prayer prior to the meal. In our conversations that evening, Margaret informed us that H.D. was a member of the consistory of their church and was active in church affairs. This was very gratifying. We spent some time at their home and left that evening. Some years later we were very disappointed when we stopped in Little Rock once again and called Margaret to find out if it was convenient for us to stop in to see them. She apologized and said that H.D. had died. We were very much disappointed especially not having been notified of his death. We did stop to see her and spent some time with her. Following that visit, nothing more has been heard from her. We felt that we had lost a very close friend and the feeling of not having been notified stayed with us for some time.

The nine month training period finally came to a close. Again rumors spread like wild fire. We heard reports of going to the European theater, to the Eastern theater of operations, and all kinds of reports. The day finally came when we were scheduled to leave. Sadie was still there and well remembered are the last few hours that we could spend together. They were very difficult. We were parting, not knowing if and when we would ever meet again. I remember walking back to the barracks and glancing back a number of times to give one final wave. Finally the buildings obliterated my view. The separation became very real. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Sadie left the Army base for our apartment in Gainesville, and the following day took a taxi to the train depot and left for home. Prior to this time we remarked that we couldnÕt go home on another furlough, because our savings had all been used up. 

We were transferred to the New York Port of Debarkation. It was here that Jay and I were able to meet one day. Jay was in naval training. It was wonderful being together, but the memory of what our activities amounted to are faint. Just seeing him once again was enough in itself.

We were loaded aboard ship and stayed in dock for some time. Prior to even leaving the dock, some of the men were already becoming seasick from the slight movement and roll of the ship. One of those who was sick was H.D.. In fact, I donÕt think he ever got out of his bunk all the way to France. The journey across the waters was very rough. We encountered a storm and the going was very difficult. Not once on the entire trip was I sick. Although, sometimes I came close to losing my appetite entirely as we had to move from one deck to another following stairways which showed evidences of other men who had problems with holding their food down. This of course was not very appetizing. As we approached the coast of France, and in particularly the Port of Marseille, there were evidences everywhere that the war had been very real in this area. There were ships everywhere, some on their sides, some tipped over entirely, some with one end pointing out of the water and debris floating everywhere. We landed in Marseille on a rainy day, in fact it was a steady downpour. We were not issued umbrellas, and transportation was not provided, so we had to walk in the rain to our bivouac area. As soon as we were permitted to, we pitched our two man pup tents on the wet and muddy soil. It was night, so as soon as we had everything settled, we crawled in and went to sleep, only to find that in the morning, the water from the hillside had run through our tents and had pretty well soaked everything that we had on the ground. After spending a few days here out in the open, we were loaded on trucks and went to our first stop, which was the city of Bruyers, France. Almost all traveling was done at night, so the enemy could not spot our convoys. This trip was also made at night with blackout lights used only. The headlights of trucks were not used. The blackout lights were hardly sufficient to light the road, but were mostly intended to show where the next vehicle was. Traveling was very slow. It was during this trip that we got our first sight and sound of battle. We could hear and see flashes in the distance. We thought they were incoming artillery pieces, but we were soon assured that these were our own artillery firing at the enemy. Upon arrival we stayed in a former school building. It was nice and dry, but there was no heat. It was at this time that I experienced frost bite on my feet. They have been tender ever since.

Our division was assigned to the Seventh Army which proceeded across France, across Germany, and into Austria until, when the war ended, we were located in Innsbruck, Austria. We were part of division headquarters which meant that our unit was a considerable distance behind the lines, generally. Sometimes our long range artillery pieces were behind us, but generally they were ahead of us. One job that I was chosen to perform for the headquarters unit was to go ahead into the next town to clear buildings so that our Division Headquarters could move ahead and occupy those buildings. The reason I was chosen was that on my records there was an indication that I had taken courses in German. Now the courses that I took in German in no way qualified me to go to German speaking people and converse with them in their language, but this is what I was expected to do. We would go at night, select the area in the city and the type of building that we wished to occupy. We would pound on the doors, and whoever came, informed them that they would have to move out immediately so that our unit could move in. Wherever we went, we heard a storm of protest. I couldnÕt understand half of what they were saying, but at least they understood the little bit of German that I knew which meant Òget out.Ó In a short time, people were trudging along the streets, packs on their backs, carts loaded with as many of their possessions that they could carry with them and headed for I donÕt know where. Looking back upon the experience, it was a heartless way of handling a bad situation, but at the time we had very little sympathy for the people. However, many times I could not help but feel that here were some people who really had nothing to do with the conduct of the war and the cause of the war, and they really were the ones that were suffering. Those feelings could not dominate, and we proceeded to clear out entire sections. Then as the sections were cleared out, the Division Headquarters moved up and unloaded their trucks of supplies and equipment into whatever buildings were available. Then as the front of the battle line moved forward, another city would have to be visited and the same procedure followed. Sometimes we came close to the front lines where the noise of battle was very audible.

After arriving in Innsbruck, Austria, we were able to set up our location, and soon after that, news came that the war had ended. It was a beautiful city to be located in when the fighting stopped. However, for a period of time precautions still had to be taken, because with the announcement of the end of the war, not everyone was aware of that fact, and not everyone was willing to lay down his arms. So there was on occasion firing and sniper activity in the area. It was during this stay in Innsbruck that we were able to appreciate the snow covered mountains. There was a resort located on the side of the Alps which was formerly an officerÕs club. A chain driven car from the base of the mountain took us up to that location of the officersÕ club. This was converted to an enlisted menÕs club, so we were privileged to visit that place. From that location a cable car took us up to one of the peaks. I never skied down any of those long peaks on the mountain, but in the area of the enlisted menÕs club, there was more or less a level area where we did do quite a bit of skiing. This was quite a change from the regular army life. Here again I was assigned a job that I did not particularly appreciate, and that was having had some German, I was expected to make contact with women in the area who were willing to do our laundry. This I did, and was successful in getting the services of a number of women who did the laundry for whoever was interested. Shortly after the end of the war, the 103rd division was deactivated. Our division headquarters was also split up. It was at this point where H.D. and I parted company. Another friend of mine, George Keller, and I were assigned to 3rd Army headquarters of which General Patton was in command. The headquarters was located in a former academy and covered quite an area of property. Well remembered are the parades that used to be held in the center of the academy grounds. General Patton would come out to review them and we stood in awe of the man as he approached the field and strutted past the troops. I remember the location of his office which was near the entrance to the academy grounds on the first floor. The building had two levels and if it became necessary for us to move from one position to another which required going past his office, we often went to the second level and walked the second level until we had passed his office space and then descended to the level that we were originally on. We didnÕt wish to have an encounter with him.

It was during our assignment to 3rd Army headquarters that troops were given the opportunity to select some area of interest for further education. George Keller and I decided on an education course in Glasgow, Scotland. We were accepted and went to London, where we were placed in a housing unit for a couple of days. It was during this stay in London that my barracks bag, which I had attached to the post of my bed with a lock on it, was ripped from top to bottom and all the pictures that I had taken all during the time across France, Germany, and Austria, all the pictures that were developed and all the pictures that were still to be developed, as well as my camera were stolen. This was very disappointing. George and I enlisted the help of policemen, but they halfheartedly indicated there wasnÕt much that could be done. We did a little private detective work on our own, going to different pawn shops and making inquiry there, but we never came across the camera or the pictures. More than likely the pictures were destroyed and the camera sold. We traveled on to Glasgow, attending the University of Glasgow, taking an education course there and visiting several of the Scottish schools in Glasgow as well as in Edenburg. We spent a few days in the beautiful city of Edenburg visiting many of the historical spots, and then returned to our headquarters location. 

Marv had written to me sometime during my course of stay in Europe that he was interested in a certain Leica camera. I was successful in locating such a camera and purchased it for him. Making use of it myself for the remainder of the time spent in Germany. Finally the day arrived for us to return to the States, taking pictures as we went. We boarded a much larger ship this time, and on our way home ran into an even worse storm than we had experienced on the way up. I had never experienced anything like it before, and hope to never see it again. Such masses of boiling, rolling water. Sometimes lifting our ship almost out of the water, and sometimes plunging it below the level of the waves. Sometimes the ship would seem to rest on the crest of one of these bodies of water and teeter at that point, and we could hear the ship creak and crack as finally it moved off the crest.

After arriving in New York, we were sent to Camp Atterbury, Indiana for our discharge. Here I had another experience with pictures. Those that I had accumulated from the time of the loss of the other camera until arriving at Camp Atterbury were in a pouch in a shoulder bag that we carried over our shoulder. We were being discharged. We were instructed to pile different items in different piles. Our duffel bags we could keep for ourselves in which our few possessions could be carried home. The shoulder bag was left behind, and it was tossed on a huge pile that others had discarded. Returning to the barracks that day, I suddenly realized that all the pictures that I had, all the films that were exposed were still in that shoulder bag. We went back to the building where the materials were stored, and in a frantic effort to locate my bag, we searched a huge pile, but never came across it. So there went another collection of pictures that could never be replaced.

After almost three and a half years of service, in January of 1946, we were finally on our way home. Well remembered is the final trip, the train ride from Chicago to Holland. Sadie was at the depot along with members of the family, and we went to the Vollink home where everyone assembled. It was a great time. True feelings of gratitude for being home once again can never be expressed nor can the excitement of seeing everyone be put into words. Sometime during my course of service, dad had moved from the Bloemers farm to what was known as the Moeke farm on 96th Street, two miles north of Borculo. This is the farm which presently has a number of turkey buildings on it, and which Bill and Marv De Witt presently own. This was where we stayed following our return home. It wasnÕt long, however, before dad began thinking of selling the farm. One night Mr. Schmidt came over and discussed the possibility of purchasing the place. Naturally we were disappointed over the idea of having the farm sold, and of losing our place to stay. As it turned out, he bought the farm and was interested in moving in a relatively short period of time. We of course had to find something else which was not an easy matter in those days. At this point, my memory of details becomes a bit hazy once again. IÕm not too sure what really happened. I know Sadie and myself ended up in a real small trailer that Gerrit and Mae had parked behind their house, and dad and Bill moved to the upstairs of Gerrit and MaeÕs store. It is possible that Jay joined them there, or that he lived in the trailer with us. We are not sure. If he lived with us in that trailer, there sure wasnÕt much room to turn around.

As mentioned before, my intention was to go into teaching, but being discharged in January of 1946, particularly at that time of the year, it was difficult to obtain a teaching position. At that time, Dad used to visit at the home of the Kapengas, and their daughter, who worked at the bank, reported that there was a job opening at the bank. I went there, made application, and was hired. Starting wages were very minimal at that time, and chances of advancement were quite remote. It was not until a number of years later, when management changed and bank services were broadened, that I received the status of Officer and wages, promotions, and salary increases became more realistic.

How long we stayed in that trailer is not known, but sometime or other we were successful in renting a home on the Pete Ver Plank farm which was a little south and east of Borculo. This was a second home on the property. We are sure that if not before, but certainly at this location Jay came to live with us. Experiences on this property are many and memorable. The first is that we became associated with a man by the name of Peter Ver Plank. He was the owner of the Royal Casket Company and had an inflated ego and expected everyone to honor him. The easiest way to raise his ire was to call him Pete. He demanded that everyone call him Mr. Ver Plank. If anyone made the mistake of calling him Pete, he was certainly corrected in a hurry. IÕm no longer sure of the amount of rent that we paid for this house. It was high, and considering the wages that I was making at the bank at the time, it seems to me the rent represented two weeks pay. We didnÕt especially appreciate that, but at least we had a place to live. Then one day while eating my lunch at BoschÕs Restaurant, Pete walked into the restaurant, stopped at my booth, and in a loud voice immediately began to call me everything in the book for having reported him to the OPA, which was the Office of Price Administration, an agency which governed rental properties and the amount of rent that could be charged. I denied the charge, but no amount of arguing could convince him that I had not done so. One day he came to the house and acknowledged the fact that the OPA had contacted him and the rent would no longer be the amount originally stated, but the revised amount as we were notified by letter. He did not appreciate it, and he was very belligerent, informing us that we should move out. Shortly afterwards I was contacted by a representative of the OPA who inquired whether the rent had been reduced. When assured that it was, he asked if we had any complaints. I informed him that we were told by Pete Ver Plank that we should get out and look for another place. He said, ÒDonÕt move. You donÕt have to move. IÕll take care of the matter.Ó He immediately contacted Pete and told him to lay off. He should no longer contact us with any more threats.

Shortly after this, we found that he was taking action in retaliation. The rental property was located a short distance from the main house, which was located along the driveway. We were told that we could turn off on a gravel path just behind a row of trees, and that path would take us directly to the house. This we did, and continued to do. However, one day his men came by and put steel stakes in the ground in the path which we normally took to get to the house. When we noticed this, we simply turned off a little sooner between a couple trees cutting across the lawn to the house. The ground was soft, and that big old Olds left some rather deep tracks across the yard. As soon as he noticed this, he had his men back again to drive stakes in between the trees. This didnÕt stop us either. We went beyond the placement of the first stakes, and