Life History of Marcel F. Lauper

Chapter 6

World War II

Before Ralph was released from the mission field, Alice was called to the Eastern States mission. When Ralph did return, he and I lived a fast whirl among the social crowd for a while, and then came December 7, 1941--Pearl Harbor Day! I remember so well coming out of Sunday School at Dimond Ward that Sunday morning, and someone on the street told me, "The Japanese have bombed Pearl". I had a date that after­noon, and as we were riding around, the young lady with me became very annoyed that I was so preoccupied in listening to the news over the car radio. I was personally very touched by this tragic news for I realized how it would definitely affect me and soon. I was young, single, and in good health. My date showed little interest to my concerns when I told her, "I'll be out in the battle in no time at all". In the spring, Ralph received his card from Uncle Sam which stated, "Greetings, meet at Induction Quarters, 5 a.m. etc." ---and within two or three short weeks I, too, received the same kind of Greetings. On May 5, 1942, MFL left for U. S. Army service. They took my group and me by truck to the train, then on down to Monterey, California where we were literally unloaded like cattle into another truck to carry us to the Base. We were already listening to such commands as "Get out, get moving, don't mopey dopey along" etc., and from then on I had someone telling me when I could sleep, when I must arise, when I could eat and how and what, as well as to how I was to spend every minute of each and every day. That's the army! Of the food, only one distinct memory remains pleasantly, and that was a new spread to me--apple butter. I remember my first phone call home and how I told Mother there was one item on the fare that I especially liked--this smooth apple butter spread.

Our calls into the service produced a pronounced hardship on our dear little mother; she was so sad at our leaving, and our departures were made all the more painful when she received separate bundles from each, Ralph and me, as we were required to send home all the clothing we had worn to our respective camps. No longer were we ever to be out of United States Army uniform!

Previous to Ralph's and my leaving, and during the fall of 1941, a family conference brought about the decision to combine living quarters for us all. This would allow for a pool of financial resources, provide a home for Mother, a place for Ralph and me for whatever time we had before induction and likewise, a stopover during furloughs or chance trips home. A large, roomy, comfortable old home was located and negotiated for 1419 Grand Avenue, Piedmont, California, where there was ample space for a productive garden and even opportunity for rabbit raising. Joe and Viola, Dennis and Helen, each gave up their respective apartments; and we relinquished our 62 Fairmont Street abode--each of us find­ing enough space in this nice old home with its numerous and large bedrooms. This was mother's glory to have so many of her children under one roof. Alice, too, returned from her mission to that place; and I can say we all enjoyed this setup for the time it lasted, until changes took Joe and Viola into the Chicago area ---Mother with them. Alice was married and went into the Northwest, and Dennis and Helen took another apartment within Oakland.

To continue on with my service life we spent five days on the train as we left Monterey, California for an unknown destination. Only just before arrival at Wichita Falls, Texas, did we learn our training ground was to be Sheppard Field. The weather there was HOT and very, very dry. Strict discipline was introduced and enforced to ‘whip us into shape'. In no time at all we were to be found marching, marching and marching in that severe weather and on that desolate drill field. My nose blistered, my lips chapped and split open, and my fair complexion responded even more sorely than when I was a boy on farm duty. Three months of that and on a day with weather just opposite to that of the day of our entry---the rain was pouring down on the dusty, dirty field, as well as on our dusty packs of bedding et al, a transfer finally came. I trudged along with my faded dirty barracks bag, in the mud and muck, but with a big smile on my face, for we were leaving Sheppard Field. I soon found out we were on our way to Chanute Field, Champaign, Illinois. This time, I enjoyed the long pleasant ride, using a Pullman bunk, and Chanute Field greeted us with beauty and greenery. This was an old established base (where Sheppard had been a new field) with somewhere between 40 to 60 thousand men. I was there assigned to Weather School, Department of Meteorology for the Air Force, to be a weather observer. This was a result of a previous series of tests, and I would surmise that anyone with much IQ was offered something a little better than the majority who were directed into infantry training. I had fearfully appraised myself as 'gun fodder' all along, so was greatly encouraged to find myself in a technical school in this high class place, and in order to delay my finishing up here, I applied for teletype training operator. I feel it a personal blessing that I was able to pass that too--or should we account it to the poor efficiency of the Army, for I was rather poor at this.

Following this, I was assigned to Fort Sumner, New Mexico; and it was there I met my life-long buddy Joe Norder, and we really managed pretty well for ourselves. My first furlough came in November and I started home to see Mother and family. In route, I stopped in Southern California to visit Ivan and Helen and while there, received a wire from Dennis stating, "Marc Dennis arrived this morning, Mother and son doing well". I can well remember and pinpoint that date as November 23, 1942--with nephew Marc's arrival. It was a joyful occasion to be home and with loved ones for a few days, then as I always said while kissing darling niece, Linda Johnson, goodbye, "And to think I have to go back and look at nothing but those old ugly Sergeants". By this time I was a corporal, but I was not to see very much rank, personally, during my service career. Sometime later I recall Ivan remarking in his usual candid manner, "I would feel a failure if I came out with less than a Captain". Well I did come out less, lots less,--my rank as Buck Sergeant was hard earned, and I might add those advancements in rank come painfully slow and hard. I recall Uncle Julius Sorensen's consolation to me when he sent a cartoon showing a General who had been 'busted'--reduced to nothing and kicked out of the army; the caption showed a lowly non-corn saying; "I went in as a Private and came out as a Private, which is better than General So-and-So did".

Fort Sumner was another new base, which always proves harder; yet the discipline was rather lax--making it possible to endure some of the hardships. We slept in big, very cold barracks for some months before it was improved with the induction of more personnel. I was al­lowed to fly about on some of the routes --presumably to view the routes we were forecasting, etc. I recall one day on the drill field when we were called to attention with the announcement, "Your commander and Chief is dead". Our long, long time President of United States, Franklin Delano Roosevelt had passed on and Harry S. Truman took command.

On each of the five bases where I served my military, I organized an L.D.S. Serviceman's group. I was able to hold only one meeting at the first, Monterey, for we were there only one Sunday. At Sheppard Field, I carried on the Worship Service on the Base, and when we got off the Base, I took as many as I could coax with me into Wichita Falls, where there was an organized Branch of the Church. I recall speaking there several times. At Chanute Field I organized again and I am definitely certain that this was my biggest service in the military that of assisting my serviceman companions in maintaining a few morals. I am sure this is the best thing I did. Chanute Field was really in Urbana, Illinois, but there was an organized L.D.S. Branch at Champaign, Illinois; and I went into town as often as possible, but I still marshaled the boys together whenever we couldn't get off Base. At Fort Sumner, I organized a pretty darn good group, working on several individuals with reasonable success. I never met another High Priest in uniform out in the Camps, so I always felt a pending responsibility. It was while at Fort Sumner that the popular Song "White Christmas" became endeared to me, almost taking a place among favored hymns to this day. I saw the snow fall there, and along with my being able to take some passes to go to Santa Fe, Albuquerque, Clovis, etc. I savor some good memories of that period. Actually, the biggest thing in my whole life came to pass while I was stationed at Fort Sumner.

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