Kenneth Barnes War Letters

What did you do in the war, Dad?



      This question was commonly asked by Baby Boomer kids of their fathers who had served during World War II.  We Barnes kids were no different. We asked dad that question many times especially perhaps after watching an episode of “Combat” or “Victory at Sea”. Dad was not especially forthcoming on the subject, at least with us. He gave us a very condensed version of his war years that described his going to North Africa, then on to Italy where he worked as a plane mechanic. No details…just the dry facts. Even that little bit was in sharp contrast to the man we knew as our father. Dad never displayed a particular mechanical bent. I never saw him work on his cars or lawn mowers…never tried to fix a toaster or hi-fi. To imagine him working on war plane engines was a little difficult to grasp.

     Dad’s mother, our grandmother, Margaret Mather Barnes left us an enduring gift. She meticulously had saved the approximately 150 letters that Dad wrote home over the close to 4 years of his war time service. Though not exactly a diary, reading these letters fills in the details we longed to hear and describes a young man that was so different than the one we knew as our dad. I will try to transcribe the essence of the contents of those letters in this essay. I hope also to be able to give a glimpse of a man we never knew. These letters talk of dreams that never materialized and roads not taken; of a moment in time when fate could have changed events that eventually led to all of our very existence… or not. I hope to do justice to these letters and the memories they contain. I don’t pretend to think of myself as a writer and I apologize in advance for the inadequacy of this attempt. I just hate to think that these letters will one day become dust and we lose the valuable insight into Ken Barnes that they contain. I hope you find this as interesting and enlightening as I have found in reading them.

     Kenneth Mather Barnes was born June 11th, 1921, to a previous boomer generation following the First World War before anyone had ever thought to give a name to them. This generation would provide the manpower and cannon fodder for the coming global catastrophe 20 years hence. Before too long Benito Mussolini would be organizing his fascist black shirts, Adolf Hitler would be jailed for his attempted putsch and begin writing his “Mein Kampf” manifesto and in the Far East a coup would put a militaristic Japanese regime in power which would soon afterward invade Manchuria. These distant events, discrete and unconnected would eventually coalesce into the Axis powers and turn much of the world into ruin and involve tens of millions of soldiers and sailors on both sides of the conflict, one of whom was Ken Barnes. Before all of that however was the relative calm of normal peacetime life in an America confident after helping Europe defeat the Kaiser and making the world “Safe for Democracy”…before Black Tuesday on Wall Street signaled an end to the roaring twenties and plunged the world into a global depression…before the “Day that will live in infamy”, Dec. 7th, 1941 pushed America into a war that had been raging for 2 1/2 years and ultimately changed our way of life forever.

     Kenneth was born in Boise Idaho to Margaret Mather Barnes and Raymond Leigh Barnes, who himself was a WW I veteran with the American Expeditionary Force in France. Kenneth turned out to be an only child, a “golden boy” in his parent’s eyes. Margaret and Ken had an especially strong maternal bond. The family was constantly moving from town to town following the needs of the Idaho highway department that employed Raymond as an engineer as it built the state’s early highway system. This proved to be hard on Ken as he was uprooted from schools and newly made friends. He showed early athletic skills however, especially in baseball and was quick to make new friends wherever they happened to be and was surely popular with the sand lot baseball teams that would form. This gypsy life took the Barnes’ to various towns in Oregon and Washington as well as Idaho. Eventually Ken would settle in at Spokane and attend Lewis and Clark high School. He played varsity sports there with some distinction in both football and baseball. Ken and his clique of friends would socialize beyond his own high school and eventually met some students from Spokane’s North Central high school. Ken dated a girl named June but enjoyed the company of Beverly Berg as well who he found attractive and amusing. They would all meet up at the area’s various lakefront parks for socializing. Life was simple and satisfying for Ken Barnes and his friends and classmates.   At last June, 1939 and high school graduation day arrived followed by an 18th birthday. September offered a new challenge with an athletic scholarship to Washington State College in Pullman again playing both football and baseball. But all that could wait for one last lazy summer of being just a kid, dating and hanging with friends. The newspapers ran stories of European saber rattling, Nazi-Soviet pacts and other ominous events thousands of miles away. America felt secure by our two ocean buffer and refused to get involved in yet another European war. For recent graduates the future looked bright as the depression of the 1930’s was fading to the background.  The warmth of that last peaceful summer ended September 1st, not by the traditional labor day holiday but rather by Panzer tanks rolling across the Polish border officially commencing the bloodiest human conflict in history.  Ken went on to attend W.S.C., play varsity football and baseball while reading the evermore frightening headlines coming from Europe and the rest of the world.

     Sunday, December 7th 1941 dawned clear and cold in the Palouse. The radio crackled the terrible news of the surprise attack by the Japanese Imperial Navy on the US Naval base at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. President Roosevelt addressed the joint houses of Congress and declared war on Japan. A call to arms rang out across the nation that young men everywhere were eager to answer. Ken and a couple of his closest friends agreed that they too would enlist and try to go in as a unit. Hopefully they could at least train together if not able to serve together. College was not going as well as Ken had hoped. Grades were suffering and jeopardizing his scholarship. Perhaps it was just as well to take a break from studies, enter the Army, get some training, avoid anything rash like getting killed and return to school with a fresh attitude and renewed vigor. How long could it take… a year? Not much longer than that…two at the most. The question was which service and when to do it. Enlistment rather than the draft had the advantage of being able to make some of these choices instead of having them made for you. Earlier in Feb. 1941, Ken and his friends had become student pilots and earned their flight training certificates. It made sense then to choose the Army Air Corps instead of the regular Army. His friends were anxious to enter officer training in hopes of becoming pilots. Ken saw that as severely increasing ones odds of not returning from the war. There was also the matter of timing since the holidays were just around the corner…might as well delay until the New Year came. Perhaps he could even find himself in a warm clime for basic training and avoid the bitterly cold winter. His very best friend, Don Kjosness wanted to enter flight school as well as Rich Chiles, another close friend. Ken knew that at some point they would have to part and go in different directions but for now at least it was a tight group of buddies who would go in and share the struggle of basic training together. To those close to Ken the news of his looming enlistment, while not surprising was still frightening and promised many anxious, sleepless nights until his safe return. Two years of college was a challenge to maintain a relationship with Beverly who was still living in Spokane and working in a bank following her graduation. They had grown closer but the separation kept the couple from taking their relationship much beyond some vague promises. Beverly continued to date a couple of guys just as Ken dated while away in college but their relationship continued to grow. By December, 1941 Ken and Beverly were definitely fond of each other and agreed to write. Now another separation presented itself, full of questions and anxiety. For Ken’s mother and father, it was especially hard to accept Ken’s decision since his being in college offered him a deferment from the draft and possibly avoiding the war altogether depending on how long it lasted. They understood the passions of young men at the beginning of a war and the patriotic emotions which sometimes overwhelmed logic and the human instinct for survival. For Ken it was as much being part of a team, his group of friends and not seen to be “riding the bench” as anything else. Teamwork had been ingrained into Ken’s psyche and the Army “team” would be a fine fit for him and he looked forward to the challenge.

     The holidays were bittersweet and hectic. Preparing one’s life to be away for an unknown length of time was more complicated than Ken imagined…so many loose ends and people to say goodbye to and not enough time to do it all. Quickly D-Day, departure day, January 3rd 1942 arrived. Ken’s mother gave him a handwritten note that he carried in his wallet throughout the war…it said: “God bless you, my darling and keep you safe, strong and brave- and bring you home before too long to a Father and Mother who love you- Mother”. Following a flurry of hugs, tears and phone calls, he was off. First stop was the Spokane recruiting office where the boys and others had a formal swearing in…like the song goes: “You’re in the army now”. Next stop was the train station and a trip across the state to Camp Lewis, before it became Fort Lewis. It was here Ken received his physical, a series of shots and some indoctrination as to what he could be expecting from here on. A couple of days later it was up at 4:30 a.m. to catch another train. This one was headed to Wichita Falls, Texas. It was here, at a brand new camp, Sheppard Field he would go through what amounted to boot camp…several weeks of intensive military and physical training. Also, there would be many series of tests to determine his skills and aptitudes in order to place him in a specialty field. Of course there would be many more series of shots, Government Issued (G.I.) uniforms and equipment and a general transformation from civilian to soldier. Most of the time was spent drilling and more drilling, that is marching in formation in seemingly endless repetition. KP was a chore everyone had to share and Ken sure did his getting up at 4:30 to do his duty. The food was excellent and plenty of it. The camp was built for 30,000 and was holding closer to 60,000 at this early stage of the war. Waiting for orders and idle time seemed to take up a great part of the day. January weather was not so bad however, 60 degree days, cool nights but a ceaseless wind off the prairies to the west. All in all it could be worse…just give it time. The test results finally came back and Ken was very suited for mechanics school. Conveniently the school was newly built and located on another part of the camp he was at currently. It would mean a move into new, nicer barracks and completing the 19 week course, afterward he would be an A.M. or Air Mechanic rating earning $84 per month with increases due with advancement. There was more free time now with passes into town to see movies and have a beer or two. Also there were pickup games of baseball and football between the barracks. Ken asked his mother to send him his baseball glove, cleats, pants and shirts as the games became more competitive. Ken’s friend, Rich shared the next bunk in his new barracks while his other friend Don was in a different barracks a couple of doors away. The typical day began at 3:45 a.m. for showers and a shave, make beds, clean the spaces then on to morning chow at 4:30 a.m. Some personal time followed before school began at 6:00 a.m. Classes went through the morning until 2 p.m. followed by calisthenics until 3:00 p.m. Every evening required about 2 hours of study and then lights out at 8:00 p.m. and then all over again the next day. Sundays were off. As spring approached the temperatures rose but so did the winds which occasionally blew into full Dust Bowl sized dust storms leaving everything coated in up to ½ inch of fine grained dust. This wreaked havoc on Ken’s sensitive sinuses but not much could be done other than a handkerchief and nose drops. The dust issue would resolve itself as rains turned it all to mud, that is until it dried and the cycle started all over again. His friends Don and Rich were both accepted into what was called Air Cadet School and were transferred to another base for schooling. This was a parting of the gang that enlisted together in Spokane. They continued to write each other and rarely met up but their fates had diverged at this point. There was talk of future training for two months in the Mojave Desert in high summer. That would perhaps hint at their ultimate destination…North Africa, currently held tightly in the Nazi grip by General Erwin Rommel and his famed Afrika Corps. The city of Wichita Falls was itself invaded on Saturday nights by thousands of thirsty soldiers. Ken would join the throngs but was put off by the testosterone filled mania and ended up going to a movie rather than be surrounded by thousands of G.I.’s which was his daily condition anyway. It was good to get away and have some relative quiet time. The classes were broken down into 11 different phases of plane mechanics. Ken excelled with grades in the 90’s and at one point was considered to be an instructor for future classes. The entire program was 110 days in length followed by a graduation ceremony that had the great black opera star Marian Anderson sing the Star Spangled Banner. Eventually this base would graduate 900 new plane mechanics every 10 days.

     In mid April, 1942 Ken’s unit was awakened and told to pack their belongings and get on a train to an undisclosed destination. The train headed west, across the Rockies and deserts until it arrived in Los Angeles, California. They were going to attend a specialty school at Douglas Aircraft of specific warplanes and engines. Like a dream they were put up in a luxury hotel just off the beach in Santa Monica. The hotel was leased by the Army and filled with 1800 servicemen, 3 to a room. Meals were served in the dining room by waiters just like they were regular guests. The school was to last 28 days and after graduating would award them a Douglas specialist rating to go with their newly earned A.M. rating. This proved to be great duty. Weekends were off and everyone was free to do whatever they wanted. USO shows, ball games, nightclubs or just lazing on the beach was on everyone’s list. He and his friends saw Bob Hope’s show one evening and another took in the floor show at “Slapsie Maxie’s” a famous night club and then dropped into a place called the “Pirate’s Den”. He wrote: “A person doesn’t need so much money here, for instance they serve scotch and sodas to service men for 25 cents that ordinarily cost 65 cents and they give us loge seats in the best theatres for 25 cents that normally cost 85 cents”. Ken’s folks took the opportunity to drive down from Medford, Oregon and visit him while he was stationed in L.A. They weren’t sure there would be another chance to see their son again before shipping overseas. They had a great visit but too short. Douglas school and thus Los Angeles came to an abrupt ending when they were all quickly assembled and again put on a train to a secret destination. This large group of 1800 men were sent off to multiple destinations. For Ken and 300 others that meant Oklahoma City and Will Rogers Field. Ken thought it was ironic that he would find himself just 60 miles north of Wichita Falls once more. There they would form into actual crews and take care of individual planes. Ken was put in charge of his crew and would be called upon to take care of problems as they arose. It was here, in Oklahoma City that Ken “celebrated” his 21st birthday on June, 11th, 1942. He commented that he didn’t feel the great transition of becoming a man. I suppose he had a “legal” drink that evening but perhaps not being “dry” Oklahoma. It was here too that Ken got close and personal with a killer tornado. Oklahoma is smack in the middle of “Tornado Alley” and Ken wrote that the sky grew blacker and with more lightning than he could ever imagine and with those scary switching winds when all of a sudden the funnel cloud dropped out of the sky and headed for their air base. Men were running for cover, some even dug holes in the ground and dove in. Luckily it vanished as fast as it appeared. It came within ¾ mile of the camp. Tragically however it went through a part of town destroying it and killing 10 people.

     Ken and his Spokane friends, Don and Rich went into town for the 4th of July rented a hotel room and had some drinks, played cards and caught up on news. Don and Rich were deep into their pilot training at this point and would be soon transferring to Florida for advanced operations. When they parted they promised to get together again soon before anyone was shipped overseas. Ken was also struggling trying to get a long overdue furlough. He figured he was among those most deserving but there always seemed to be a last minute snag that held it up. Finally in late July it seemed like at last he would get two weeks to get home and back. He needed $50 for the round trip train fare but had only $45. He wrote home special delivery asking his folks to wire some money quickly. Unfortunately his plans again went awry as he was told that his entire unit was being transferred another 800 miles further away from Spokane…Meridian Mississippi. That would add another precious day of travel each way to boot. Thoughts of a furlough were put on the back burner as he tried to get used to the Deep South. He wrote: “it is about the same; the only difference I see is that about three fourths of the people are negroes”… a little different for a native Northwester. They were put into tents upon arriving at Key Field Air Base. It was here they were told they were forming into the 86th group and 309th bomber squadron. This would be his unit throughout the war. He wrote: “It’s awfully hot and even when it is cloudy, as it is today a person suffers because of the humidity. There are a lot of swamps nearby and also mosquitoes”.

     Monotony became the latest challenge during the dog days of August in Mississippi. The town of Meridian had few attractions, just a USO which as Ken put it, “is not fun”. They slept 4 to a tent with cots draped in mosquito netting with a discouraging rumor that they could be there up to 5 or 6 months. There were classes to attend, some marching, and sports made up most of the typical day. Basketball, volleyball and baseball kept the boys in shape. Ken made an inquiry of a family friend about writing a letter of recommendation for admission to Officer Candidate School. Unfortunately that never panned out for Ken. He was designated the assistant crew chief in charge of an A20C bomber which put him in position for advancement, in fact he was promoted to Private first class and got a bit of a raise as a result. The hoped for $84 per month turned out to be only $54 per month, less than $2 per day. They were also moved into regular barracks which Ken wasn’t so happy about since they were hotter and more crowded. The weather did finally cool off in October and Ken found himself in the Deep South: college football country. A group of friends got 24 hour passes and took a bus to Tuscaloosa, Alabama. They rented the last two hotel rooms in town and being servicemen, got good seats to see Alabama play Mississippi State.

     Another time he even went to watch a local high school football game that he said “wasn’t very good”. All the while he continued to work on their assigned planes which they referred to as “ships”. Each morning meant having their ship ready to go by 7:45 a.m. when they were taken out for pilot training. These ships were dive bombers and they would practice their dive right over the air base. To do this meant to ascend to 12,000 feet then head straight down at full speed, 400 mph and pull out at about 1500 feet. They would do this all day until 7:00 p.m. when the crew would go over the ship and prepare it to do it all over again the next day. Ken got more good news as he received yet another promotion this time to corporal which meant $66 per month but no more KP duty was the real prize.

     Ken’s crew won the award as Crew of the week which meant a 36 hour pass… perfect timing to attend another football game, this time Alabama vs. Tennessee in Birmingham. They encountered another packed town but somehow got a room and 35 yard line tickets to another great game. In addition Ken was following the season of Washington State who was having a great year and had hopes of a Rose Bowl appearance. Soon after returning from the ball game Ken was surprised to learn he had received a sudden furlough starting almost immediately. He had 13 days to get from Mississippi to Washington State and back by train. The other stickler was Beverly was in Spokane while his folks were in Southern Oregon, Medford. He decided to go first to Spokane then fly to Medford to save time and catch the train from there for the return. This furlough proved to be important for the relationship between him and Beverly as they began to think in terms of a future together for the first time with the small matter of surviving a world war left unspoken but looming large. The furlough was fast, furious and over too soon. He had been away 10 months…a pretty large percentage of his life so far. His friends Don and Rich continued their separate paths. Don was transferred into bombardier training while Rich continued his pilot work. Both would emerge in the end as commissioned officers, Second Lieutenants. Ken and Don hoped to make it to New Orleans for the Sugar Bowl if things worked out.

     Ken’s crew received new planes, the A-36, the dive-bomber variant of the acclaimed P-51 Mustang, the fastest propeller driven plane of the war and capable of speeds in excess of 525 mph. It had a water cooled engine which was new and meant more training, but was overall much easier to keep in shape than his previous ships. The weather had turned cold as well as Ken had his first Thanksgiving away from home. They were issued sheep skin lined jackets which really helped them to keep warm. Ken also got a chance to see another football game…this time Georgia vs. Georgia Tech in Athens Georgia about 300 miles away and 24 hours to do it. This was Number one vs. Number two in the country and worth the effort. It meant an all night bus ride leaving at 6:45 p.m. Friday night and arriving at noon Saturday for the 1 p.m. kick off. The game was great and they met some folks who invited them to the following homecoming dance where he was introduced to Georgia All-American halfback Frankie Sinkwich who went on to win the Heisman Trophy the next year. They caught the 5:45 a.m. bus Sunday morning and arrived back at the base at 9:00 p.m., 15+ hours later. Ken did love his football…in fact in addition his team won the base touch football championship!

     Early December brought a welcome surprise. Ken and a few others were told they were to return to California this time for training at the North American Aviation factory, makers of the P-51, for a class that could last 34 days, taking him through the holidays. It meant another cross country train trip however. The war had changed life in Los Angeles in the few months since leaving. Street lamps were painted black on top while a semi-blackout had been declared in the city. Neon signs must be off and clubs were to close at midnight. This time they were staying in barracks built right next to the plant along with a mess hall. Not a fancy beach front hotel but was fine all the same. Classes were 6 days a week 8-4 p.m., Sundays off. The schedule was so tight it cancelled his plans to meet his folks in San Francisco for Christmas. Despite that disappointment it all was so much better than spending the holidays in cold Meridian, Mississippi. Perhaps he could even take in the Rose Bowl if things broke just right. Ken managed still to get in some Christmas shopping and sent off a package to his folks, Beverly and Mabel his grandmother. The folks at the plant gave the boys a Christmas party and a nice gift box of shaving and personal supplies and of course a carton of cigarettes. The night before leaving they went out to the famous Hollywood Canteen where they heard the Mills Brothers sing “Tiger Rag” and “Moonlight Bay”. Afterward they went to the Palladium and saw Tommy Dorsey and his Orchestra then on to the Hollywood Casino where Jan Garber was playing. The next morning they were headed back to Mississippi in now late January, 1943. The train was late arriving in New Orleans with the connection not until the next morning so they got a bed at the USO and went out to explore the city. They spent most of their time in the French Quarter, “and it is something- old narrow streets, about four out of five places are bars or clubs. They all have negro bands that really play that old wicked stuff. It was a lot of fun, but I wish I could have spent about two weeks there.” They returned to their base and got back into the grind again right away.

     Ken had been in the Army 13 months by February 1943. Events in the war during this time had been dramatic. The U.S. Navy in the Battle of Midway had halted the Japanese advance across the Pacific, the Russians had stopped the Germans in Stalingrad and the British had turned back Rommel at El Alamein. Now Rommel was retreating across North Africa from East to West. The Americans were now finally preparing to enter the European war. Operation Torch was the name of the operation to land US forces at three different locations in Morocco and Algeria and to squeeze Rommel between themselves and the pursuing British. Ken Barnes was about to be a part of that effort.

     “Things are really buzzing around here- packing, getting everything taken care of- we’ve even taken our shots over again” he wrote in early February. The word was they were moving out but did not know exactly where. Rumors were they were headed to New York for embarkation overseas more than likely. The planes were flown out in advance to an unknown location. While waiting for orders and without planes Ken and the rest went out on maneuvers with a full pack in 85 degree heat and simulated strafing and gas attacks. The hike was about 11 miles over the roughest terrain around then over night it was so cold the water froze in their cups as they were eating breakfast. Ken received a letter from his friend now Lt. Don Kjosness. He had graduated from bombardier school and was an instructor in Childress Texas and thought perhaps that’s where he would be stationed for the war’s duration. Meanwhile Rich had decided to get married out of the blue to a local girl that he met while in flight school.

     Middle of March, ’43 arrives and the entire unit is underway to New York via rail once again…Birmingham, Knoxville, Chattanooga, through Virginia skirting D.C. and then on up the seaboard to N.Y. The boys were to be stationed at Camp Kilmer, New Jersey and of course everyone wanted to go into the New York City for all the excitement imagined just across the river. Eventually Ken and his friends got their turn. They saw a show at the Café Suite, went to see the New York Giants play and then had ringside seats at Madison Square Garden for a big fight between Henry Armstrong and Beau Jack. The next day was to be the Dodgers vs. the Red Sox at Ebbet’s Field. They had dinner at Jack Dempsey’s restaurant and then to the Copacabana where they saw Jimmy Durante and his show. The highlight was going to the Riobamba where Frank Sinatra was singing. The weather was bitterly cold most of the time and he found himself actually missing the warmer weather of the South. Then, suddenly, the 309th fighter/bomber group received orders to proceed overseas to a still undeclared location but most everyone was betting on North Africa. That bet proved correct.

     After approximately 18,200 miles of train travel, 3 different air bases and 2 specialty schools Ken was a Sgt., a trained mechanic in the U.S. Army Air Corps and ready to do his part in the war effort. On April 29th, 1943 Ken and the rest of his squadron boarded the S.S. John Ericcson docked at Staten Island, New York and sailed for 13 days across the Atlantic as part of a larger convoy, dodging German U-boats until docking at Oran, Algeria. He was quite proud of himself for being one of the few men to not get seasick. Their mission was to reinforce the Allied Center invasion force that had landed and captured Oran in November, 1942. By May, 1943, Rommel was virtually defeated with just a small salient in Tunisia left under Nazi control. The men of the 309th initially lived in pup tents on the sand, slept on the ground and cooked their own meals just as if they were camping. The people were very exotic wearing flowing, colorful robes and speaking mostly French. The young kids had already learned “geeve me a cigarette, Johnny!” since it seemed they picked up the habit at about age 6. They were soon put back to work on their planes for the first time in 4 months. They needed to relearn some of their training. Eventually Ken and some friends had an afternoon off and visited a neighboring town. He wrote: “It’s a combination of almost every kind of civilization and what a picture it makes-modern buildings, latest fashions, beautiful girls, dirt, horse carts with wine barrels, hay and junk, beggars, Muslims, soldiers and sailors of almost every country, little kids and all of them jabbering away so that you hardly understand English when you heard it”. He added, “The weather is living up to all we’ve ever imagined. The afternoons have been so hot it’s practically impossible to move let alone work…and every now and then the dust starts blowing-“shades of Sheppard Field”.” On June 25th, Ken wrote that a French soldier had given them a month old black and white spaniel that they were keeping in their tent. This was Taffy, named after Tafarouri, Algeria, the airbase they were stationed, who would accompany Ken throughout the rest of the war and finally home. He said “she was awfully cute and ate like a horse…she is sleeping next to me right now”. He said that they had also visited Tunis, Oran and the ruins of Carthage.

     Generals Patton and Montgomery were now in keen competition to be the first to conquer Sicily, the ancient island stronghold of both the Greek and Roman empires. This would be the first European soil to be retaken from Axis control. 2590 vessels of the invasion force, which constituted one of the largest operations of the war, crossed the 90 miles of sea from North Africa and stormed the Sicilian beaches. Right on their heels, Ken’s unit left North Africa on July 14 arriving in Scogletti, Sicily and then marched 20 miles to Comiso on July, 15th. This had been a German airbase just 2 days prior and was captured without too much damage. Fighting continued until August 17th when 200,000 Italian and German soldiers managed to escape across the 2 ½ mile strait to the Italian mainland. Despite the hardships Ken endured he wrote to inform everyone that he was fine but more importantly Taffy was getting cuter every day and showers and shaves were getting rare. The food was ok but they were enhancing it with fruit and vegetables from the locals. The Sicilian towns were off limits for visits so time dragged for the boys…work, rest and work again. He said his “world” was within a half mile radius of his tent. The squadron was in fact stationed at the Gela airfield on the southwest coast of the island. The Sicilian campaign was hard fought but over relatively swiftly as Patton’s American Seventh Army won the race to Messina over the British army. Now Allied eyes were cast upon the Italian boot itself. Ken’s air group had flown the A-36 “Invader” dive bomber with great success and was getting some national publicity with their achievements against the enemy. The real test lay in the months ahead however.

     Ken’s squadron again followed the troops that had landed at the Salerno beaches on September 3rd and provided close troop support as well as destruction of enemy facilities all through the region. Censorship of letters kept location details secret. Late September, ’43 it rained for the first time since leaving the boat 4 months before. Taffy heard the hard rain on the tent and ran out to see the commotion. She managed to get her paws so muddy that they were like little boots on her and she ran back inside and jumped back in bed with Ken. Yikes. He would take her for a swim every night and she loved it. He writes “It seems that everywhere we go there is some “creature” to help make life more miserable. If it’s not flies, it’s ants or sand fleas or lizards or mosquitoes. At present it happens to be mosquitoes and they are fierce. We often wonder if the anti-aircraft guns are firing at the Jerries or the mosquitoes.” Ken hadn’t heard from his friends Don and Rich now for a very long time. He hoped they were safe and well. He had heard second hand that Rich and his new wife were now parents of a baby boy. The weather was cooling off considerably now in mid October. The rains turned everything into a sea of mud. The food was getting a little worse now that the fresh seasonal fruits and vegetables were disappearing. Tin cans provided most of their meals with a piece of bread once a day. They were shown a movie or two once in awhile but all in all it was what war is supposed to be…rough. Taffy however enjoyed the good life. He wrote “Taffy is asleep on my lap-she was really wild tonight and completely shot out. Just put her on my bunk and she never even woke up-just sighed.” She also enjoyed candy treats and he said that she could hear the cellophane wrapper at a half mile and come running. On Oct. 28th ’43 he writes: “a lot has happened toward shortening this darned war since we’ve been here. Maybe in another six months we’ll all be back…including Taffy”. The war would last another 22 months.

     The Italian campaign proved to be a strategic disaster. Shortly after the fall of Sicily, King Emmanuel had Benito Mussolini arrested and formally surrendered Italy to the Allies. The Germans however continued to fight and ignored the distraction of the Italians perhaps even relieved to see them removed from the battlefield. The battle up the peninsula was hard fought and deadly. Seemingly the only purpose of the effort was to tie up German forces and keep them from joining the Russian front or the Atlantic defenses in France prior to D-Day. The Germans retreated behind prepared defensive lines which bogged the Allied advances down to a virtual stalemate. Ken’s squadrons flying the A-36 “Invaders”, had missions that included seeking targets of opportunity, rail yards, enemy supply installations and troop concentrations, etc. The squadron moved often as the front lines changed. Initially close to the Salerno landing area, they moved 7 times to be close to where the action was. The squadron earned a Distinguished Unit Citation (DCU) for the Italian campaign. The planes changed as well eventually flying the P-47 Thunderbolt, the heaviest, most expensive fighter of the war.

     Winter of 1943 came early as it always seems to do during wartime. Rain, cold and wind kept the planes grounded more often than not. Ken wrote: “The food varies- from bad to worse. We did have steak the other day but it is mostly canned- Vienna sausage, corned beef hash, stew, canned potatoes, canned carrots and peas, canned fruit, canned butter, hard tack, synthetic lemonade, etc.-nothing but the best for the boys overseas; if that’s the case, I pity you people at home”. It was about this time that Beverly sent Ken the devastating news that his friend Rich who had enlisted with him and became a pilot, newlywed and new father was shot down and killed over France while on a bomber escort mission. He struggled over what to write to Rich’s parents to try to ease their pain. Ken knew that Rich was tempting fate by flying but it was obviously his passion. Now it was just Don and he left of the Spokane trio.

     The war trudged onward and life with Taffy helped to ease the discomfort and boredom. He wrote: “Taffy is acting up again-I think she’s trying to scratch her back, as she’s rolling and twisting all over the room. She’s awfully cute, but I think the most independent animal I’ve ever seen. If there’s something she wants there’s nothing in this world that’s going to stop her- especially riding in jeeps. Her coat has filled out- for winter, I guess- and it’s wavy and quite pretty. She keeps very clean and her markings are quite distinct. I think she’s about through growing now- she’s not very big, fortunately- about a foot high, weighs around ten pounds, but that’s plenty of dog under these conditions”. Ken celebrated his second Thanksgiving while in the service on Nov. 25th. They were served turkey with all the trimmings and then went into town to the USO theatre. They saw a movie and a live show starring Ella Logan. Later at the theatre they would see Bing Crosby, Dinah Shore and Irving Berlin with the original cast of his Broadway Show “You’re in the army now”.

     In mid December there was a food poisoning epidemic throughout the squadron. Ken got it as well and became quite jaundiced. The unit was quarantined for a while and a special diet got them back on their feet a few days later. Taffy was entertaining herself by playing with a pet monkey that one of the other fellows purchased and brought to camp. He said “she can’t quite figure him out, but seems to like him, and plays with him all the time. You should see her steal peanuts from the baskets of the kids that sell them around here. Cracks the shell and eats the nut- the kids all know her name and like to play with her”. They were starting to worry about her since she was now being followed by a string of male dogs. He said she was faster than them but he kept her in the tent just to be sure.

     Ken used his days off to visit the liberated areas nearby including Naples and Pompeii. He wrote: “It’s interesting to read accounts of conditions over here in newspapers from the States. I read the other day how the Germans had killed thousands of civilians in Naples. It seems funny to me that we don’t hear any of these stories, especially from the locals themselves. Propaganda is a powerful weapon- more or less. Remember the tales about the Belgians getting their hands cut off in World War I?” Ken was one of the group’s crew chiefs and assistants in the squadron honored with a special dinner for being a leader in the number of missions. A delicious steak dinner was served with a few speeches, one by Ken himself. He said “it was the first time in almost 7 months that he had dressed up…that is as well as possible under the circumstances”.

     Christmas 1943 came and since this was war, the better half of the day was spent sending sorties against the enemy like any other day. A turkey dinner awaited the boys in the evening but business is business and business in Italy 1943 was war and killing Germans. The following day was a stand down day, as Ken put it “typical Army, a day late”. He didn’t mention if they were also a dollar short…probably were.

     Sad news came in early January that the owner of the monkey had sold it and Taffy lost her little monkey playmate. By now they were sweating out to see if she was going to have puppies or not. He wrote: “I hope not as it will be quite a problem taking care of them and getting rid of them, not counting the fact that she will probably have them in the middle of the night and in my bed! She’s still awfully cute and smart as a whip, but spoiled and bull headed. You should see her sit up. The other day I was on a second story balcony and she was below- I held up a piece of candy and told her to sit up and she did, so I tossed it to her and she caught it in her mouth and ate it-pretty smart-eh”?

     Ken and some friends got a three day pass and went to visit Sorrento, a beautiful resort town on the coast backed up by mountains. On a clear day one can see the isle of Capri. He said it was great to sleep in a bed between sheets for the first time in 8 months and to eat whatever and whenever one wanted. Ernie Pyle, the famous war columnist visited his squadron and in fact spent a bit of time talking with the crew of Midnight…the name of the A-36 Ken and his crew took care of. He wondered if they were ever mentioned in one of his later stories in the “Stars and Stripes” Army newspaper. They would appear several days later usually so one would need to be vigilant to catch it. In fact, the visit was the subject of an entire chapter in Pyle’s last book, “Brave Men”. Ken wrote his mother if she could please send him a few things…candy, of course, chocolate in particular, Mars and Milky Way bars to be specific and pancake flour and maple syrup. He said that by the time that would reach them he expected to be living in tents again and pancakes with real American syrup would make a great treat.

     In time it was clear that Taffy was indeed pregnant and growing bigger every day. It didn’t seem to slow her down yet as she still chased jeeps for rides and continued to be her active self. But day by day she ballooned up and men started taking bets as to how many puppies would emerge. One “expert” was sure she would have four but Ken joked that she looked like she would have fourteen… turned out to be six, three boys and three girls. He wrote: “Saturday night she couldn’t sleep and wouldn’t let me sleep- kept crawling all over me, and I was afraid it would happen right there. She started to have the first one in the middle of the floor-we picked her up and put her in the box and that’s where she’s been ever since. Six of the cutest devils you ever saw- fat, shiny and just plain cute. There have been hundreds of visitors; everybody in the squadron comes in every day, officers from the group headquarters, Red Cross girls and even Italians. She doesn’t mind the G.I.’s, but the civilians and Red Cross girls couldn’t stay very long. She lets us handle them but watches awfully closely, in fact there were about twenty or thirty people in the apartment when the third and fourth ones were born. They’re all promised- could have gotten rid of twenty of them, but thank God she didn’t have that many. She keeps me busy just feeding her, let alone seeing that the box is clean and everything else. She’s a wonderful little mother… it’s a miracle how they know what to do”.

     It had been a long time without hearing from his friend Don. He had been an instructor in the States but was now transferred to England he heard from Beverly. He also heard that Don was engaged to a girl from back home. He sure wished that he had Don’s address to let him know where he was. The war had bogged down and was frustrating to all and hurting morale. There appeared to be little motivation on the part of the Generals to take the initiative and try to end this thing. There was considerable rumbling that this war could now last indefinitely at this rate. France had yet to be invaded in the spring of ’44…only Russia appeared to be making strides against the Nazis. Finally in May ’44, the group was transferred to the island of Corsica, where Napoleon was born. From there they supported an Allied invasion of the south of France, code named “Operation Dragoon”. This little known event’s main purpose was to distract the Nazi’s away from the coming Normandy invasion in June. Rome itself finally fell to the Allies relatively unscathed. Mussolini, who had been rescued by German Special forces, was recaptured and publicly hanged along with his mistress. Despite these events, German resistance in Italy remained doggedly furious, begrudgingly fighting for every inch of blood soaked soil.

     Ken meanwhile had discovered some other friends from Spokane in the area. Jim Austell was close by enough to visit a couple of times a week and he in turn introduced Ken to several others that he had been aware of. He and some others were organizing a baseball team for the squadron. They needed a decent field however. They found a level patch of ground, talked a British engineering outfit into using their heavy equipment to scrape and roll the ground into a hard playing surface and then began building a backstop and pitcher’s mound and laying out the base paths. Soon they had themselves a league made up of various other air crews and organized a game schedule. About this time Ken finally heard from his good friend Don. He had been in England and flying B-26’s on bombing missions. He had already completed 16 missions as bombardier with 25 being the number one needed to “retire”. He was excited to finally get his address and hoped they could stay in better touch from now on. Taffy was alone again having given up her puppies by now and had returned to her old ways but slept more than before…last one out of bed in the morning and first one back in at night. Ken continued to request pancake flour and syrup as now everyone else wanted in on the pancake action too. He also wanted regular jockey shorts as he said he couldn’t wear the G.I. variety and might as well send some bedroom slippers while you’re at it. Perhaps this war thing wasn’t as tough as it sounded after all.

     To the mechanic crew’s way of thinking the plane belonged to them and the pilot’s job was to do his mission and return the plane back to them…undamaged. The crew worked together on a single plane and sweated out the safe return of plane and pilot. The plane Ken’s crew had most of the time was an A-36 “Invader” nicknamed “Midnight”…the pilot’s name was 1st Lt. George R. “Tiger” Palmer who flew 85 missions and in May ’44 went home on a 23 day furlough and was replaced by a new pilot 2nd Lt. David S. Baker. By this time, Ken writes “Midnight was one of the two or three oldest A-36’s left flying and was still going strong. It has had 6 engines and I don’t know how many flak holes in it. It’s flown close to 200 missions and dealt out a lot of damage”. He was proud to add that “General Saville, commander of the 12th Air Force, said the 86th was the best fighter-bomber group in the world; so that makes us feel pretty good”.

     June 6th 1944, D-Day, the long awaited invasion of France. Allied troops breach the German defenses along the Normandy coast…the mighty “Atlantic Wall” commanded by the familiar name Gen. Erwin Rommel. The news quickly reached the forces in Italy and gave everyone a surge of confidence that the war would soon be over and they could be on their way home. Ken wrote about Corsica: “The people speak French, though they seem to understand what little Italian we know. Other than the speech there is the same filth, hunger and ignorance. The people here seem to dislike Americans and still be pro-fascist. I think I dislike them more than the Italians, at least they recognized the fact that they were wrong. The more I see of this part of the world the more I realize how easy it is to have wars- the people don’t know any better. Joe Louis is here in Corsica for two exhibitions and rumor has it that one will be on our field. At any rate, I’m going to see him if I have to crawl to the other end of the island to do it. Rome was the first and only place that looked anywhere near like what we know. It was a strange combination of ultra-modern and ancient. Naturally much of the glamour is the thrill of seeing such things as the Coliseum, Forum and other less famous ruins, but the greatest and the one that I shall never forget was Vatican City and seeing the Pope. He passed right in front of us, so close I could have touched him by stretching out my arm”. He also said that Taffy was “that way again…after this batch I’m going to have our squadron medical officer spade her-providing he is willing. So it will be another ordeal for us. Taffy is a remarkable dog but she has her shortcomings”.

     The relationship with Beverly had hit a valley about this time. It was clear to Ken that Beverly was far more serious than Ken was and in Ken’s mind she was making assumptions. She had mentioned these opinions to Ken’s mother who was surprised at what sounded like a done deal, marriage wise and wrote Ken what she had heard. Christmas, 1943 Ken had considered buying a ring for Beverly and then had second thoughts. Instead he asked his mother to give Beverly his fraternity pin that his mother had in her possession. It was hard for her to give it up since she cherished it herself but she did. Beverly said that she thought the pin was “cute” but evidently instinctively knew that this was far less a gesture than a ring. Feelings were hurt and time and distance certainly took their toll as well. Beverly stopped writing for awhile trying to figure where things stood exactly. Ken was hoping to hear from his friend Don again. It had been a couple of months now and wondered how he was. His friend Jim Austell whom he had been seeing had “been transferred to another outfit…it’s colored too, but he says he likes it better”.

     Late July, 1944, Ken received a letter from his mother that he had dreaded. In it was the news that his best friend, Don had been killed on D-Day over France. He wrote: “I wrote Mr. and Mrs. Kjosness right after your letter about Don came. It was pretty hard to know what to say and I hope I didn’t do too badly. There’s not much need of telling you how I feel about it. It was quite a shock although frankly I was beginning to think something had happened and I wasn’t really too surprised. One thing about it, the plane didn’t go down and instead of being over there he got a decent burial and a grave”. Lt. Hugh Walker, the pilot of the bomber wrote Don’s parents: “It’s very hard to write and I hardly know how to begin, but I think you would like to know how your son was killed. He had been hit in the forehead on D-Day and it knocked him unconscious. He recovered in the plane and dropped his bombs afterward. A steel helmet saved him that day. He was ok the next day and on the 8th, asked to fly again. We went out and he was hit just as he dropped his bombs. An artery, the main one in his right leg was severed. Part of his left hand was gone yet he still closed the bomb bay doors thus keeping the plane in formation and possibly preventing us being caught by enemy fighters. He will be recommended for the Distinguished Service Cross which is just below the Congressional Medal of Honor. He was on his thirty second mission when he was hit. Again I say, he was my friend, and the men here will never forget him for his humor”. Ken writes: “It’s not hard to see how different things will be when we get home. For almost three years I have been reliving the past, and until recently I thought it would be almost the same again, but I guess it can’t now. I still plan definitely to go to school – either the U. of Oregon or U.C.L.A. Jim Austell and I will go together. He and I are about the only two left that are still single and alive”.

     By the middle of August ’44, Midnight was officially decommissioned and Ken’s crew was given a new P-47. He saved a piece of cowling with the group insignia on it and sent it home with hopes of mounting it one day as a souvenir. He wrote: “my new plane is named “Burning Desire”- which applies to almost anything- to go home- to knock the h--- out of the Jerry, etc. The A-36’s are no more. We were the last squadron in the world to fly them. There were always only two groups of “Invaders” and since last February just the 86th. So every time you read about the A-36’s or “Invaders” it was us. The boxing exhibition was good but it was a shame that there wasn’t anyone to put up a good fight. At home one would pay up to thirty dollars to see them fight but here they only had to play around and it took some of the fun out of it”.

     Ken and the rest were very anxious to get off Corsica. They were used to moving up with the front and had been stationary for far too long. He “thought that they might be better off this way but it’s more fun the other way and a lot more exciting. We had quite a storm the other day. All of a sudden it started raining and flowing and before we could do anything about it our tents blew down and everything was soaked. The water at one time was about a foot deep running right through our area. Then, as if that wasn’t enough it was dusty on the line the next day. I could close my eyes and almost think I was back in Texas”.

     Aug. 31st Ken writes, “Well, Taffy had her pups- 9 of them. It was quite different than before. She had the first one on the line, a little before noon. We brought her and hers up here and put her in the box I put up for her. But she immediately took off and went way back in the far corner of a fox-hole and had the rest of them at intervals up to about seven o’clock that night. There are only two males with one born dead. They look just like the others she had, brown and black with little white spots. She comes out to eat and exercise and is as chipper as she can be…eats like a horse. Tonight I took two of the females and gave them to one of the cold-hearted fellows and had him do away with them. Eight is more than she can handle and no one wants the females anyhow”. Later he wrote: “I had to take Taffy’s pups away from her. We killed all but the two males and they are being fed with an eye dropper but they’ll be alright. She started to get raw spots on her hind legs and it kept getting worse until it covered her whole underside. She could hardly nurse them anyway and it would never heal with them on her all the time. As it is it will be a long time before she gets over it- I bathe her with Epsom salts solution and kelp powder and it seems to be helping. The poor little devil is in agony and with all that milk she can hardly walk and can only lay down on her side and back”. He also said that their group had been awarded the Presidential Unit Citation. This is given only after receiving 3 War department citations. He said it was for action in support of the Salerno beachhead landings.

     In mid Sept. ’44, the group moved to Grossetto Airfield in the Tuscany region of Italy, where it struck at rail facilities and other targets throughout the industrialized Po river valley. Ken was struck by the dramatic changes he saw in this new area. He wrote: “You know, you would be surprised by the difference between Northern and Southern Italy. Up here it’s really nice. Of course, the cities are bombed but outside of that you would hardly know there was a war. Another thing, there aren’t many stores or shops and naturally everything is strictly rationed, but the people look prosperous- nice clothes, clean and darned good looking girls. They don’t look Italian at all…blonde, light complexion but unfortunately, not very friendly. You also see a great many young men that look like good army material. All in all I wouldn’t mind living around here in peace time…for a while”. He also writes: “Taffy is just about back to normal now. The pups are as cute as can be and healthy so I guess it didn’t hurt them to take them away from her. She really tickles me at times with her antics- I don’t know what I would do without her. She will be something to have at home…I just wonder if she can get along without a jeep- may have to get one for her”. He later wrote: “Taffy added new glories to her record the other day- She went up the Tower of Pisa! She didn’t seem to be the least bit impressed though which only shows that these things may be old, but as far as I can see the only significance to that is that they show it”.

     Ken decided to have Taffy “fixed” and got none other than the head medical professor at the University of Pisa to do the honors. The operation went perfectly and by the next day she was up and frisky as a puppy. “The Dr. said it was usually about 3 or 4 days before they ever got any life, but she is an exceptional dog- as you all know”. Christmas 1944 came and Ken got plenty of candy, cigarettes, tins of sardines, cheese and crackers, towels and soap and stationary from family and friends. But the real prize was a custom wool coat in army drab olive green for Taffy that his Mother made. He said it was really cute on her and he wanted to have some Italian women sew her name on each side along with her overseas stripes and campaign ribbons. His group had a delicious holiday dinner and some whiskey that was donated from the Officer’s ration. The festive mood however was muted with news from France and the difficulties stemming from the German offensive in the Ardennes…”The Battle of the Bulge”. It seemed to remind everyone that the war’s end was still distant and with much more blood to be spilled on both sides before home was in sight.

     On New Year’s Day, there had been arranged a football game in the Milan soccer stadium between the Army all-stars and Air Force all-stars. It was complete with cheerleaders and half-time bands and was a reasonable facsimile of a genuine New Year’s Day Bowl game. Ken was there of course and after the game he and his friends happened to run into Leo Durocher and Joe Medwick, major league baseball stars. They were invited to visit with them and the rest of their group which had been traveling to entertain the troops in Italy. They had a nice long conversation and Ken got a baseball autographed by them and others. January 1st also happened to mean that Ken won a $50 bet that the war would not be over by then…a bet he would have been happy to lose. The weather turned bitter cold with mixed rain and snow driven by a hard relentless wind. Everything was harder to do with numb hands and burdened in heavy coats. Between his long work stints, Ken played on the squad’s basketball team and helped to keep them undefeated at this point of the season. Ken also finally got permission to go on what was called “rest camp” or what we today call R&R. It meant spending 5 days on the island of Capri, in a hotel and sleeping in a real bed between real sheets. Even in February, it was just marvelous to get away for awhile and feel like a human again, even for just 5 days. When he returned to his base he was surprised to discover that everyone was in the process of moving the entire operation from Italy to eastern France. Ken was excited about a change of scenery but found he actually missed Italy after a while. This part of France however had been relatively untouched by the war compared to the devastated cities and towns of Italy and the stores actually had goods in them for sale.

     The squad picked up right away chasing Germans just as they had done in Italy, bombing them as they retreated back towards Berlin and into the giant vise jaws slowly tightening between the Allied armies in the West and the Red army in the East. Rumors were rampant about what the future held for the soon to be victorious Americans. Some said that they were to remain in Germany for perhaps 10 years to put down expected German uprisings. Others had most everyone going to the Far East to help defeat the Japanese on their homeland. Few expected to be going home very soon even as the end of the war was now clearly in sight. Ken got an opportunity to visit the city of Nancy. He said that the city was quite beautiful and this time the people were happy to see them as opposed to the still Fascist leaning Italians. The pace of bombing exceeded anything done during the war in Italy. The squad now moved itself into Germany proper as the front lines were rapidly collapsing to the east. There was very little time to do anything other than work, sleep and eat. The weather was very miserable, the worst spring weather in many years. Ken and his squad lived in makeshift Quonset huts they put together themselves out of wire, tar paper and salvaged material. They also pitched in together and bought a radio for $130 where they could pick up the B.B.C., cobbled together a homemade woodstove to fight off the chill and with Taffy running around it was cozy if not exactly comfortable. For recreation the boys continued to play basketball, but with spring approaching, the baseball itch was starting in many of them. Ken got a chance to visit a German town that had not been destroyed. They were under orders to always be in groups of at least two, wear helmets and be armed. This was still Germany after all, the “Fatherland” and the people were not very happy about the way the war turned out.

     May 7th, 1945 Germany unconditionally surrendered to the Allies thus ending nearly 6 years of war in Europe that killed over 50 million lives and virtually destroyed entire nations. He wrote on May 11th…”Well, it really happened, after plenty of false starts, we heard the news Monday and that was it. Strangely though, it didn’t cause any rejoicing or celebrating among us. Plenty of them did, though. I guess everybody’s mind is on the future and not knowing but suspecting the worse”. For Ken and his squad there was suddenly absolutely nothing to do. Planes were grounded and missions cancelled. The men moved into former German officer quarters…he says, “Swell rooms with electric lights, closets, beds, springs, chairs and desks, etc., tiled shower and wash room with “modern plumbing” and to top it off German women cleaning the place up. I’ve taken a dozen showers the last four days and even Taffy has had one! We’ve got a barrel of beer on tap all the time and occasionally get a bottle of champagne”. He said he did get to see a little more of Germany. He said “most of the cities are completely destroyed but what is left looks nice. I went through Heidelberg and it was very impressive. They didn’t touch it you know due to American interests in the University. Stuttgart is a large city and there is hardly a building standing but Heilbrunn is the worst of all- they must have had a real grudge against that place. The people look just like Americans and even seemed halfway friendly”. Taffy developed a serious internal infection about this time that had Ken and all quite worried. It actually turned touch and go for awhile but after some strong antibiotic treatments she recovered quite well.

     The idle time became an issue with the Army brass as well as the G.I.’s. Ken was approached to lead a calisthenics program for the men which he did not feel qualified. They also wanted Ken to teach some remedial classes in science, history and of all things, political science! He would receive college credit for his effort. He would have to develop his own curriculum as well. He wrote, “I would rather be a student in something new that I don’t know than teach others what I already know”. The Army developed a point system in an attempt at fairness in sending G.I.’s home. You earned so many points for how long you served and extra points for any awards earned as a unit and an individual. 200 points was the critical number for early rotation back to the States…cruelly Ken had accumulated 199 points. He was certain that the married men with children would and should be the first to return anyway and he mentally settled in for the long run.

     Ken was playing a lot of baseball as well. This team was well stocked with former college stars and a few semi-professionals and was very good. He pitched and played left field and batted about .350. The team kept winning and eventually represented the Air Force in various intra-service tournaments. He also was a member of a six member singing combo that was to participate in some shows for the G.I.’s and possibly go on tour. In late June, ’45, Ken was sent to England to attend a Pratt and Whitney engine school in Warrington for two weeks. They got a room at the Red Cross hotel, changed their money and went in to London to see the sights. He had a big thrill when while crossing an intersection a large car came through inside which he caught a glimpse of Queen Mary, the Queen mother. He thought England was beautiful and the people just like us outside of the speech differences. Warrington itself was then a town of around 20,000 on the River Mersey. He said “they have several theatres, dance halls, and good beer which lasts until 8:00 p.m., but the main idea is to just walk down the street with real people, stores and cars, etc. I went to Manchester twice last week, but there isn’t much there. The town is black from smoke and looks dirty and dingy.” He wrote, “Two of us went up to Blackpool, a summer resort town about 100 miles away. We got there right in the middle of the darndest crowd you ever saw. We finally got a room and ate but that was about as far it went. Everything had a line about a hundred yards long in front of it. We thought seriously about selling sand from the beach- probably would have made a fortune”. His time in England was over quickly and he was in no hurry to return “except to play ball and see Taffy.” They flew from London to Paris and then on to Mannheim. He wrote, “We flew close enough to the main part of Paris to see the Eiffel Tower, the Palace and the city in general, but I’m getting so these things aren’t so important to me anymore. They aren’t half as beautiful as any place back home.”

     In late July Ken got a chance to see a Bob Hope USO show with Jerry Calonna and the whole troupe. He was also a part of a firing line for the funeral of one of their pilots. On the trip to the cemetery they were held up at the town of Bensheim. A huge entourage of cars crossed in front of them including “all kinds of M.P.’s, armored cars and then all of a sudden President Truman, Ike and the rest of the American delegation headed for the Allied Conference at Postdam. It was quite a thrill.” The baseball team continued playing with great success until a number of key teammates were sent home. After winning a record 26 straight games, a European theatre record, they finally lost to the Army’s 3rd Armored Division 3-2. Ken pitched and allowed only 7 hits, had 8 strikeouts and no walks. As the Pacific war wound down Ken began to plan how to get Taffy home. There was conflicting information about taking dogs home however his superiors were as keen on getting Taffy back home as Ken was. He wrote his mother, “Don’t be surprised if you get a little black and white dog in the mail sometime. I don’t know what will happen when she “gets out of the army” but if she does precede me I’ll have to give you a few pointers on her or you’ll have quite a time.”

     In mid August, Ken mentioned receiving a letter from Beverly. He said she mostly wrote about her family and that Ted had returned to the States and was stationed in California. He said Beverly was quite interested in another fellow, John Presley. He remembered him playing football and baseball at Gonzaga H.S., but that was about all. John went on to a career as an NFL referee that we kids would sometimes see on TV and say, “there’s the guy who could have been our father.” Things were obviously quite cool at this time with Beverly while waiting for almost 4 years after his leaving Spokane for the Army. He also wrote, “For some time now I’ve been thinking a lot about what I’ll do when I do get home. When Jim (Austell) and I were together last winter we talked about it. Never very seriously or for very long, but we sowed the seeds of thought. It amounted to pooling our money, we both have saved about the same amount and starting a sporting goods store. There are a lot of things in our favor but we’ll talk more about it. Going back to school is a pretty tall order now, considering I would be 28 or 29 years old when I would graduate and it seems a little too long to wait.”

     This was the last letter, dated August 25th, 1945. I presume that soon afterward he was ordered home and was very busy with arrangements for Taffy, which consisted of a veterinary examination and then shipping her from New Jersey to Medford, Ore. for the amount of $18.54.  He put an estimated value for her as $100 but she was in fact invaluable beyond measure of dollars. I am sure he was a part of the confusion of  the mass exodus of millions of G.I.’s from Europe, 2 weeks aboard another ship, arriving at an East Coast port and still yet another cross country train trip to Camp Beale, California where he was honorably discharged on Oct 27, 1945. It was early November before he was physically back safely home, almost exactly 46 months after his enlistment. The winds of fate we know eventually took him back to W.S.U., marriage to Beverly Berg and employment with Kaiser Aluminum Corp. Taffy lived out the rest of her life with Ken and Bev’s family that eventually grew to eight children. None of this was obvious in Oct. 1945. Ken’s story was not exceptional but rather one that was quite similar to those of millions of others, who left their loved ones behind and risked their lives defending their country against the greatest evil to ever cast a shadow upon this earth. He learned valuable technical skills repairing state of the art war planes, experienced extreme discomfort while in harm’s way and separated from all that was familiar and from those who loved him for 4 irreplaceable years of his youth, interrupting his education and career opportunities. He volunteered for this and did it with pride and without complaint.

     Our dad died on January 7, 1991 from complications of prostate cancer at the relatively young age of 69.  One of the small rewards for his sacrifice is a small brass grave marker that states his rank of Staff Sgt. U.S. Army Air Corps. He was quite adamant about getting this token of his service. It is plain and similar to the millions of others that lie in long, straight rows in the many cemeteries of Europe, North Africa and the Pacific as well as countless fields in the U.S. It is also very similar to one in Normandy that bears the name of his friend, Don Kjosness and another somewhere else in France that says Richard Chiles. This was important to Ken that even though he survived the war to live out his life, in the end he shared the same common marker as his friends and everyone else who earned this simple acknowledgement of a grateful nation.

     We children were too young to understand and appreciate this story. It was a story Ken was all too anxious to put behind him and get on with the rest of his life. As he aged though his thoughts returned to those years and the friendships forged by a shared adversity as he began to attend his group reunions and finally took a trip back to Italy and France for the first time since he left in 1945. Europe had rebuilt its destroyed cities and repaired the scars of war. The terrible invisible damage from 70 million lost lives was not so obvious to tourists. That loss is impossible to measure or to ever heal. It remains in the hearts of the survivors and their families and the incredible vacuum of unrealized human potential. We can only hope that the lessons of that terrible war are not lost on the not yet named future generations.