother Robert who was four. One might ask how five people could sleep in a two-room house and my answer would have to be, I have no idea and cannot remember back that far. I sense, however that my parents had very few skills and no influence whatsoever for such a large family to wind up in a two room house. I just barely remember living there since we moved when I was about five or six. I do know we had a happy family with few luxuries. No, make that no luxuries. The amazing thing is that we actually had overnight guests in that two-room house. I do not recall how or where they slept but I do recall having them.
During these times, Doctors made house calls, so I was delivered by Doctor Henry Jerome Langston and as a matter of fact was named after him. He was our family Doctor until the day he died. I remember my Mother would pay him $1.00 each week and did so as long as I could remember. I have heard that when he died, all of Mom’s debt was cancelled. What a tribute to a great person. Try finding one of those Doctors today. It is impossible to do so.
The first thing I recall about my birth house was one night the police came and arrested one of my Dad’s sons by a previous marriage, I cannot recall the name of the son or the reason for the arrest but recall he was hiding in a very small closet when they found him. I could not have been more than 3 or 4 years of age at the time.
Already living there was my Mom, my Dad, my sister Edith who was two at the time and my brother Robert who was four. One might ask how five people could sleep in a two-room house and my answer would have to be, I have no idea and cannot remember back that far. I sense, however that my parents had very few skills and no influence whatsoever for such a large family to wind up in a two room house. I just barely remember living there since we moved when I was about five or six. I do know we had a happy family with few luxuries. No, make that no luxuries. The amazing thing is that we actually had overnight guests in that two-room house. I do not recall how or where they slept but I do recall having them.
During these times, Doctors made house calls, so I was delivered by Doctor Henry Jerome Langston and as a matter of fact was named after him. He was our family Doctor until the day he died. I remember my Mother would pay him $1.00 each week and did so as long as I could remember. I have heard that when he died, all of Mom’s debt was cancelled. What a tribute to a great person. Try finding one of those Doctors today. It is impossible to do so.
The first thing I recall about my birth house was one night the police came and arrested one of my Dad’s sons by a previous marriage, I cannot recall the name of the son or the reason for the arrest but recall he was hiding in a very small closet when they found him. I could not have been more than 3 or 4 years of age at the time.
Henry at age 3
To clarify the jumbled mess surrounding my family tree, I will state right here some things I never understood and probably never will. I never in my lifetime heard of my Dad’s parents, nor do I ever recall seeing or meeting them. I only know that he had five sons and two daughters, Geneva and May. The sons who would be my half brothers, I knew quite well over the years, although we rarely associated with one another. The son’s names are Presley, Carl, Doc, Howard, and Elbert. I can barely recall Geneva and May, although I do have some slight memory of them. To the best of my knowledge, none of them are alive as of this writing. On my Moms side, she had a son, Robert C. Dixon by a previous marriage. Edith and I always considered him our true whole brother since we were raised together. Robert passed away with a heart attack in the early 1980s.
My birth home, as I stated, was a two-room house. It contained no running water inside nor did it have indoor toilet facilities. Instead, as all the mill houses, it had a toilet, (then known and described as an "Out House"). It was situated 50 feet from the house on the outside. The best thing about all these luxuries was the cost. Dan River Mills charged 25 cents per week per room for their rental houses. [What a deal!] This included electricity, water, painting and repairs as needed, toilet paper that was delivered and thrown into the Out House every two weeks, and of course, cleaning out the toilets approximately every two years. It was easy to predict when the Honey Wagon, as we called it, would arrive since the odor would arrive several weeks prior to the actual clean out. A black man with a bad eye always drove the Honey Wagon. Consequently, we called him “Bad Eye” and he was known by that name throughout Schoolfield. A horse pulled the Honey Wagon. I always pitied that poor horse for having to endure that awful odor every single day. I feel certain it was just as bad for “Bad Eye.”
There were many other advantages to living in a Schoolfield house. The Company provided police and fire protection for free. In addition, they had a coal yard, a department store, a drug store, a movie theatre, and a Y. M. C. A. All these were available at little or no charge, and if a charge was made, it was deducted from one’s paycheck.
During this period of time, most local grocery stores had salesmen and they provided free delivery. It is amazing to think back when our sales representative, Mr. Shumate, would arrive early in the morning and review our grocery needs with Mom. He would mention anything that she might be prone to forget. The order would be delivered the next morning. My only question is how could all this be done on the small amount of money Mom made? I guess that will always be the question, albeit hard to understand.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
5. OUR FIRST MOVE
62 Stuart Ave (now known as Carlson St.)
Sometime around 1932, we had an opportunity to move to another house on what was then Stuart Avenue and was numbered 62. [Pictured above] Since it was twice as large, obviously the rent doubled from 50 Cents per week to $1.00 per week. This seemed to give us so much extra space that Mom started taking in boarders. Most of the boarders were people with whom she was familiar, and many were from her mountain home place in Mouth of Wilson, North Carolina, and Fox, Virginia. This was necessary due to the low wages Mom made, which I recall to be around $8.00 per week.
During this period of time, on Saturdays, I would often sell apples for either Roy Johnson or Charlie Harris. These were two fellows that would go to the mountains each fall and get a load of apples. They would return to Danville and enlist me and others to sell to the ladies-of-the-houses. We carried a ‘peck bucket’ of apples and went door-to-door. The pay for carrying those buckets all day was normally 10 cents or 15 cents depending on how successful we happened to be on that particular day. We would usually stop at some store and get a bologna sandwich and an R. C. Cola for lunch, which was paid for by either Charlie or Roy, depending on who we were working for that day. Each day prior to starting, I would inquire as to the type of apples we were selling that day. On one occasion, I mis-understood the type. When I was told we would be selling Stayman Winesap apples, I understood it to be the same as Winesap. When this one lady ask me the type, I told her I didn't know for sure but they were the same as Winesap. That went over big!
I will always remember Stuart Avenue with fondness. It is difficult to imagine the cinder streets that consisted of coal cinders from Dan River Mills furnaces. I can recall watching them being spread from a Dan River Mills dump truck while some of them were still red with fire. They did, however make good streets for automobiles to roll on, but were not good for bicycles or skates.
There were also excellent sidewalks on each side of the street that were great for skating, a skill I became quite good at. It was once said that I could skate uphill faster than most boys could skate down. I can recall one downhill skate that turned into a disaster. I was skating down one night after dark and skated into an electric pole. I hit it so hard; it was heard from inside our house. Fortunately for me, I was not seriously injured.
Stuart Avenue was a great street. No one locked his or her doors; if you went to visit, you simply walked in. Everyone was friendly and everyone on Stuart knew every one else on that street. Contrast that with today’s environment and you can imagine the vast difference. In today’s world, everyone locks every door and hardly knows their next-door neighbor. What a change for the worse!!
Sometime in the mid 1930s, after we had moved, Mom was really overworked. It was difficult for her to raise three children, work in the Mill and prepare food for the boarders. I once heard her say that she had to have some help, so I set out to find her some. On the way to school one day, I came upon a black woman named Mary Morton who happened to be seeking a job. Times were hard and a lot of people were looking for work doing just about anything that needed doing. I asked her if she needed a job and her response was, “yes.” I gave her our address and she went for an interview with Mom. When I arrived home that day, Mary had a big tub of water boiling in the back yard and was washing clothes. She stayed with us for many years and practically became a member of the family. She was a great cook and as I recall was paid around $2.00 per week plus room and board. I don’t really recall where she slept but do recall she was a great person and a hard worker. I lost touch with her over the years but will never forget her. My sister, Edith, was much closer to Mary than was I and stayed in touch with her much longer. Suffice it to say, we both miss her and will never forget her honesty and integrity, character traits that are absent in similar individuals today.
Polly Dowell, Mary Morton and Lucille Cox. Polly and Lucille were two of Mom’s boarders and were distant relatives. They came from the mountains around Fox, Virginia.Aaron Phipps was my uncle and is now deceased. When he died in he was a Minister of the Gospel. My memories of him include how frightened I was of him as a child. I recall having what my Mom would call a “Dillard Fit.” During a “Dillard Fit,” I would be on the floor kicking and screaming and crying for something I really did not need. Aaron had such a deep rough, sort of scary voice, that if he appeared on the scene during one of these episodes, he would say as forceful as one could imagine, “Boy, get up from there and shut up!” That voice, in that tone, frightened me to death. I would immediately cease crying and kicking and screaming.
Aaron was a big gambler and drinker in those days and usually worked in a grocery store. Later in life, however, he was saved and turned to the ministry and was a wonderful Christian. I have always heard, “the worse the sinner, the better Christian one becomes.” This was certainly accurate in Aaron’s case. During the last years of his life, each time I would see him, he would say, “Isn’t it wonderful to be a Christian?”
Around 1936 or 1937, there was a boy named Jay Moose that lived across the street and two doors down from our house. He always wanted to fight me, but for what reason, I don’t know. I tried to avoid him, in part because I was afraid and in part because I just didn’t like the idea of fighting. It happened that Larry Watlington, who lived next door to me at the time, became an intermediary for Jay and me. Jay visited Larry early one morning and told him he was going to beat the devil out of me and asked Larry to deliver the message to me. Larry woke me up with that message and it made me so angry that I went out and beat the devil out of Jay. The moral to that story is, never wake a sleeping person and garner for a fight.
We fought a lot in those days, though I don’t know why. I suppose it had something to do with the fact that we had little else to do. On the way home from school, I would usually get in a fight just about every day. Should I be fortunate enough to be winning the fight; that would be the day Mom would come by on her way from work, grab me by the ear, and drag me home with catcalls from my opponent calling me a coward for leaving. On the other hand, should I happen to be losing, I would keep looking for Mom to show up and save me and that would be the day she decided to go to town shopping. It was difficult to win with that type of luck.
I did learn one valuable lesson about fighting. There was a boy named Ray Chandler that I would bully on a regular basis. I threatened to beat him up so he would be afraid of me. I chased him every time I got the chance, really for no reason since he was a very nice person. One day I chased him and made the mistake of actually catching him. He proceeded to beat the stuffing out of me by bloodying my nose as well as other places. My Mom went to see his Mom and blessed her out about it. I learned from that event, if you are ever chasing someone you really don’t want to fight, make sure he stays in front of you and never corner him.
In order to feed the boarders and our family, Mom would make about two-dozen fried apple pies during the weekend and would keep them in the icebox for consumption the following week. Once, I was playing with my friend Elwood Dorsett underneath the house. I smelled those pies and proceeded to sneak up to the kitchen to try them out. I took one for me and one for Elwood and they were so delicious I decided it called for two more. After several trips, the pies were gone and as usual, I received a whipping. However, it was worth it, since those pies were so tasty and so great.
Looking back, it seems strange to consider how far we have come in technology. I just mentioned our icebox, which had to have ice. Of the two Ice Companies operating during that time frame, Tudor Ice who was the most popular and Danville Ice and Coal Company provided this service. We used Tudor and the amount of ice delivered was based on an ice card that hung on the front porch. It was “octagon shaped” and had the numbers 25, 50, 75 and 100 on it. If you needed 50 pounds of ice, you turned the card on the nail from which it was hanging so the 50 was at the top. On seeing this, the deliveryman would automatically grab a 50-pound block with his ice tongs and place it in your icebox. What a long way we have come since those days. I don’t recall the exact charges for ice, but I seem to recall that a 50 pound block would cost approximately 15 cents.
On Stuart Avenue, we boys spent most of our time shooting marbles. This was the main sport and was usually started by some boy who carried his marbles in a bag or his pocket. The proper way to get started was to say, “First shot on you.” If the boys were willing, then a circle was drawn in the dirt and one would put in the center the number of marbles they were willing to risk. The one that could shoot the most marbles out of the circle was declared the winner and got to keep the marbles he won. Some boys were so good they sometimes could amass as much as a gallon of marbles.
Playing “hop scotch” consumed most of the girl’s pastime. Of course everyone still knows about that game since it is still popular in most neighborhoods. Boys also enjoyed hopscotch, but it was considered a “sissy game,” so they tried to hide their love for it.
In the early or mid 1930s while at my grandmother’s house in the summer (which became an annual event once school was out), I realized that Claude Kennedy, her husband, was a very mean individual. I recall him kicking horses in the side for the slightest disobedience. He would also make me do the chores that would normally be done by his children, Delbert and Delano. Delano would do anything to get out of work. Once, when I complained to my grandmother that I was being forced to do all their work, she talked to Claude and the next time something needed to be done, he told Delbert to do it, and it was done without comment. However, the next time, when he told Delano, the youngest, to do something, Delano sheepishly said, “Have Henry do it.” What a pain he was. He grew up, and the last I heard was an over the road truck driver.
During the same period, grandma had a 1930 model Chevrolet that was a beauty. It was kept under a shed and had beautiful green corduroy seats. They only bought licenses for it semi-annually. I suppose that was because of the financial situation everyone was in those days. I recall in later years that the car became a mess since they allowed chickens to roost in it. Can you imagine all that chicken manure on those beautiful corduroy seats?
Years later, in the 1950s, I went to check on the car in the hopes of restoring it; however, I found the car to be so rusted and filthy, it was not worth restoration. It was amazing; the filth those people lived in. It was apparently by choice since my uncle, Clarence Kennedy, lived ¼ mile from them with a totally different life style. His house was always clean and one felt good about visiting and eating there. By contrast, at grandma’s, there was always food on the table accompanied by thousands of flies. All the while through meals, one would have to continue swatting them. It was terrible and I am surprised that we survived it
Sometime around the age of six or seven, I decided to start smoking. That was the worst mistake of my life and I feel I am paying for it now as I write this book. I would watch for other smokers to discard their cigarettes and would pick up their “duck,” as it was called, and finish smoking it. I recall one day, my dad had a visitor and they were sitting in the swing on our front porch. Dad’s visitor was smoking and Dad was chewing tobacco.
I was hiding underneath the porch waiting for his visitor to discard his cigarette butt. As I peeked up to see how much longer it might be, my Dad decided to spit out his tobacco and it landed right in my eye. That was probably the worst pain I ever experienced and I had a hard time explaining why I was under the porch and looking up. I obviously couldn't tell about my waiting for the cigarette since no one knew that I smoked. I finally explained it by saying, “I was just playing.” Fortunately for me, Edith was on hand to confirm that I was just playing.
My best friend during this time of my life was my next-door neighbor, Willard Stokes. He was an only child and seemed to have everything that we could not afford. He always had the very best “store bought clothes” while Mom made most of ours. Of course we were envious of him, but always remained best friends. Willard never smoked, but he enjoyed watching me puff away. Often times, he would buy cigarettes for me just so he could observe me smoking. Regretfully, Willard passed away in 2003 in Roman Eagle Nursing Home and for that, I am truly sorry. His wife, Ruby predeceased him by about two years.
Willard’s parents, Grady and Belle Stokes were the greatest. Since Mom worked all the time, they would make sure that Edith and I had the proper clothing on each day for school and they were very caring people.
Edith and me in the mid to late 30s
Edith and I were instructed by Mom to share the household chores. I would usually wind up doing very little by talking Edith into doing both our shares. For example, we were supposed to take turns washing the dishes after Mom left for work. I would convince Edith it was her turn when really it was mine. After arguing awhile, I would say; “Let's just start over; you do it this time and I’ll do it next.” That worked every time I tried it.
Around 1935, Dad had an accident while working in the Mill. A shuttle from a loom flew out and hit him in the stomach. He had some sort of disagreement with the Mill and was discharged. He then became a “stay at home Mom” and did the cleaning and cooking. He could make the best biscuits I ever remember eating. I will never forget the wonderful breakfasts he would prepare consisting of hot brown biscuits, lots of eggs over light and sausage with lots of milk gravy. He was such a great cook!
He was extremely jealous of Mom and they argued and fussed continuously. It was very frustrating for both Edith and I. It finally ended when I was eleven and Mom called Dad’s oldest son, Pressley, to come and get him. Dad wound up working at Clark’s Dairy in Ringgold and had a small one-room house for living quarters. Carl, another son of his also worked there and lived in a larger house with his family. Each summer for two or three years, I would catch the train to Ringgold for 10 cents and visit him for a few days. Dad passed away in the mid fifties at the age of 75. I regret the fact that I did not visit him as I should have, nor did I contact him, as a son should. I guess we just grew apart due to the circumstances surrounding his and Mom’s problems, which were very unfortunate.
Edith, Robert and I were very close throughout this period of time and on up through our early teens. We covered for each other and each had a loving respect for one another. My Dad really believed in corporal punishment, at least as far as I was concerned. I was the recipient of most of Dad’s wrath through daily whippings, many of which were very severe and harmful to me. He would never touch Robert since Robert was not his son.
At that time, he would never whip Edith because at an early age he had whipped her to the point he was fearful for her health and did not want to risk a calamity by doing her severe harm. That left only me to beat up on and he did that in good fashion. I must admit, most of it was justified, but not to the extent I was punished. One day I received 15 whippings. He would often chase me up and down Stuart Avenue and when I would tire him out from running, he would make Edith chase me. She would run after me while yelling, “Run faster Henry so I can’t catch you.”
One of my memories includes my friends and me going up to the railroad track and making faces at the hobos. This would cause them to throw clumps of coal at us, which we would gather up and take home for our laundry heater to keep us warm.
One day Elwood Dorsett, one of my very good friends and I were playing together and were in Edith’s room snooping as we liked to do. I looked in her little cedar chest and observed a dime in there. I picked it up and then put it back. We left to ride our homemade wagon down the street. We coasted all the way to the small bridge leading to Merchant’s Dairy in Newtown that is now known as Edgewood. As we crossed the bridge, with Elwood driving the wagon and me riding behind, I heard Edith yell from our back porch for me to bring her dime back.
When I responded that I did not get it, Elwood said, “Yes you did, Henry, here it is on the wagon where it fell from your pocket.” I knew then that he had taken the dime and was now afraid and was blaming it on me. Because of this, I received a tremendous whipping for something I did not do. My opinion of Elwood changed dramatically, although we still remained friends for many years. Elwood passed away at an early age for causes
I do not know; I think he was around age 40.Henry playing cowboy
Most everyone in these days listened to the Lone Ranger on the radio, since there was no such thing as television. The program was very exciting and kept everyone that listened in suspense. I was no exception and was a loyal fan of the Lone Ranger and Tonto, his friendly Indian companion, as well as his sturdy steed, Silver. Merita Bakeries sponsored the entire program. They did everything possible to make it a huge success.
One gimmick they used was a Lone Ranger club membership. To join, you were required to mail in a certain number of Merita bread wrappers and for this they would send you a membership kit that consisted of a secret code, a Lone Ranger mask and several other items to promote Merita bread and the Lone Ranger. It was a good program that gave kids something to do during a time and in an environment with really little to do. It would be nice if today’s children could have similar programs rather than all the many expensive toys they have access to in today’s world.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
6. ON TO WEST END SCHOOL AND SCHOOLFIELD HIGH SCHOOL
I will never forget my first day at school. I was frightened and cried continuously. I was so fortunate to have such a beautiful and loving teacher by the name of Mildred Slayton. She sat me up in the window and let me look out until I got over my fears. I will never forget her for being so kind to me that one day. Over the years, we developed a true friendship as she was getting promoted through the school system and finally became the Principle of Schoolfield High School. She passed away in 2002 and sadly, never married. What a loss that was to some potentially lucky man.
While at West End, which was located where the Schoolfield Hardee's is now located, I always looked forward to recess. Several of my pals and I would sneak over into the woods and roll some cigarettes from a Golden Grange cigarette rolling machine. This was a machine that one could order through the mail, and as I recall, cost about 25 cents. We would, after using it, wrap it carefully and bury it in a secret place. To my knowledge, it is still buried there, but is now covered by a Kroger Super Market so it would be difficult to locate.
West End was a great elementary school and we all loved it very much. It had many great and wonderful teachers whom I will forever be grateful for all they did for me.
Edith, as a child was considered a very beautiful young lady. She was my favorite person in the whole wide world as we were growing up. One of her very best friends was Doris Adkins. Doris’s brother, Ray, was one of my very best friends. On one occasion, Edith, Doris and I had been to the Schoolfield Theatre and when leaving they noticed a lady and were trying to determine whether or not she was wearing a wig. Doris suggested that I run up to her and give her hair a tug to determine if their thoughts might be correct. I ran up to the woman and gave her hair a big tug and lo and behold, it was her original hair. Out of sheer fright, I started running and ran until I got home.
Ray Adkins and I lost touch during our late teens, but I found that his career led him to work for the North Carolina Highway Department as an engineer. He died in the 70s after being mugged, beaten and robbed while giving a seminar in Fayetteville. I did not know about it at the time, although I lived in Fayetteville. I did attend his funeral, which was at his hometown of Durham, N. C.
Doris passed away in the spring of 2005 in a nursing home in Martinsville, Virginia. She was pre-deceased by her husband, Charles [Bugs] Smith.
After seven years at West End, I entered Schoolfield High. At that time, rather than being grades nine through twelve, high school began at grade eight and ended with grade eleven.
After completion of grades through eight, I became embroiled in an argument with my “shop teacher,” Mr. Hill. He sent me to the principal for reprimand, and I was suspended for several days. I took this as an opportunity to convince my Mom that I would be of more use to the family if I dropped out and went to work as my brother Robert had done a couple of years previous. She, finally, reluctantly agreed, and I set out to make my fortune by getting a job in a local restaurant washing dishes. I washed an average of 50 tubs of dishes per day for $3.00 per week. That was my first bad business decision, but it really taught me the meaning of hard work. Although the pay was low, so were prices. Hot dogs sold for the low price of five cents each or six for 25 cents. Hamburgers sold for 10 cents each and in most places 3 for 25 cents.
It was difficult to find time to enjoy the few things we had while having to wash all those dishes. I did begin to give Mom some money to help out, as Robert had been doing for several years. The only difference was that I would talk Mom out of more than I would contribute each week. I never will understand how Mom made it on the small amount of money available, but she did a wonderful job and we will forever be grateful for that.
During this time period, my Mom married Fred W. Lee. He was a boarder of one of our neighbors and worked in the weave room of Dan River Mills. He was a wonderful person and while trying to court Mom, he would always bring Edith and me candy.
We thought it was quite funny at the time that he talked so loudly. He was accustomed to it due to the loud noise in the weave room. If a person has not been in a weave room, they cannot imagine the noise decibels in there. We always called Fred Lee, Mr. Lee since he was a kind and generous man that commanded the respect of everyone that met him. He was from an area near Winston Salem, N. C., and never learned to drive a vehicle. He was, however, responsible for our family having its first automobile, which was a 1933 Dodge. It was a beauty; dark blue with spare tires in each front fender. It was a real classic. I did not know that Mr. Lee had decided to take driving lessons until one day I was on the way to Dan River to clean the spindles on Mom’s carding machines and saw our beautiful car being towed in by a wrecker truck. I told Mom and she called to learn that Mr. Lee had arranged with a friend of ours, Bill Plaster, to give him driving lessons. Mr. Lee drove it 50 feet and rolled it over in a ditch. That was his first and only attempt to drive. Mr. Lee passed away in the early 50s and was sorely missed by everyone who knew him.
Pictured is a replica of the first automobile our family owned, a 1933 Dodge.
After the Dodge was wrecked, it was time for another car, and this time Mom chose a 1937 green Studebaker four-door sedan. It, too, was a beauty. Mom cared so much for this car that she had Dan River build us a garage. For this, they charged 50 cents per week which made our total rent $1.50 per week.
After we had driven the Studebaker for a couple of years, I decided it needed a fresh paint job to re-new the ‘sparkle’ we had become accustomed to. After pleading with Mom and getting her permission, I bought what was advertised as the very best paint that would never show a brush mark. This was a “new” product that was supposed to be exclusive to L. Herman’s Department Store. I began the painting one afternoon and darkness fell when I was about one half complete. After continuing the next day, I realized what a foolish mistake I had made. It showed up two tones of green and looked exactly like the Swicegood Funeral Home ambulances. Needless to say, it became the “laughing stock” of the neighborhood
and taught me a great lesson.
Pictured is our second family car, a 1937 Studebaker.
While at West End, which was located where the Schoolfield Hardee's is now located, I always looked forward to recess. Several of my pals and I would sneak over into the woods and roll some cigarettes from a Golden Grange cigarette rolling machine. This was a machine that one could order through the mail, and as I recall, cost about 25 cents. We would, after using it, wrap it carefully and bury it in a secret place. To my knowledge, it is still buried there, but is now covered by a Kroger Super Market so it would be difficult to locate.
West End was a great elementary school and we all loved it very much. It had many great and wonderful teachers whom I will forever be grateful for all they did for me.
Edith, as a child was considered a very beautiful young lady. She was my favorite person in the whole wide world as we were growing up. One of her very best friends was Doris Adkins. Doris’s brother, Ray, was one of my very best friends. On one occasion, Edith, Doris and I had been to the Schoolfield Theatre and when leaving they noticed a lady and were trying to determine whether or not she was wearing a wig. Doris suggested that I run up to her and give her hair a tug to determine if their thoughts might be correct. I ran up to the woman and gave her hair a big tug and lo and behold, it was her original hair. Out of sheer fright, I started running and ran until I got home.
Ray Adkins and I lost touch during our late teens, but I found that his career led him to work for the North Carolina Highway Department as an engineer. He died in the 70s after being mugged, beaten and robbed while giving a seminar in Fayetteville. I did not know about it at the time, although I lived in Fayetteville. I did attend his funeral, which was at his hometown of Durham, N. C.
Doris passed away in the spring of 2005 in a nursing home in Martinsville, Virginia. She was pre-deceased by her husband, Charles [Bugs] Smith.
After seven years at West End, I entered Schoolfield High. At that time, rather than being grades nine through twelve, high school began at grade eight and ended with grade eleven.
After completion of grades through eight, I became embroiled in an argument with my “shop teacher,” Mr. Hill. He sent me to the principal for reprimand, and I was suspended for several days. I took this as an opportunity to convince my Mom that I would be of more use to the family if I dropped out and went to work as my brother Robert had done a couple of years previous. She, finally, reluctantly agreed, and I set out to make my fortune by getting a job in a local restaurant washing dishes. I washed an average of 50 tubs of dishes per day for $3.00 per week. That was my first bad business decision, but it really taught me the meaning of hard work. Although the pay was low, so were prices. Hot dogs sold for the low price of five cents each or six for 25 cents. Hamburgers sold for 10 cents each and in most places 3 for 25 cents.
It was difficult to find time to enjoy the few things we had while having to wash all those dishes. I did begin to give Mom some money to help out, as Robert had been doing for several years. The only difference was that I would talk Mom out of more than I would contribute each week. I never will understand how Mom made it on the small amount of money available, but she did a wonderful job and we will forever be grateful for that.
During this time period, my Mom married Fred W. Lee. He was a boarder of one of our neighbors and worked in the weave room of Dan River Mills. He was a wonderful person and while trying to court Mom, he would always bring Edith and me candy.
We thought it was quite funny at the time that he talked so loudly. He was accustomed to it due to the loud noise in the weave room. If a person has not been in a weave room, they cannot imagine the noise decibels in there. We always called Fred Lee, Mr. Lee since he was a kind and generous man that commanded the respect of everyone that met him. He was from an area near Winston Salem, N. C., and never learned to drive a vehicle. He was, however, responsible for our family having its first automobile, which was a 1933 Dodge. It was a beauty; dark blue with spare tires in each front fender. It was a real classic. I did not know that Mr. Lee had decided to take driving lessons until one day I was on the way to Dan River to clean the spindles on Mom’s carding machines and saw our beautiful car being towed in by a wrecker truck. I told Mom and she called to learn that Mr. Lee had arranged with a friend of ours, Bill Plaster, to give him driving lessons. Mr. Lee drove it 50 feet and rolled it over in a ditch. That was his first and only attempt to drive. Mr. Lee passed away in the early 50s and was sorely missed by everyone who knew him.
Pictured is a replica of the first automobile our family owned, a 1933 Dodge.After the Dodge was wrecked, it was time for another car, and this time Mom chose a 1937 green Studebaker four-door sedan. It, too, was a beauty. Mom cared so much for this car that she had Dan River build us a garage. For this, they charged 50 cents per week which made our total rent $1.50 per week.
After we had driven the Studebaker for a couple of years, I decided it needed a fresh paint job to re-new the ‘sparkle’ we had become accustomed to. After pleading with Mom and getting her permission, I bought what was advertised as the very best paint that would never show a brush mark. This was a “new” product that was supposed to be exclusive to L. Herman’s Department Store. I began the painting one afternoon and darkness fell when I was about one half complete. After continuing the next day, I realized what a foolish mistake I had made. It showed up two tones of green and looked exactly like the Swicegood Funeral Home ambulances. Needless to say, it became the “laughing stock” of the neighborhood
and taught me a great lesson.Pictured is our second family car, a 1937 Studebaker.
Monday, December 26, 2005
7. MOVE TO EDGEWOOD
In 1939 Mr. Lee and Mom decided it was time to move out of our mill house and buy our own. They contracted with a Mr. Foster to construct a six-room house on Edgewood Drive for around $2,000.00. This turned out to be great, since for the first time in our life, we had ample room and no boarders. Mom and Mr. Lee shared one bedroom, Edith had her bedroom and Robert and I shared the 3rd one.
I learned the art of driving with friends on their cars. During this period, one could obtain a drivers license at the age of 14 with his parents consent. At the age of 14, I jumped right on it and got that license.
Sometime later Mom helped me purchase a 1929 Model A Ford. As I recall the cost was around $150.00. I would work on it all week using all my spare time in order to run it to death on the weekends. It was a great time in my life. We had little but enjoyed everything we had to the fullest.
Mom at age 40
During this period of time, just about everything was rationed due to the war and its needs. A family gasoline allowance was 3 gallons per week and was controlled by the issuance of stamps that one would apply for at the Ration Board office. A sticker had to be on the windshield of the vehicle to identify the allotment allowance. A large A identified a family sticker. This sticker was the same size as the inspection sticker in use today. If a vehicle was used for business purposes, then it was a B sticker and the allowance was 5 gallons per week dependant on the business requirements.
I learned the art of driving with friends on their cars. During this period, one could obtain a drivers license at the age of 14 with his parents consent. At the age of 14, I jumped right on it and got that license.
Sometime later Mom helped me purchase a 1929 Model A Ford. As I recall the cost was around $150.00. I would work on it all week using all my spare time in order to run it to death on the weekends. It was a great time in my life. We had little but enjoyed everything we had to the fullest.
Mom at age 40
During this period of time, just about everything was rationed due to the war and its needs. A family gasoline allowance was 3 gallons per week and was controlled by the issuance of stamps that one would apply for at the Ration Board office. A sticker had to be on the windshield of the vehicle to identify the allotment allowance. A large A identified a family sticker. This sticker was the same size as the inspection sticker in use today. If a vehicle was used for business purposes, then it was a B sticker and the allowance was 5 gallons per week dependant on the business requirements.
Sunday, December 25, 2005
8. MY SEARCH FOR GREATER THINGS
During my tenure as a dish washer, I would walk to work each day and being a tall, mature-looking individual, was hooted at and called 4-F (short for draft- dodger) by the soldiers and sailors passing by on the trains on their way to war. The draft was in effect and I was two years away from being old enough to even register for it. This was a system that, once you became sixteen, you had to register with the draft board and they would call you when you were needed and when you became old enough for induction into service. It was difficult to wait, but I had no choice.
While working in the restaurant, which happened to be the Midway Lunch, one of my jobs was to check in merchandise that was delivered at the rear door. I will never forget the day that Tommy Earle and Thomas Pruitt were delivering Coca-Colas and I became so impressed with their green uniforms and the little leather bow ties they wore. I asked Tommy if I might get a job at Coca-Cola and he suggested I interview with Mr. Whitehurst, the sales manager. Being 14 at the time and having learned that the minimum age limit for employment there was 15; I quickly decided to lie about my true age and told Mr. Whitehurst I was 15. He wanted proof and in order to provide the proof, I found one of our Bibles with my birth recorded and I carefully altered it to show that I was born in 1926 rather than 1927. He accepted that and I was on my way for a career with Coca- Cola.
I started by feeding the bottle washer, which was called the ‘soaker’. That was one of the dirtiest jobs of my lifetime. The skin between my fingers would actually wear down to the bone. Mr. Joe Hardy, the superintendent that everyone referred to as Mr. Joe would simply wrap some band-aids around my fingers and I just kept on working. During times when there were no bottles to wash, we would spend our time opening and cleaning tin cans that were shipped off to make bottle caps. These cans were collected from various restaurants and were necessary due to the war and the need for the military to use all metals available for ammunition.
Coca-Cola and other soft drinks along with many other things such as shoes, sugar, gasoline, butter and meats, to name a few, were also rationed. There was one exception that made me feel proud and that was Coca-Colas for the military. We had the opportunity of sending a complete semi-trailer load over seas and all the employees were photographed with it prior to departure.
Figure 17 - Coca-Cola shipment from Danville to boys overseas [1943] [Henry Dillard pictured 4th from left]
It was a proud day in my life, especially with my desire to enter the military before the war was over. Prior to this, however, I was to spend a lot of time doing extremely hard work for long hours at a very low wage rate. My starting rate was 30 cents per hour and after six months; I received a 2 cent increase. I don’t recall how many more increases I received, but they were few and far between. The upside of the low pay was the realization that you could work just about all the hours you wanted and received time and one-half for any excess over 40 hours. My pay during this period would usually come to around $18 or $20 per week. I finally became a route man and assumed the responsibility of route number one, which was in downtown Danville, and was without a doubt the hardest one available. I really loved it since I finally had the opportunity of wearing that beautiful green uniform with that sharp looking leather bow tie. As my grandson Seth would say, “I was really cool.”
Although rationing was bad for most people, it did not affect me so much. Since Coca-Colas were rationed, as was gasoline, I worked out a deal with one of my customers, Luther Gibson, who ran an Amoco station on South Main Street. He let me have the gas and I let him have the Coca-Colas. One Saturday, while on the way to Luther’s station to get gas, I ran out of gas one block away and walked the rest of the way. I got 2 gallons in a can and walked back to my A-Model Ford. Since the gas entry is on top of the hood right next to the windshield and I had no funnel, some of the gasoline spilled over and went down on the engine. When I got in and hit the starter the engine caught fire and was spreading fast. I saw a fire alarm on a utility pole and pulled it. Five minutes later there were about four fire trucks, including the hook and ladder wagon and Fire Chief Long who was an acquaintance of mine. They put out the fire and the Chief asked what happened. I told him and he said that it was illegal to buy gas in a can and it was illegal for Luther to sell it to me. This was frightening to me, but he was very kind in not reporting it to anyone else.
He looked at the car that was still smoldering and with all four tires melted from the heat and asked what I intended to do with it? He laughed when I said I would drive it home. I got in the car and sat on the ashes of the seat and cranked it. It sputtered and sputtered, but I drove it home, which was about 5 miles on 4 flat tires, and it sat in the yard until finally I gave it to an automobile junk dealer.
While working in the restaurant, which happened to be the Midway Lunch, one of my jobs was to check in merchandise that was delivered at the rear door. I will never forget the day that Tommy Earle and Thomas Pruitt were delivering Coca-Colas and I became so impressed with their green uniforms and the little leather bow ties they wore. I asked Tommy if I might get a job at Coca-Cola and he suggested I interview with Mr. Whitehurst, the sales manager. Being 14 at the time and having learned that the minimum age limit for employment there was 15; I quickly decided to lie about my true age and told Mr. Whitehurst I was 15. He wanted proof and in order to provide the proof, I found one of our Bibles with my birth recorded and I carefully altered it to show that I was born in 1926 rather than 1927. He accepted that and I was on my way for a career with Coca- Cola.
I started by feeding the bottle washer, which was called the ‘soaker’. That was one of the dirtiest jobs of my lifetime. The skin between my fingers would actually wear down to the bone. Mr. Joe Hardy, the superintendent that everyone referred to as Mr. Joe would simply wrap some band-aids around my fingers and I just kept on working. During times when there were no bottles to wash, we would spend our time opening and cleaning tin cans that were shipped off to make bottle caps. These cans were collected from various restaurants and were necessary due to the war and the need for the military to use all metals available for ammunition.
Coca-Cola and other soft drinks along with many other things such as shoes, sugar, gasoline, butter and meats, to name a few, were also rationed. There was one exception that made me feel proud and that was Coca-Colas for the military. We had the opportunity of sending a complete semi-trailer load over seas and all the employees were photographed with it prior to departure.
Figure 17 - Coca-Cola shipment from Danville to boys overseas [1943] [Henry Dillard pictured 4th from left]
It was a proud day in my life, especially with my desire to enter the military before the war was over. Prior to this, however, I was to spend a lot of time doing extremely hard work for long hours at a very low wage rate. My starting rate was 30 cents per hour and after six months; I received a 2 cent increase. I don’t recall how many more increases I received, but they were few and far between. The upside of the low pay was the realization that you could work just about all the hours you wanted and received time and one-half for any excess over 40 hours. My pay during this period would usually come to around $18 or $20 per week. I finally became a route man and assumed the responsibility of route number one, which was in downtown Danville, and was without a doubt the hardest one available. I really loved it since I finally had the opportunity of wearing that beautiful green uniform with that sharp looking leather bow tie. As my grandson Seth would say, “I was really cool.”
Although rationing was bad for most people, it did not affect me so much. Since Coca-Colas were rationed, as was gasoline, I worked out a deal with one of my customers, Luther Gibson, who ran an Amoco station on South Main Street. He let me have the gas and I let him have the Coca-Colas. One Saturday, while on the way to Luther’s station to get gas, I ran out of gas one block away and walked the rest of the way. I got 2 gallons in a can and walked back to my A-Model Ford. Since the gas entry is on top of the hood right next to the windshield and I had no funnel, some of the gasoline spilled over and went down on the engine. When I got in and hit the starter the engine caught fire and was spreading fast. I saw a fire alarm on a utility pole and pulled it. Five minutes later there were about four fire trucks, including the hook and ladder wagon and Fire Chief Long who was an acquaintance of mine. They put out the fire and the Chief asked what happened. I told him and he said that it was illegal to buy gas in a can and it was illegal for Luther to sell it to me. This was frightening to me, but he was very kind in not reporting it to anyone else.
He looked at the car that was still smoldering and with all four tires melted from the heat and asked what I intended to do with it? He laughed when I said I would drive it home. I got in the car and sat on the ashes of the seat and cranked it. It sputtered and sputtered, but I drove it home, which was about 5 miles on 4 flat tires, and it sat in the yard until finally I gave it to an automobile junk dealer.
Saturday, December 24, 2005
9. IN THE NAVY
In spite of my love for Coca-Cola, I could not get the military out of my mind and was forever seeking ways to enlist prior to the end of the war. As I was approaching the age of 17, I began working on my Mom for her permission to join the Navy. Parental consent was necessary for anyone entering at that age. After finally getting her approval, Wayne Scarce, a fellow employee and I enlisted in the Navy, but did not tell the Coca-Cola officials. We knew they would not like it due to the labor shortage caused by military demands already. We waited until the night before we would catch the bus for Richmond, and I called Mr. Ray, the owner, and told him we had been suddenly summoned to duty and would not be at work the next day. He was furious and used some very profane words that I do not choose to recall, nor do I want to. In any event, we arrived in Richmond the next morning and proceeded with our examination and indoctrination into the U. S. Naval Reserves. When offered the opportunity of going home for 10 days prior to reporting or going on to camp that day, Wayne and I chose the latter and wound up at Camp Peary near Williamsburg, Virginia, that night.
The night prior to my departure for the Navy, I was dating the girl that at that time was the love of my life, Barbara Dellinger. We were sitting in the swing on her porch on East Stokes street pitching woo and at 9:30, her dad came to the door and told her to come in. She said “Okay,” and we continued. At 10:30, he came again and made the same request and got the same answer. We continued and at 11:00, he returned and stated very firmly, “Henry, I mean for you to leave.” I answered, “Yes sir,” and was gone. I might mention that during this time, Barbara was trying to get me to back out of going to the Navy and even said we would marry the next day if I would do so. It was too late of course, but I would not have backed out in any case since it had been my desire for so long to enter.
The next day made me wonder if I had made a mistake in joining the Navy. I had never been subjected to such abuse in my lifetime. The following 12 weeks of basic training would certainly make an impact on my entire future life.
Our Chief Petty Officer was Chief Wooden and he seemed a very caring person when compared with the drill instructors that are portrayed in movies. He would not let that interfere with his getting his company in shape, which he worked at relentlessly.
It was up at the crack of dawn for a quick shower, breakfast, and then the marching. After an hour or so at that, we did calisthenics. We were told that we would feel muscles we didn’t know we had and we discovered the first day that was a true statement. I was so sore that first night after drilling that it was difficult to sleep and even harder to move. That did not interfere with the Navy regulations. However, since the next day was a repeat of the first and continued on until after about a week, the soreness went away and only tiredness was there.
After several weeks we had the opportunity of going to the Army/Navy football game and were told whether to wear our white hats or blue ones, both official Navy issues. We were seated so that, when instructed, we would stand and the color of our caps would spell out “Navy.” This, from the Army side would show up in white letters as “Navy” surrounded by a sea of blue uniforms.
While in boot camp, I met several people I shall always remember. One was Jimmy Ferguson from the Ringgold area. My most vivid memory of him was how he wrote letters to his girl friend, Sarah. Each Sunday, he would write seven letters and number them with a small number so he would know which day to mail it and each day would mail the proper one. The strange thing is he never married her. I lost touch with him after boot camp but will be forever grateful for his parents allowing me to ride home with them in their 1942 Dodge after graduating from boot camp. I did find that he was a rural mail carrier in the Ringgold area.
Wayne Scarce returned to Danville after the war and drove a city bus until retirement. Other than that, I lost touch with him as I did with most of my “boot camp” buddies since most went to different assignments.
One special friend I had in boot camp was James [Red] Grice from La Grange, Georgia. He even came home with me on our ten days leave we were granted prior to shipping out to wherever we would be assigned. I have tried several times over the years to locate him but have been unable to do so. He could have moved from La Grange, passed away, or any number of other possibilities. In any event, I have never been able to track him down.
Another special friend I met in boot camp was W. C. [Buddy] Dickinson. He was my bunkmate [lower bunk], and we became close friends and remained so throughout boot camp. His home was in Newport News, Virginia and after boot camp, he was assigned to a destroyer escort, as I recall, and I did not see him for many years. I will continue with our future relationship later in this book.
After returning from our ten days leave, we all shipped out to different sections of the country or to some ship for duty. I happened to get on a troop train for San Francisco, California. This was a most interesting trip. It was on a train that was designed especially for troops and reminded me of the past when those troops would ride through Danville and yell out the window, “Hey, 4-F! Why aren’t you in the service?” Finally, I was in a position to do the same thing; however, I remembered how those words hurt me, so I refrained from any such yelling. I recall our first stop after leaving Richmond was Clifton Forge, Virginia, and then we continued westward bound on a trip that took 5 days. We went through Reno, Nevada, where the railroad went right down the center of town and even back then, the sign was there declaring Reno to be the “biggest little city in the world!” We passed through Butte, Montana, and snow was about 2 feet deep. We were issued instructions that, under no circumstance could we get off the train. There were several bars and liquor stores within a hundred feet of the train and not a track in the snow when we arrived. When we left, however, the snow was completely messed up by the many tracks made by sailors that violated the ‘stay on board order’. As we crossed the Great Salt Lake in Utah, I mailed a card to myself back home. I have no idea what happened to it, as I have no idea what happened to a lot of my Navy records and materials.
From there, we went to Port Hueneme for combat training. This involved bayonet instructions and was sort of unnerving since I had joined the Navy and had not expected to be fighting with bayonets as the infantry was trained to do. In any event, we had six weeks of it and were put on alert to be shipped out. While on alert, no one was allowed off the base, nor were they allowed to discuss the fact that they had been alerted. Fortunately for me, prior to beginning training, I had some time to explore San Francisco. I decided to begin at the city limits and walk the entire length of Market Street. I had no idea the length of it, but thought it would be something to brag about in the future. I started at the city limits at 5:00 a.m. and walked until 4:00 p.m. and did not get out of the business district. I finally grabbed something to eat and caught the bus back to the base. Even back then, San Francisco was full of gay people. At least five attempted to pick me up. It was really weird.
When my group was put on alert I was posted as guard on the outside perimeter of the fence with instructions not to let anyone enter or leave nor should anyone inside communicate with anyone on the outside. Anyone approaching my duty post was to be challenged and if they refused my orders, I was told to shoot them. Around 11:00 p.m. a car began circling the area and finally came to a stop. A beautiful young lady approached me and I ordered her to halt. She did and I allowed her to approach and identify herself. She did and then asked if I would let her boyfriend who had been let out by the guard previous to me, re-enter. I refused and she pleaded for me to change my mind. I told her to take her car and boy friend and leave or they would both be arrested. She kept on pleading and even showed me the gap in the fence where he had passed through. I simply could not get them in all the trouble they were headed for so I let him in and lucky for me, I didn’t get caught, nor did he or she. As he was going under the fence, I looked back and she was long gone.
 |
| Henry at Age 17 |
The next day made me wonder if I had made a mistake in joining the Navy. I had never been subjected to such abuse in my lifetime. The following 12 weeks of basic training would certainly make an impact on my entire future life.
Our Chief Petty Officer was Chief Wooden and he seemed a very caring person when compared with the drill instructors that are portrayed in movies. He would not let that interfere with his getting his company in shape, which he worked at relentlessly.
It was up at the crack of dawn for a quick shower, breakfast, and then the marching. After an hour or so at that, we did calisthenics. We were told that we would feel muscles we didn’t know we had and we discovered the first day that was a true statement. I was so sore that first night after drilling that it was difficult to sleep and even harder to move. That did not interfere with the Navy regulations. However, since the next day was a repeat of the first and continued on until after about a week, the soreness went away and only tiredness was there.
After several weeks we had the opportunity of going to the Army/Navy football game and were told whether to wear our white hats or blue ones, both official Navy issues. We were seated so that, when instructed, we would stand and the color of our caps would spell out “Navy.” This, from the Army side would show up in white letters as “Navy” surrounded by a sea of blue uniforms.
While in boot camp, I met several people I shall always remember. One was Jimmy Ferguson from the Ringgold area. My most vivid memory of him was how he wrote letters to his girl friend, Sarah. Each Sunday, he would write seven letters and number them with a small number so he would know which day to mail it and each day would mail the proper one. The strange thing is he never married her. I lost touch with him after boot camp but will be forever grateful for his parents allowing me to ride home with them in their 1942 Dodge after graduating from boot camp. I did find that he was a rural mail carrier in the Ringgold area.
Wayne Scarce returned to Danville after the war and drove a city bus until retirement. Other than that, I lost touch with him as I did with most of my “boot camp” buddies since most went to different assignments.
One special friend I had in boot camp was James [Red] Grice from La Grange, Georgia. He even came home with me on our ten days leave we were granted prior to shipping out to wherever we would be assigned. I have tried several times over the years to locate him but have been unable to do so. He could have moved from La Grange, passed away, or any number of other possibilities. In any event, I have never been able to track him down.
Another special friend I met in boot camp was W. C. [Buddy] Dickinson. He was my bunkmate [lower bunk], and we became close friends and remained so throughout boot camp. His home was in Newport News, Virginia and after boot camp, he was assigned to a destroyer escort, as I recall, and I did not see him for many years. I will continue with our future relationship later in this book.
After returning from our ten days leave, we all shipped out to different sections of the country or to some ship for duty. I happened to get on a troop train for San Francisco, California. This was a most interesting trip. It was on a train that was designed especially for troops and reminded me of the past when those troops would ride through Danville and yell out the window, “Hey, 4-F! Why aren’t you in the service?” Finally, I was in a position to do the same thing; however, I remembered how those words hurt me, so I refrained from any such yelling. I recall our first stop after leaving Richmond was Clifton Forge, Virginia, and then we continued westward bound on a trip that took 5 days. We went through Reno, Nevada, where the railroad went right down the center of town and even back then, the sign was there declaring Reno to be the “biggest little city in the world!” We passed through Butte, Montana, and snow was about 2 feet deep. We were issued instructions that, under no circumstance could we get off the train. There were several bars and liquor stores within a hundred feet of the train and not a track in the snow when we arrived. When we left, however, the snow was completely messed up by the many tracks made by sailors that violated the ‘stay on board order’. As we crossed the Great Salt Lake in Utah, I mailed a card to myself back home. I have no idea what happened to it, as I have no idea what happened to a lot of my Navy records and materials.
From there, we went to Port Hueneme for combat training. This involved bayonet instructions and was sort of unnerving since I had joined the Navy and had not expected to be fighting with bayonets as the infantry was trained to do. In any event, we had six weeks of it and were put on alert to be shipped out. While on alert, no one was allowed off the base, nor were they allowed to discuss the fact that they had been alerted. Fortunately for me, prior to beginning training, I had some time to explore San Francisco. I decided to begin at the city limits and walk the entire length of Market Street. I had no idea the length of it, but thought it would be something to brag about in the future. I started at the city limits at 5:00 a.m. and walked until 4:00 p.m. and did not get out of the business district. I finally grabbed something to eat and caught the bus back to the base. Even back then, San Francisco was full of gay people. At least five attempted to pick me up. It was really weird.
When my group was put on alert I was posted as guard on the outside perimeter of the fence with instructions not to let anyone enter or leave nor should anyone inside communicate with anyone on the outside. Anyone approaching my duty post was to be challenged and if they refused my orders, I was told to shoot them. Around 11:00 p.m. a car began circling the area and finally came to a stop. A beautiful young lady approached me and I ordered her to halt. She did and I allowed her to approach and identify herself. She did and then asked if I would let her boyfriend who had been let out by the guard previous to me, re-enter. I refused and she pleaded for me to change my mind. I told her to take her car and boy friend and leave or they would both be arrested. She kept on pleading and even showed me the gap in the fence where he had passed through. I simply could not get them in all the trouble they were headed for so I let him in and lucky for me, I didn’t get caught, nor did he or she. As he was going under the fence, I looked back and she was long gone.
Friday, December 23, 2005
10. OFF TO THE SOUTH PACIFIC
After spending approximately three days in the ‘alert mode’ we boarded a troop transport named the U. S. S. Wharton. It is hard to believe but this ship accommodated 1,500 troops plus crew, which totaled in excess of 1,750 men. Surprisingly, the food was good and the duty light for the troops, but it was a real chore for the crew. We spent the entire trip sleeping, bathing and eating. Our daily schedule consisted of arising at 6:00 a.m., bathing and getting in the chow line for breakfast. After breakfast, we would go to the ‘head’ [bathroom] and then return to the chow line and while seated on the deck, in line, we would play cards until lunch was served. The same routine was for the evening meal as well. The food was not bad for the first few days but then we ran out of fresh eggs and milk. The powdered eggs and powdered milk were just not that tasty. The main obstacle to this schedule was the lack of fresh water for bathing. We could only spend 10 minutes on alternate days bathing in fresh water. We could spend all the time we liked bathing in salt water, which was very unpleasant.
I recall one man named Elrod that simply would not bathe, even in fresh water. We had observed his hands actually turning to a rusted looking state. After warning him several times about how dirty he was, a group of us got together and gave him a G. I. bath. That consisted of a hard scrubbing with a stiff brush in salt water. He never showed up in an unclean manner again.
After a week at sea we arrived at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. It was sad to see the hulls of all those ships that were destroyed by the Japanese sneak attack on December 7, 1941. We sat there in the harbor for six days and were not granted liberty (being allowed to go ashore). Unknown to me at the time was that my brother, Robert, was there. Had I known that, I could possibly have gotten special permission to go ashore to visit him.
After setting sail again, our next stop was the Marshall Islands where we sat for several more days without being allowed off the ship. We then proceeded on to the Caroline Islands for a repeat of sitting for several days without leaving the ship. It was really getting monotonous, staying on that ship all those weeks. Everyone was wondering what our destination was and when we would get there. The scuttlebutt was rampant throughout the ship that we would go here or we would go there, with no one knowing for sure except the top brass.
Our final destination was Samar in the Philippine Islands. Most of the troops, including me, would become attached to Seabee battalions. My assignment was with the 19th Seabees which was 90 % black. Segregation was still legal and in effect throughout the United States although the military was attempting to integrate the armed forces. Since only 10% of the 19th Seabees were white, we had much more to fear from the black Seabees than the Japanese military.
I was assigned with a team of five others to a tent that was located on the beach. Our entire responsibility was unloading trucks from the docks. This consisted mostly of barrels of fuel oil that we stacked right on the beach. I became a crane operator and enjoyed it very much. Perhaps I should have made that a career. The problem was that there was little demand for crane operators in Danville, Virginia.
A former state trooper must have run the entire base since they were so strict on ‘speeders’. Not only were they strict, the punishment was severe. I received a citation for exceeding the speed limit by 10 MPH and received three days hard labor. The hard labor consisted of digging a well where the earth was solid coral and as hard as steel. I was ordered to climb down in this well that, at the time, was about 10 feet deep, was perfectly round and measured about 10 feet across. There were two of us digging at a time, and we would alternate digging and shoveling each thirty minutes. The hard part was the digging since the coral was so hard you could, by using a pick axe only loosen a piece of coral the size of ones thumb nail with each swing of the pick axe. Consequently it was rare to complete one shovel full in your thirty minutes of digging. This at least gave the one shoveling thirty minutes of rest time.
This was severe punishment in my opinion for such a minor offense; however, it really helped lighten your foot on the accelerator in the future.
It was extremely hot in this environment and cold water was necessary to keep going. The only access we had to ice water come from and was dispensed through the reefers, which were huge refrigerators used to protect our food supply. We would usually take turns going to the reefers for water and would bring back two one-gallon jugs. One night it was my turn and when I returned with the water, I made the comment that I believed I could drink an entire gallon of that water. That led to some offers that if I could do it in three minutes, the group would give me $50.00. I jumped at the offer, handed them my canteen and told them to start pouring. I immediately started guzzling and after I was down to less than one canteen of water left, I paused and asked how much time I had left? The response was that I still had 50 plus seconds remaining so I decided to rest a moment before continuing. I sat down and the water gushed from my mouth as if it were a fire hydrant. Of course, this meant that I did not get the $50.00. I did not realize what a foolish mistake I had made until I told my family doctor after I returned to Danville. He said I could have very easily have drowned myself. I trust that anyone reading this will refrain from stupid mistakes such as this.
Each holiday, it seemed the black personnel would attempt to create havoc among the whites. I suppose it was because they felt discriminated against, although I didn’t feel that they were. In one instance, around eight of them showed up at our camp one evening armed with 45 automatics. One of them poked a 45 into my ribs with a cigarette in his mouth and said, “Light me, mother f----r.” Of course, I was frightened to death so I lit his cigarette. While they continued to hold us at bay with the drawn guns, several of them searched our belongings taking anything they chose to take. At an opportune time while my guard was being distracted, I ducked down behind a bulldozer and crept off into the night headed for the Shore Patrol Office. When I arrived there, I found two Shore Patrolmen that had just come on base and had no idea what to do. One asked me if I knew how to handle a Thompson machine gun and, although I had never seen one, I replied, “Yes.” They thrust one in my hands and we jumped on a Jeep and headed for our camp. When we arrived, I discovered the original perpetrators had left but several others had arrived. We lined them up and while I held them at bay with a machine gun I couldn’t shoot, the Shore Patrolmen searched them.
During the search, one of the blacks ducked down behind the others and took off running. I stepped through the line up and ordered him to halt or I would shoot. He froze and returned to the line-up where it was discovered that he was armed with a 45 automatic.
Suddenly, the base Commander arrived on the scene. His name was Commander Parker. He was from Mississippi and had a reputation for having a preference for blacks. It is said that he felt he could get more work out of them. He reviewed the situation and immediately asked what I was doing with that machine gun. I tried to explain that we were in jeopardy down there on the beach and we were continuously harassed by the blacks and that we should have some armament for protection. His reply was that I wanted someone to get shot. The problem was never resolved and we were lucky that none of us got shot.
During this encounter, I met a Danvillian, Clarence Lewis, who currently lives ½ mile from me. I told him I was glad to find him there since without a witness, no one would ever believe me about that situation. Clarence was with the 5th Seabees that was located nearby. Also in his outfit was another Danvillian named Curtis Bishop. His father was president of Averett College and was Mayor of Danville at the time. In addition, there was another Danvillian there named Jimmy Peary.
I did not recall that Clarence had taken a great many pictures of all of us. Some involved some girls in San Francisco that I recalled nothing about until he showed them to me in the year, 2003. I must admit, I felt they were quite flattering since we all looked so young and skinny and the girls were real lookers, especially the ones in San Francisco. The Filipino girls did not look that sharp. They were good to us, however, since they washed our clothes and folded them for the price of a cake of soap or a box of washing powder. I recall one, named Jeannie that I called a “gold digger” since she wanted some extra soap and powder for her chores. She wrote me a letter, which I still have that said she cried all night since I gave her the name, “gold digger.”
After a few months on Samar, the Seabees were ordered to build a causeway over to another island called Calicoan. Those Seabees were great; they built a super highway for about a mile right through the ocean and once they reached Calicoan, they built the Calicoan Highway for the entire length of the island, which was about 20 miles. They blasted it right out of the hardest coral you could ever find and it was as smooth as any paved highway I have ever seen. It was simply amazing!
Calicoan was designed to provide General McArthur with the supplies he needed to complete re-taking of the Philippines and was supposed to be a “secret supply base.” Not long after we located there, we were listening to Tokyo Rose, the propagandist for the Japanese military. She said that the U. S. Navy had set up a supply base for General McArthur on Calicoan and the Japanese Air Force would bomb it that night. Around 9:00 p.m., the air raid sirens went off and the planes were heard overhead. I jumped out of my bunk and ran outside to seek shelter under a bulldozer, as did most of my companions. We kept waiting for the bombs, but were happy when they did not come down on us. The planes flew right over us and went on to the island of Leyte, which was 50 miles across the Leyte Gulf.
That was as close as I came to being in real danger, although it was all around. One situation developed and was caused by straggling Japanese troops that had not surrendered and were hiding out in the surrounding mountains. One, in particular, became so hungry that he came down from the mountains and got in the Filipino chow line. They looked so much alike that it was difficult for Americans to tell them apart. However, the Filipinos could tell them apart with no problem. Once, I heard this Filipino shout to the Shore Patrolman on duty, “That is no Filipino! ” Him Japanese!” The Japanese soldier took off running and was immediately shot to death by the Shore Patrol. How things have changed. If that happened today in Iraq, the Shore Patrolman would have to stand trial.
After being on Calicoan for about six months, I received a letter from my brother, Robert, stating that he felt he was not far from me and would meet me at the LST landing on a date and time I do not recall. We could not identify in the mail to anyone our location or give a hint of where we might be located. In any event, I went to the LST dock on that day and there he was. What a feeling to see your brother when you are 12,000 miles from home. He spent about three days with me and said he was stationed on Leyte. He then made me aware that he was in Hawaii when I was sitting in Pearl Harbor
A short while after Robert’s visit, I noticed a rash developing on my fingers. I visited sickbay where they applied some type of ointment. After a couple of days, it worsened, so I returned to sickbay and they tried something else. It continued to worsen to the point that no one knew what to do. It kept spreading and got so bad that the corpsman (male nurse) would pick up a medication to show me and ask had they tried that particular medication. It eventually covered my entire body and became one large sore. This was the most devastating thing that had ever happened to me at the time. I eventually was hospitalized and they called a skin specialist over from another island to evaluate my condition and diagnose it. He diagnosed it as impetigo, and I overheard him tell the corpsman to give me 25,000 ccs. of penicillin and if it did not clear up, to send me back to the States. I suspected that once I was back on American soil, it would clear up since most people called it jungle rot, so it seemed natural that once I got out of that environment, things should improve. Due to this feeling, I prayed that the penicillin would not clear it up; however, it did, so and I was stuck over there for the rest of my tour.
On August 6, 1945, a large group of us were enjoying an outdoor movie when it was suddenly interrupted with the announcement that the United States had just dropped a secret bomb on the city of Hiroshima in Japan and the war would be over in a few days. [This turned out to be the ‘Atom Bomb’.] Talk about a happy group of people! There was shouting and drinking all night with everyone anxious to get home. It was not that simple, however, since there were certain rules and regulations to go by prior to any stateside departure. The make up of these regulations put me on the list to be near the very last to leave. This was because they used the point system, which meant that if married, you had 2 points, if you had children, you had 2 points for each. Other dependents added more points. As I recall, I had one point and that was for simply being there and being a person. The exodus started and I kept gaining responsibility and even got promoted to Motor Machinist Mate 3rd class. They even promised me a promotion to 2nd class if I would sign up for another tour of duty. I refused since I had such a desire to get home. I was really enjoying it at the time since I even had my own private Jeep with really nothing to do except keep an eye on things. I still longed for home and could not wait to get there.
After a year on Calicoan I had the opportunity of going to a rest camp facility in the mountains on Luzon. This, to me was the equivalent of an annual week’s vacation. The war had just been declared over and the armistice signing was being arranged in Tokyo Bay.
About six of us were fortunate enough to get this opportunity. We boarded a PB4Y2 Catalina bomber for the flight to Manila. This was the Navy version of the Army B-24. The only difference was the tail section. The B-24 had twin tails and the PB4Y2 had a single tail that was very tall. In any event, we took off from Guiuan Airfield and flew to Manila, which was about 300 miles. While in flight, we had great fun by getting in the gun turrets and pretending we were shooting at enemy planes. The guns had no ammunition so it was perfectly safe. The way you could push those buttons and twirl rapidly in any direction was again, as my grandson, Seth would say was really ‘cool’.
Figure 21 - First class accommodations to Manila
After a three-hour flight, we landed in Manila and boarded a truck designed to transport troops for the 150-mile ride to Baguio. It was like riding through the
North Carolina Mountains. I never saw so many pine trees, even in North Carolina. Baguio is a resort city that is almost identical to Danville, Virginia, in the way it is laid out. The main street was structured just like Danville and even had similar buildings. For example, there was a building the same size and shape of the Hotel Danville and was located at the top of the street just like Danville. The curve at the lower end of each main street was also identical. It was really strange.
Baguio was the home of the oldest U. S. Army camp in the world, Camp John Hay. This was where we were housed during our time there. One could wake up in the early morning and walk out into a huge cloud. The entire place was simply amazing and was enjoyed by all. We were able to once again have the pleasure of eating fresh eggs and drinking fresh milk, which we did a lot of. After a week of what we considered at the time to be as close to Heaven as one could get, we returned to Calicoan.
In the summer of 1946, I finally received orders to ship out for the States; what a great day that was! As luck would have it, I received a speeding citation that same day, the second since I had been here and was told that it might delay my departure for as much as 10 days. I was extremely irate and appealed to the chief Shore Patrol officer. He finally intervened and proceeded to tear up all citations that day that might interfere with anyone’s departure for home. I felt that was a great gesture on his part that was certainly appreciated by several sailors.
I recall one man named Elrod that simply would not bathe, even in fresh water. We had observed his hands actually turning to a rusted looking state. After warning him several times about how dirty he was, a group of us got together and gave him a G. I. bath. That consisted of a hard scrubbing with a stiff brush in salt water. He never showed up in an unclean manner again.
After a week at sea we arrived at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. It was sad to see the hulls of all those ships that were destroyed by the Japanese sneak attack on December 7, 1941. We sat there in the harbor for six days and were not granted liberty (being allowed to go ashore). Unknown to me at the time was that my brother, Robert, was there. Had I known that, I could possibly have gotten special permission to go ashore to visit him.
After setting sail again, our next stop was the Marshall Islands where we sat for several more days without being allowed off the ship. We then proceeded on to the Caroline Islands for a repeat of sitting for several days without leaving the ship. It was really getting monotonous, staying on that ship all those weeks. Everyone was wondering what our destination was and when we would get there. The scuttlebutt was rampant throughout the ship that we would go here or we would go there, with no one knowing for sure except the top brass.
Our final destination was Samar in the Philippine Islands. Most of the troops, including me, would become attached to Seabee battalions. My assignment was with the 19th Seabees which was 90 % black. Segregation was still legal and in effect throughout the United States although the military was attempting to integrate the armed forces. Since only 10% of the 19th Seabees were white, we had much more to fear from the black Seabees than the Japanese military.
I was assigned with a team of five others to a tent that was located on the beach. Our entire responsibility was unloading trucks from the docks. This consisted mostly of barrels of fuel oil that we stacked right on the beach. I became a crane operator and enjoyed it very much. Perhaps I should have made that a career. The problem was that there was little demand for crane operators in Danville, Virginia.
A former state trooper must have run the entire base since they were so strict on ‘speeders’. Not only were they strict, the punishment was severe. I received a citation for exceeding the speed limit by 10 MPH and received three days hard labor. The hard labor consisted of digging a well where the earth was solid coral and as hard as steel. I was ordered to climb down in this well that, at the time, was about 10 feet deep, was perfectly round and measured about 10 feet across. There were two of us digging at a time, and we would alternate digging and shoveling each thirty minutes. The hard part was the digging since the coral was so hard you could, by using a pick axe only loosen a piece of coral the size of ones thumb nail with each swing of the pick axe. Consequently it was rare to complete one shovel full in your thirty minutes of digging. This at least gave the one shoveling thirty minutes of rest time.
 |
| Pictured left to right: Curtis Bishop Jr., Jimmy Perry, Clarence Lewis and Henry Dillard |
It was extremely hot in this environment and cold water was necessary to keep going. The only access we had to ice water come from and was dispensed through the reefers, which were huge refrigerators used to protect our food supply. We would usually take turns going to the reefers for water and would bring back two one-gallon jugs. One night it was my turn and when I returned with the water, I made the comment that I believed I could drink an entire gallon of that water. That led to some offers that if I could do it in three minutes, the group would give me $50.00. I jumped at the offer, handed them my canteen and told them to start pouring. I immediately started guzzling and after I was down to less than one canteen of water left, I paused and asked how much time I had left? The response was that I still had 50 plus seconds remaining so I decided to rest a moment before continuing. I sat down and the water gushed from my mouth as if it were a fire hydrant. Of course, this meant that I did not get the $50.00. I did not realize what a foolish mistake I had made until I told my family doctor after I returned to Danville. He said I could have very easily have drowned myself. I trust that anyone reading this will refrain from stupid mistakes such as this.
Each holiday, it seemed the black personnel would attempt to create havoc among the whites. I suppose it was because they felt discriminated against, although I didn’t feel that they were. In one instance, around eight of them showed up at our camp one evening armed with 45 automatics. One of them poked a 45 into my ribs with a cigarette in his mouth and said, “Light me, mother f----r.” Of course, I was frightened to death so I lit his cigarette. While they continued to hold us at bay with the drawn guns, several of them searched our belongings taking anything they chose to take. At an opportune time while my guard was being distracted, I ducked down behind a bulldozer and crept off into the night headed for the Shore Patrol Office. When I arrived there, I found two Shore Patrolmen that had just come on base and had no idea what to do. One asked me if I knew how to handle a Thompson machine gun and, although I had never seen one, I replied, “Yes.” They thrust one in my hands and we jumped on a Jeep and headed for our camp. When we arrived, I discovered the original perpetrators had left but several others had arrived. We lined them up and while I held them at bay with a machine gun I couldn’t shoot, the Shore Patrolmen searched them.
During the search, one of the blacks ducked down behind the others and took off running. I stepped through the line up and ordered him to halt or I would shoot. He froze and returned to the line-up where it was discovered that he was armed with a 45 automatic.
Suddenly, the base Commander arrived on the scene. His name was Commander Parker. He was from Mississippi and had a reputation for having a preference for blacks. It is said that he felt he could get more work out of them. He reviewed the situation and immediately asked what I was doing with that machine gun. I tried to explain that we were in jeopardy down there on the beach and we were continuously harassed by the blacks and that we should have some armament for protection. His reply was that I wanted someone to get shot. The problem was never resolved and we were lucky that none of us got shot.
 |
| Filipino Girls Jeanie and Renee and Henry. |
I did not recall that Clarence had taken a great many pictures of all of us. Some involved some girls in San Francisco that I recalled nothing about until he showed them to me in the year, 2003. I must admit, I felt they were quite flattering since we all looked so young and skinny and the girls were real lookers, especially the ones in San Francisco. The Filipino girls did not look that sharp. They were good to us, however, since they washed our clothes and folded them for the price of a cake of soap or a box of washing powder. I recall one, named Jeannie that I called a “gold digger” since she wanted some extra soap and powder for her chores. She wrote me a letter, which I still have that said she cried all night since I gave her the name, “gold digger.”
After a few months on Samar, the Seabees were ordered to build a causeway over to another island called Calicoan. Those Seabees were great; they built a super highway for about a mile right through the ocean and once they reached Calicoan, they built the Calicoan Highway for the entire length of the island, which was about 20 miles. They blasted it right out of the hardest coral you could ever find and it was as smooth as any paved highway I have ever seen. It was simply amazing!
Calicoan was designed to provide General McArthur with the supplies he needed to complete re-taking of the Philippines and was supposed to be a “secret supply base.” Not long after we located there, we were listening to Tokyo Rose, the propagandist for the Japanese military. She said that the U. S. Navy had set up a supply base for General McArthur on Calicoan and the Japanese Air Force would bomb it that night. Around 9:00 p.m., the air raid sirens went off and the planes were heard overhead. I jumped out of my bunk and ran outside to seek shelter under a bulldozer, as did most of my companions. We kept waiting for the bombs, but were happy when they did not come down on us. The planes flew right over us and went on to the island of Leyte, which was 50 miles across the Leyte Gulf.
That was as close as I came to being in real danger, although it was all around. One situation developed and was caused by straggling Japanese troops that had not surrendered and were hiding out in the surrounding mountains. One, in particular, became so hungry that he came down from the mountains and got in the Filipino chow line. They looked so much alike that it was difficult for Americans to tell them apart. However, the Filipinos could tell them apart with no problem. Once, I heard this Filipino shout to the Shore Patrolman on duty, “That is no Filipino! ” Him Japanese!” The Japanese soldier took off running and was immediately shot to death by the Shore Patrol. How things have changed. If that happened today in Iraq, the Shore Patrolman would have to stand trial.
After being on Calicoan for about six months, I received a letter from my brother, Robert, stating that he felt he was not far from me and would meet me at the LST landing on a date and time I do not recall. We could not identify in the mail to anyone our location or give a hint of where we might be located. In any event, I went to the LST dock on that day and there he was. What a feeling to see your brother when you are 12,000 miles from home. He spent about three days with me and said he was stationed on Leyte. He then made me aware that he was in Hawaii when I was sitting in Pearl Harbor
A short while after Robert’s visit, I noticed a rash developing on my fingers. I visited sickbay where they applied some type of ointment. After a couple of days, it worsened, so I returned to sickbay and they tried something else. It continued to worsen to the point that no one knew what to do. It kept spreading and got so bad that the corpsman (male nurse) would pick up a medication to show me and ask had they tried that particular medication. It eventually covered my entire body and became one large sore. This was the most devastating thing that had ever happened to me at the time. I eventually was hospitalized and they called a skin specialist over from another island to evaluate my condition and diagnose it. He diagnosed it as impetigo, and I overheard him tell the corpsman to give me 25,000 ccs. of penicillin and if it did not clear up, to send me back to the States. I suspected that once I was back on American soil, it would clear up since most people called it jungle rot, so it seemed natural that once I got out of that environment, things should improve. Due to this feeling, I prayed that the penicillin would not clear it up; however, it did, so and I was stuck over there for the rest of my tour.
On August 6, 1945, a large group of us were enjoying an outdoor movie when it was suddenly interrupted with the announcement that the United States had just dropped a secret bomb on the city of Hiroshima in Japan and the war would be over in a few days. [This turned out to be the ‘Atom Bomb’.] Talk about a happy group of people! There was shouting and drinking all night with everyone anxious to get home. It was not that simple, however, since there were certain rules and regulations to go by prior to any stateside departure. The make up of these regulations put me on the list to be near the very last to leave. This was because they used the point system, which meant that if married, you had 2 points, if you had children, you had 2 points for each. Other dependents added more points. As I recall, I had one point and that was for simply being there and being a person. The exodus started and I kept gaining responsibility and even got promoted to Motor Machinist Mate 3rd class. They even promised me a promotion to 2nd class if I would sign up for another tour of duty. I refused since I had such a desire to get home. I was really enjoying it at the time since I even had my own private Jeep with really nothing to do except keep an eye on things. I still longed for home and could not wait to get there.
After a year on Calicoan I had the opportunity of going to a rest camp facility in the mountains on Luzon. This, to me was the equivalent of an annual week’s vacation. The war had just been declared over and the armistice signing was being arranged in Tokyo Bay.
About six of us were fortunate enough to get this opportunity. We boarded a PB4Y2 Catalina bomber for the flight to Manila. This was the Navy version of the Army B-24. The only difference was the tail section. The B-24 had twin tails and the PB4Y2 had a single tail that was very tall. In any event, we took off from Guiuan Airfield and flew to Manila, which was about 300 miles. While in flight, we had great fun by getting in the gun turrets and pretending we were shooting at enemy planes. The guns had no ammunition so it was perfectly safe. The way you could push those buttons and twirl rapidly in any direction was again, as my grandson, Seth would say was really ‘cool’.
Figure 21 - First class accommodations to Manila
After a three-hour flight, we landed in Manila and boarded a truck designed to transport troops for the 150-mile ride to Baguio. It was like riding through the
North Carolina Mountains. I never saw so many pine trees, even in North Carolina. Baguio is a resort city that is almost identical to Danville, Virginia, in the way it is laid out. The main street was structured just like Danville and even had similar buildings. For example, there was a building the same size and shape of the Hotel Danville and was located at the top of the street just like Danville. The curve at the lower end of each main street was also identical. It was really strange.
Baguio was the home of the oldest U. S. Army camp in the world, Camp John Hay. This was where we were housed during our time there. One could wake up in the early morning and walk out into a huge cloud. The entire place was simply amazing and was enjoyed by all. We were able to once again have the pleasure of eating fresh eggs and drinking fresh milk, which we did a lot of. After a week of what we considered at the time to be as close to Heaven as one could get, we returned to Calicoan.
In the summer of 1946, I finally received orders to ship out for the States; what a great day that was! As luck would have it, I received a speeding citation that same day, the second since I had been here and was told that it might delay my departure for as much as 10 days. I was extremely irate and appealed to the chief Shore Patrol officer. He finally intervened and proceeded to tear up all citations that day that might interfere with anyone’s departure for home. I felt that was a great gesture on his part that was certainly appreciated by several sailors.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
12. WHAT TO DO NOW THAT I’M HOME
After lounging around for a week or two, I had to decide what I was to do with my life. My old girl friend, Barbara Dellinger, had married before I got home, so I was shopping for a girlfriend. I dated several, but found no one I felt comfortable with for a long relationship. I went to the Coca-Cola Company and was advised they would not rehire me because of the manner in which I left (giving such short notice). I was unhappy about that since I really loved the soft drink business or at least thought I could have a good future there. After this turn down, I went to the Nehi Bottling Company, which was located just down the street from Coca-Cola. I was interviewed by Bob Pettit, the sales manager, and was hired as a route man. This turned out to be a great job, although it was much harder than Coca-Cola since the drinks were twice as heavy. The pay was great by comparison; they had a bonus plan that was dependant on the number of cases of beverages you sold. They paid the bonus at the end of the year. My first bonus was $1,750.00, which was more than my total pay would have been at Coca-Cola. Another advantage was Hosea Wilson, the owner. He was also Mayor of Danville at the time. He had a cabin at a place called Wildwood and every six months or so would take all the route men down there for steaks, booze, and poker. The up-side of this was you kept what you won from him, but he gave you back any amount you lost. Now that’s the kind of poker one should play if one should play at all!
Although it was enjoyable working at Nehi, I still felt my future should be with Coca-Cola. To make this happen, I contacted Randy Boswell who was a supervisor at the time and asked if he would help me get back with them. He agreed and several weeks later, I had an interview with Mr. Whitehurst who proceeded to tell me that he wanted me back although Mr. Ray, the owner, was dead set against it. It took several more weeks, but I finally was rehired and gave Nehi my one-week notice.
I was put back on route number one in downtown Danville. This route was still the hardest, but had the luxury of a paid helper. On some days we would distribute five full truckloads for a total of 720 cases. These were all 6 ½ ounce bottles since Coca-Cola only had that size and did not distribute larger sizes until the early 1950s. All these were loaded and the empty bottles unloaded by hand, we did not have the luxury of forklifts.
In early 1948, I was promoted to route supervisor and Randy Boswell was promoted to sales manager. At this time, Mr. Whitehurst was named vice- president, and I felt well on the way to establishing my future.
Part of our duties included working the Danville Fair each year. This was hard work and long hours. We would usually have a team on hand when the fair closed to assure we would collect all the money owed for Coca-Colas.
During this time period, I developed sincere friendships with many at Coca- Cola. Most of these friendships lasted for years and include Dorothy Collie (formerly Dorothy Pryor), who married a friend and fellow employee, David Collie. They live in the Ringgold area and have two children, Diane and Lisa. Dot and I still occasionally talk on the phone to recall old times. It is most unfortunate that David now has Alzheimer’s disease, is hospitalized, and not in good condition at all. It has been very hard on Dorothy as it would be with anyone partnered with an Alzheimer patient.
Figure 23 - We did enjoy some of the events such as the one pictured here portraying us as being in jail. Pictured left to right: C. D. Ragsdale, Henry Dillard, Calvin Neal and Red Shelton.
They also include Agnes Ragland who was the receptionist for many years. She was a special friend that passed away in the late 1970s. It was regrettable, but Agnes never married and she would have made someone a wonderful wife.
Also included would be Russell Neely. Russell served as treasurer of Danville Coca-Cola and was a true friend. He retired in Lynchburg and Barbara and I visited him and his wife, Grace on a regular basis prior to his passing that occurred in the mid-1990s. Russell was an outstanding citizen and words expressed here cannot begin to give him enough credit for all he, as well as Grace, did for so many people.
There were so many special friendships developed at Coca-Cola that makes it impossible to write a detailed description of them all. However, I will name a few more of them here without the details.
Jack Setliff was a co-supervisor, is now retired from the Commissioner of Revenue’s office and remains a close friend and golf partner.
Pat Wilson worked in the office and is still living in Danville.
Roger Richardson worked as checker and passed away recently.
Red Shelton worked as trailer driver and lives in the Danville area.
Lester Richmond worked as trailer driver and passed away in the early 1990s.
Jimmy Ray, Jr. was one of the heirs to Coca-Cola passed away in the late 1960s.
Newton Ray was one of the heirs and is living in Danville in his parent’s former home.
James Patterson was plant superintendent and passed away in the late 1950s.
Garland Hall, plant manager, Eden, N. C. passed away in the 1960s.
Louie Seabolt, plant manager, South Boston, Va. Passed away in the 1960s.
Roy Walker, plant manager, Chase City, Va. Passed away in the 1960s.
Randy Boswell, sales manager, Danville, Va. Passed away in the 1960s.
J. T. Whitehurst, president, Danville Coca-Cola and Southeast Vendors, passed away in the late 1990s. I was fortunate in the fact that he left me a small inheritance that I used to purchase a new computer.
Of course there are many more too numerous to list here, but they were all very special to me and I will never forget the special relationships I had with all of them.
Although it was enjoyable working at Nehi, I still felt my future should be with Coca-Cola. To make this happen, I contacted Randy Boswell who was a supervisor at the time and asked if he would help me get back with them. He agreed and several weeks later, I had an interview with Mr. Whitehurst who proceeded to tell me that he wanted me back although Mr. Ray, the owner, was dead set against it. It took several more weeks, but I finally was rehired and gave Nehi my one-week notice.
I was put back on route number one in downtown Danville. This route was still the hardest, but had the luxury of a paid helper. On some days we would distribute five full truckloads for a total of 720 cases. These were all 6 ½ ounce bottles since Coca-Cola only had that size and did not distribute larger sizes until the early 1950s. All these were loaded and the empty bottles unloaded by hand, we did not have the luxury of forklifts.
In early 1948, I was promoted to route supervisor and Randy Boswell was promoted to sales manager. At this time, Mr. Whitehurst was named vice- president, and I felt well on the way to establishing my future.
Part of our duties included working the Danville Fair each year. This was hard work and long hours. We would usually have a team on hand when the fair closed to assure we would collect all the money owed for Coca-Colas.
During this time period, I developed sincere friendships with many at Coca- Cola. Most of these friendships lasted for years and include Dorothy Collie (formerly Dorothy Pryor), who married a friend and fellow employee, David Collie. They live in the Ringgold area and have two children, Diane and Lisa. Dot and I still occasionally talk on the phone to recall old times. It is most unfortunate that David now has Alzheimer’s disease, is hospitalized, and not in good condition at all. It has been very hard on Dorothy as it would be with anyone partnered with an Alzheimer patient.
Figure 23 - We did enjoy some of the events such as the one pictured here portraying us as being in jail. Pictured left to right: C. D. Ragsdale, Henry Dillard, Calvin Neal and Red Shelton.
They also include Agnes Ragland who was the receptionist for many years. She was a special friend that passed away in the late 1970s. It was regrettable, but Agnes never married and she would have made someone a wonderful wife.
Also included would be Russell Neely. Russell served as treasurer of Danville Coca-Cola and was a true friend. He retired in Lynchburg and Barbara and I visited him and his wife, Grace on a regular basis prior to his passing that occurred in the mid-1990s. Russell was an outstanding citizen and words expressed here cannot begin to give him enough credit for all he, as well as Grace, did for so many people.
There were so many special friendships developed at Coca-Cola that makes it impossible to write a detailed description of them all. However, I will name a few more of them here without the details.
Jack Setliff was a co-supervisor, is now retired from the Commissioner of Revenue’s office and remains a close friend and golf partner.
Pat Wilson worked in the office and is still living in Danville.
Roger Richardson worked as checker and passed away recently.
Red Shelton worked as trailer driver and lives in the Danville area.
Lester Richmond worked as trailer driver and passed away in the early 1990s.
Jimmy Ray, Jr. was one of the heirs to Coca-Cola passed away in the late 1960s.
Newton Ray was one of the heirs and is living in Danville in his parent’s former home.
James Patterson was plant superintendent and passed away in the late 1950s.
Garland Hall, plant manager, Eden, N. C. passed away in the 1960s.
Louie Seabolt, plant manager, South Boston, Va. Passed away in the 1960s.
Roy Walker, plant manager, Chase City, Va. Passed away in the 1960s.
Randy Boswell, sales manager, Danville, Va. Passed away in the 1960s.
J. T. Whitehurst, president, Danville Coca-Cola and Southeast Vendors, passed away in the late 1990s. I was fortunate in the fact that he left me a small inheritance that I used to purchase a new computer.
Of course there are many more too numerous to list here, but they were all very special to me and I will never forget the special relationships I had with all of them.
11. HOMEWARD BOUND
Approximately six weeks after returning from our ‘Mountain Vacation’ we received orders to go home. After submitting the required paperwork and after a few more days of waiting, we finally got the okay to proceed.
The next morning we got aboard another troop transport and headed for home. Although we did not have the weekly layovers as we did coming over, the trip still took 25 days. Each night we would gather on deck and look for some signs of San Francisco. About three nights prior to actually arriving there, we could see the lights glowing over the horizon. What a beautiful sight that was! It was even more beautiful to see the city the morning we passed Alcatraz Prison and sailed under the golden gate bridge.
We spent about a week there and Clarence and I really toured San Francisco. It was and is a beautiful city and has some landmarks that have no equal. Included in these landmarks are the previously mentioned Golden Gate Bridge, and Alcatraz Prison. They further include the San Francisco/Oakland Bay Bridge, Knob Hill and Fishermen’s Wharf to name a few. If I had one complaint with San Francisco, it would be their ‘gay’ population. Where these people come from, I have no idea. I only know that they are seriously misguided and wrong.
I don’t recall how Clarence got back to Danville, nor does he. He just came to visit me and I asked him; he just could not recall other than we did not go on the same train. I was fortunate that my return was not on a troop train. There were no Pullman cars available, so I was destined to sit in a day coach for the entire trip of five days to Chicago. I got very little sleep on the trip, but was happy to just be on the way home. I was fortunate in meeting a very attractive young lady and her mother who were sitting adjacent to me. I don’t recall their names, but they were very interesting. After a couple of days, the mother said one evening that she was going to move to another car and get some sleep and that should give her daughter and me some quality time together. That seemed sort of strange to me, but being the type of person that I was, I sort of nestled in for a possible romantic relationship. The mother did not know her daughter turned out to be a perfect lady and helped me keep my reputation as a perfect gentleman. In other words, nothing happened. I had the feeling when I next saw the mother that she was disappointed that nothing happened between her daughter and me.
When we got to Chicago, I said farewell, changed trains and headed south for Lynchburg, Virginia. At that point, my ticket called for me to catch a Trailways bus for Danville, which was 65 miles away. Since there was a four-hour layover, I decided to hit the road and hitchhike home. After walking approximately five miles and not catching a ride, the bus approached and I flagged it down and got aboard. Two hours later I arrived in Danville, my home that I had not seen for two years. It looked as if everything had changed. Even the buildings looked larger. I really felt proud to show up at home wearing my uniform and service ribbons. Robert was there and we did some dating and partying together prior to my having to return to Little Creek Naval Base in Norfolk, Virginia, for discharge. I had 30 days leave before I was scheduled to return. Robert had to leave before me and was back home with his discharge while I was still at Little Creek. I was in Norfolk for three weeks before my actual discharge. It seemed as if they were holding the discharge in one hand and a reserve sign up paper in the other and saying, “Enlist in the reserves and we will give you this discharge.” I waited them out, however, and at the end of three weeks had the discharge in hand and headed for home.
The next morning we got aboard another troop transport and headed for home. Although we did not have the weekly layovers as we did coming over, the trip still took 25 days. Each night we would gather on deck and look for some signs of San Francisco. About three nights prior to actually arriving there, we could see the lights glowing over the horizon. What a beautiful sight that was! It was even more beautiful to see the city the morning we passed Alcatraz Prison and sailed under the golden gate bridge.
 |
| Clarence Lewis and Henry Dillard. [Name of girls unknown] |
I don’t recall how Clarence got back to Danville, nor does he. He just came to visit me and I asked him; he just could not recall other than we did not go on the same train. I was fortunate that my return was not on a troop train. There were no Pullman cars available, so I was destined to sit in a day coach for the entire trip of five days to Chicago. I got very little sleep on the trip, but was happy to just be on the way home. I was fortunate in meeting a very attractive young lady and her mother who were sitting adjacent to me. I don’t recall their names, but they were very interesting. After a couple of days, the mother said one evening that she was going to move to another car and get some sleep and that should give her daughter and me some quality time together. That seemed sort of strange to me, but being the type of person that I was, I sort of nestled in for a possible romantic relationship. The mother did not know her daughter turned out to be a perfect lady and helped me keep my reputation as a perfect gentleman. In other words, nothing happened. I had the feeling when I next saw the mother that she was disappointed that nothing happened between her daughter and me.
When we got to Chicago, I said farewell, changed trains and headed south for Lynchburg, Virginia. At that point, my ticket called for me to catch a Trailways bus for Danville, which was 65 miles away. Since there was a four-hour layover, I decided to hit the road and hitchhike home. After walking approximately five miles and not catching a ride, the bus approached and I flagged it down and got aboard. Two hours later I arrived in Danville, my home that I had not seen for two years. It looked as if everything had changed. Even the buildings looked larger. I really felt proud to show up at home wearing my uniform and service ribbons. Robert was there and we did some dating and partying together prior to my having to return to Little Creek Naval Base in Norfolk, Virginia, for discharge. I had 30 days leave before I was scheduled to return. Robert had to leave before me and was back home with his discharge while I was still at Little Creek. I was in Norfolk for three weeks before my actual discharge. It seemed as if they were holding the discharge in one hand and a reserve sign up paper in the other and saying, “Enlist in the reserves and we will give you this discharge.” I waited them out, however, and at the end of three weeks had the discharge in hand and headed for home.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
13. FINDING MY WONDERFUL WIFE
My first assignment as supervisor was to ride with and supervise the route of Turner Pickeral or as we called him, “Pick.” His route ran all the way from the outer limits of Danville through Chatham, Gretna, and Hurt, Virginia. It also included Callands to the west and Mt Airy to the south of Route 29. On this first Monday, however, it ran right through Chatham and Gretna. Pick was a great guy and became an especially close friend. The moment we got started, he started telling me about this beautiful girl that worked in the Gretna Dry Cleaning Plant named Doris Midkiff, and how he just knew she would be the girl for me to live out my life with as my wife. Since I was single and very interested, I couldn’t wait to get there to see what she really looked like. Prior to that we had to go through Chatham and while servicing Mitchell’s Five and Ten cents store, I met the love of my life, Barbara Wilkinson, and fell in love with her on sight. Unknown to me at the time was the fact that she was engaged to Charlie Farthing, a former Army paratrooper and an aspiring guitar player/song writer. Lucky for me, Barbara must have sensed the same thing I did, and that is that we were meant for each other. As I discovered later, she slipped her engagement ring off her finger and handed it to her co-worker, Stella Atkins. I did not know of this until much later.
I invited her to lunch at Giles restaurant, which was just up the street from her work. We met there and both laughed as some strange lady looked at us in the booth and said to Barbara, “I bet you have a hard time washing and ironing those white uniforms.” We had just met and already, there were people thinking we were married. This was the first of many lunches together in Chatham.
Figure 24 - Barbara around the time we met.
After several meetings in Chatham, I finally talked her into a real date. After convincing my Mom that I had met the most beautiful girl in the world and intended to marry her, Mom consented to letting me drive her brand new Chevrolet Fleetline on our first date.
Figure 25 - Mom and her New 1948 Fleetline Chevrolet
I had to promise her that I was sure Barbara lived on a hard surface road and I would, under no circumstances go on any muddy roads. Of course, I had no idea, but found out soon enough. It happened to be pouring rain when I got off the hard surface road and proceeded for approximately a mile in mud ruts towards the “Old Whitehead” farm house that Barbara and her family lived in as ‘share croppers’. Just prior to getting there, I spotted a young man coming down the road who was soaking wet from the falling rain. I stopped and asked if he knew where Barbara Wilkinson lived and he replied, “You are on the right road.” I thought that was a strange response until I later talked to Barbara. That was when she told me about the engagement and the fact that she had just given Charlie Farthing his ring back. I certainly understood his grief and better understood the terseness of his response to my question. I really felt sorry for him, but not sorry enough to give up Barbara and destroy my plans for marriage and the building of a family together.
When I arrived at the house, Jean, Barbara’s sister, greeted me. She too was very easy on the eyes and I remember remarking to some of my friends later that it was like recess in Heaven. I met her parents who incidentally didn’t appear they thought that much of me. I convinced myself that I could change their attitude towards me and set out to do just that. I finally succeeded although it was a long time coming. After that first date, I was even more inclined to do everything possible to marry that girl. She was and remains to this day a real beauty.
My first problem after our first date was to get the mud off Mom’s car. I took it to a service station at 11:00 p.m. and washed it until it looked brand new. Mom seemed quite happy about everything, especially my sincere desire to marry Barbara even though at that time she had not met her. Several days later, after meeting her, she seemed to think more of Barbara that she did me, her youngest child.
When I arrived at Barbara’s for my second date, her 6-year-old brother, Scotty, met me in the yard. He was barefoot and had on overalls. He said to me, “My sister Barbara said to tell you that she could not go with you tonight because she had to go with my sister Jean to Danville to sing.” I was very suspicious since he acted like he had been rehearsed in what he was to say. I said, “Is that what your sister Barbara told you to tell me?” He responded in the affirmative and after several other questions, I finally got him to admit that she was home but could not go with me, so I left heartbroken. When I saw her in Chatham the next week, she told me her Dad would not let her date me that night because he didn’t know me and had no idea the kind of person I might be. It took some doing but I finally got his approval to date his wonderful daughter.
On one occasion, while visiting Barbara, I was wearing a beige suit and was dressed up to impress the entire family when her nephew, Billy sat in my lap and proceeded to wet all over my new suit. It was terribly embarrassing and something I would never forget. Ralph (Barbara’s brother) was Billy’s father; he was my age and we became great friends over the coming years.
Figure 26 - Henry & Barbara dating, pictured with Mr. Wilkinson's '38 Packard.
Barbara was working at Mitchell’s Five and Dime store and attending Hargrave Military Academy during most of our ‘courting’ days. This came about because of an appendectomy operation that held her back a year in school, but she was happy because this gave her the opportunity of graduating with Jean. When she re-entered Spring Garden High School in the fall of 1948, I would often chase down her school bus with the Coca-Cola truck, get her off the bus and take her to school myself. Those were some wonderful days that I would never forget.
Prior to my coming home from the Navy, Edith had married Randy Yarbrough. Randy won out over Junior Clifton who was really devoted to Edith. It turned out quite well for Edith since she and Randy seemed to have a very happy life, winding up with two lovely girls, Janet and Rhonda.
Figure 27 - Pictured is Edith and the house she shared with Randy for most of their married life. Edith still lives there as of this writing, and is quite happy and is blessed with having caring neighbors.
Janet is married to Rocky Lumpkin and they have no children; Rhonda is married to John Covington and they have a son, Zack, who is a student at James Madison University. He is a brilliant young man, loves baseball and is getting excellent grades as of this writing. Randy passed away a few years ago and Edith has lived alone ever since. She really misses Randy and was very devoted to him, as he was to her.
My half-brother, Robert, married Maisie Ayers during this time and was married to her for approximately 10 years before their divorce. He later married Rachel Kidd and they built a home on North Main Street where they lived until he passed away of a heart attack in the mid-eighties. Rachel later married C. B. Buckner, but he, too, passed away after a few short years of marriage. I feel she will never get over Robert since to this day, her telephone is still in his name and she still lives at their home place on North Main Street. Robert truly loved that house and, as a matter of fact, was working in the yard when he passed away. He was well thought of in the community as well as throughout Danville and the entire area.
I invited her to lunch at Giles restaurant, which was just up the street from her work. We met there and both laughed as some strange lady looked at us in the booth and said to Barbara, “I bet you have a hard time washing and ironing those white uniforms.” We had just met and already, there were people thinking we were married. This was the first of many lunches together in Chatham.
Figure 24 - Barbara around the time we met.
After several meetings in Chatham, I finally talked her into a real date. After convincing my Mom that I had met the most beautiful girl in the world and intended to marry her, Mom consented to letting me drive her brand new Chevrolet Fleetline on our first date.
Figure 25 - Mom and her New 1948 Fleetline Chevrolet
I had to promise her that I was sure Barbara lived on a hard surface road and I would, under no circumstances go on any muddy roads. Of course, I had no idea, but found out soon enough. It happened to be pouring rain when I got off the hard surface road and proceeded for approximately a mile in mud ruts towards the “Old Whitehead” farm house that Barbara and her family lived in as ‘share croppers’. Just prior to getting there, I spotted a young man coming down the road who was soaking wet from the falling rain. I stopped and asked if he knew where Barbara Wilkinson lived and he replied, “You are on the right road.” I thought that was a strange response until I later talked to Barbara. That was when she told me about the engagement and the fact that she had just given Charlie Farthing his ring back. I certainly understood his grief and better understood the terseness of his response to my question. I really felt sorry for him, but not sorry enough to give up Barbara and destroy my plans for marriage and the building of a family together.
When I arrived at the house, Jean, Barbara’s sister, greeted me. She too was very easy on the eyes and I remember remarking to some of my friends later that it was like recess in Heaven. I met her parents who incidentally didn’t appear they thought that much of me. I convinced myself that I could change their attitude towards me and set out to do just that. I finally succeeded although it was a long time coming. After that first date, I was even more inclined to do everything possible to marry that girl. She was and remains to this day a real beauty.
My first problem after our first date was to get the mud off Mom’s car. I took it to a service station at 11:00 p.m. and washed it until it looked brand new. Mom seemed quite happy about everything, especially my sincere desire to marry Barbara even though at that time she had not met her. Several days later, after meeting her, she seemed to think more of Barbara that she did me, her youngest child.
When I arrived at Barbara’s for my second date, her 6-year-old brother, Scotty, met me in the yard. He was barefoot and had on overalls. He said to me, “My sister Barbara said to tell you that she could not go with you tonight because she had to go with my sister Jean to Danville to sing.” I was very suspicious since he acted like he had been rehearsed in what he was to say. I said, “Is that what your sister Barbara told you to tell me?” He responded in the affirmative and after several other questions, I finally got him to admit that she was home but could not go with me, so I left heartbroken. When I saw her in Chatham the next week, she told me her Dad would not let her date me that night because he didn’t know me and had no idea the kind of person I might be. It took some doing but I finally got his approval to date his wonderful daughter.
On one occasion, while visiting Barbara, I was wearing a beige suit and was dressed up to impress the entire family when her nephew, Billy sat in my lap and proceeded to wet all over my new suit. It was terribly embarrassing and something I would never forget. Ralph (Barbara’s brother) was Billy’s father; he was my age and we became great friends over the coming years.
Figure 26 - Henry & Barbara dating, pictured with Mr. Wilkinson's '38 Packard.
Barbara was working at Mitchell’s Five and Dime store and attending Hargrave Military Academy during most of our ‘courting’ days. This came about because of an appendectomy operation that held her back a year in school, but she was happy because this gave her the opportunity of graduating with Jean. When she re-entered Spring Garden High School in the fall of 1948, I would often chase down her school bus with the Coca-Cola truck, get her off the bus and take her to school myself. Those were some wonderful days that I would never forget.
Prior to my coming home from the Navy, Edith had married Randy Yarbrough. Randy won out over Junior Clifton who was really devoted to Edith. It turned out quite well for Edith since she and Randy seemed to have a very happy life, winding up with two lovely girls, Janet and Rhonda.
Figure 27 - Pictured is Edith and the house she shared with Randy for most of their married life. Edith still lives there as of this writing, and is quite happy and is blessed with having caring neighbors.
Janet is married to Rocky Lumpkin and they have no children; Rhonda is married to John Covington and they have a son, Zack, who is a student at James Madison University. He is a brilliant young man, loves baseball and is getting excellent grades as of this writing. Randy passed away a few years ago and Edith has lived alone ever since. She really misses Randy and was very devoted to him, as he was to her.
My half-brother, Robert, married Maisie Ayers during this time and was married to her for approximately 10 years before their divorce. He later married Rachel Kidd and they built a home on North Main Street where they lived until he passed away of a heart attack in the mid-eighties. Rachel later married C. B. Buckner, but he, too, passed away after a few short years of marriage. I feel she will never get over Robert since to this day, her telephone is still in his name and she still lives at their home place on North Main Street. Robert truly loved that house and, as a matter of fact, was working in the yard when he passed away. He was well thought of in the community as well as throughout Danville and the entire area.
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