Arrive at Camp Shelby

By Sunday morning we were getting close to our destination, which by that time we knew it was going to be our home CAMP SHELBY, MISS., supposed to be one of the worst camps in the states, boy it was too. Our morale dropped to a new low. After we got it all cleaned up it wasn’t too bad a place, but there are a lot better ones. But still a hot hole as far as weather was concerned. We arrived at noon, got off the train at camp, we had to carry our bags about a ½ a mile, then we were loaded on trucks and taken up to the area where we were going to stay, in some of the damndest tents that could be set up for people to try and stay dry in and also keep clean, what a mess that turned out to be. Calling our names off we split into six men groups, and these were the guys you were going to live with for the period of your basic training, which was going to be twelve weeks. In this God forsaken hole they call MISSISSIPPI. We had really been taken for a ride south and it wasn’t any more. When we arrived at our company area, the first thing we had something to eat, which wasn’t very darn much, in fact all we had was a half cup of black coffee, one piece of dry bread, and one soft boiled egg, about the same menu you'd find at Alcatraz, because we were now already fenced in. Orders were being handed out right and left, scrub the tents, get your beds set up, grab yourself a mattress, go to the dayroom the supply SGT was handing out your G.I. blankets, mattress covers, along that time the whistles were blowing like mad, here it was already late Sunday afternoon and they were now starting to organize the company. Weren’t we busy people, you aren’t just a bird tirdin any. The six of us moved into that tent that day got everything in line, were we ever tired bunch of guys. Cpl. Lee Andrews was in charge of our shack, along with him were PVT. GARMOE, PVT. JOHN CURRIE, PVT. LESTER HILL, PVT. ALBERT DUHN, PVT. POP ROGERS, and yours truly PVT. JOHN SCHAEFER, I nearly forgot PVT. ZEEK RHOLF or POP as we called him. Later, after getting all settled in our living quarters that afternoon we sat there trying to figure each other out looking at one another. Along came Texan named HOPPY. He informed us that if we liked beer we could bring it in the tent and drink it, providing of course that we would police the bottles up and take ‘them and pile ‘them in back of the latrine, also bust then up and we did. So the next morning. It was to somebody’s disliking that this was no place to throw broken beer bottles. We policed then dam bottles up slick and clean. An order came through, no beer in the tents anymore. That fixed things for a while, until we were more acquainted with the First SARGENT. We got acquainted with him in a hurry, he was a big guy and could lick any one two times his big.

Drafted

It was the 19th day of May 1942 I made my appearance at Cedar Falls, Iowa, so to be able to proceed under my own power, if I had any by that time, to Des Moines, Iowa, where we were going to be officially sworn into the conflict and also where we were going to meet some pretty tough gentlemen, we thought and weren't too far from being wrong, those corporals and privates first class. We had breakfast at the Black Hawk coffee shop. Who in the hell cared for coffee then, could be to sober us up on. Prior to this we had to march from the armory to the above mentioned JAVA joint down the middle of the street, what were we then, just a gang of civilians who didn't know shit from shinola, trying to walk behind one another, not even trying to keep in step with a band that was doing it's dam best to make noise, what was noise? Well we were also going to find that out too. Weak and staggering we arrived at our tables to sip a few licks of java, eat a couple rolls then to be merrily on our way, it was merrily for some of the boys too, as they were beastly ill from an overdose of inebriation. But we weren't in the army yet; yet we didn't know how damn close it was for most of us including myself. As the bus plunged on in the early morning hours, it came to a halt in front of a building called a barracks, that’s where we got our first glimpse of FT. DES MOINES, IA.

At Fort Des Moines we naturally got off the bus, us civilians who were going to learn things in a hurry, no fooling. Just then a certain corporal and sergeant took us over; they were men in our estimation, men of authority on affairs of this nature, the job making a dog-face out of a civilian. I must say they started to do a good job of it right there, the 4 days we spent there.

We were called into a room, where first they asked if we were Catholics or Protestants, we told them, a guy then put that on a piece of paper, our records began to take shape right there, we thinking perhaps and wondering if there were any Christians in the gang. All these things were a fore runner of events to come and they did......

Prior to approaching this building, a non-com came out and asked us if we smoked, or if we didn't, I might just as well confess that right there, and then we had our first policing up to do, we weren't going to get any free cigarettes at all, just helping to keep the side walk spick and span. Our barracks assignment came next and we were shown our bunks, the diligence of a corporal, he showed us how to make those beds up then tore them up again, now you fellows go ahead and make them we did, what a job we thought it was, but we were to make many, many more like it. I mustn’t forget the physical examination we had, that was also an experience none of us will forget either. We were told to strip and it wasn't going to be any tease about it, tossing our civvies in our suit cases, which we brought along for the occasion.

To see such a gang of guys in the nude, you'd thought we were all going (NATIVE). Our Medical examination didn't take very long, they looked at this and they looked at that, we jumped 15 times on one leg and the 15 times on the other, until we almost had a Charlie horse, bending this way and that way, hope they got a good look,(AT OUR CHEEKS). And they're not on your face. Hearing was tested, eye sight was checked, but I say again, all a good soldier has to be is able to crawl, if he can do that he's a damn good physical specimen, and he's all set.

Now came the juggling act of these notorious medics, who wielded that needle in the most reckless fashion, we stripped again, can't see why we had to yank our pants off just to take a couple shots in the arm, but it's the army. Fellow it's the army; we were slowly beginning to find that out. It was a double needle jamming affair, one guy grabbed one of your arms the other guy grabbed your other arm, (WOW). No it didn't hurt. You couldn't even get away or even fall down. BUT WHO WANTED TO FALL DOWN.