There were a couple of things that happened way back in the 1930's that may have had some influence on my life. One of them happened when I was about twelve years old. We had a field of corn that had been cut and shocked in the field. During the winter months the stalks were hauled to the barn and stored up on a scaffold. The ground was frozen and the butt end of many of the bundles was frozen into the ground so large chunks of clay came with the stalks . These chunks dried out after being put in the barn. My dad thought he would make bedding out of the stalks by running them through a silo filler. He took half of the knives out and set the machine on the longest cut. The machine was set up in the old part of the barn and the pipe was put up through a hole that been cut in the roof to the new part. I was given the job of scattering the chopped stalks by the use of a deflector board eight inches by two feet that a strap had been secured for a hand hold. It worked very well when held over the end of the silo pipe. When the first bundle went through the silo filler all of those clay lumps that was sticking to the butt of the stalks turned to dust and in seconds the air was filled to the point that it was impossible to see even a short distance. Something that I was not prepared for. I stayed there all day and was completely covered inside and out with the dirt. After this episode my lungs ached for weeks.

      A few years later but before W.W. 2 we would try to augment the farms cash income by raising a field of clover for seed. That particular year we had cut the clover and was drying the windrows when a sudden rain soaked them this happened several times before we could remove hay from the field. There is something about clover that gives it a very irritating dust after getting wet and then drying out. The soakings had not injured the seed but , the hay was as black as coal. We stored the hay in the barn to wait for the Clover threshing machine to come from Coopersville. We planned to blow the threshed straw into the mow right next to where we were removing the hay. Big clouds of that very irritating dust emerged and filled the barn. We stayed with the job for the whole day. That night I never slept a wink. There was fever and my lungs hurt along with a first class headache. Again the pain in my lungs lasted for weeks. Now over fifty years later the Doctors say that x-rays of my lungs show a considerable amount of scar ring . I have to wonder how much is the result of these two episodes.

      I was drafted in the spring of 1942 and my lot fell with the Military Police so you see that I never was required to storm any beaches or attack any hill. My first two years were spent in the New England area near Cape Cod where I guarded a Military radio Station for five Months, then I trained a platoon of recruits for there basic training. A scout car accident that rolled over on me put me in the hospital for five weeks. This was followed by eight months working in the guard house controlling our own soldiers who had gone AWOL to get out of going overseas. A job that I disliked very much. I finally managed a transfer to a Japanese prisoner of war identification and processing unit that was forming in Fort Custer Michigan. We left Michigan in September of 1944 . Our first stop overseas was Hollandia, New Guinea. On Christmas day 1944 we boarded ship for the Philippines and Lyngayun Gulf . The combat troops landed on the 9th and we on the tenth. Our job of processing prisoners for the international Red Cross was very light as not to many prisoners came our way. But after V.J. day the powers that was decided that they wanted a form for every Japanese prisoner that surrendered. Sixty thousand of them so for a time we worked long hours. I was in charge of all the typest, and it was my job to keep the records straight . After the interrogators finished on the written form, my typest would type up five copies and I would have to have the prisoner sign each.

      One day a buzz came up the line that the Head General of the Japanese Army was coming through. He was dressed in an ordinary uniform without any insignia of any kind. I had to wait for the typest to finish his forms so it gave me some time to talk to him. He was the equivalent of General Mac Arthur in our Army. He could speak English so we could talk easily. I don't remember what was said but I did ask him for his autograph which he was very happy to give me. He signed a ten Peso note of Japanese invasion money for me. I still have it in my wartime memorabilia. Incidentally later on he was convicted of war crimes against humanity and was hanged as a war criminal. The officer from my platoon acted as the official observer at his hanging. This Officer was from Grand Rapids Michigan so I have been able to discuss the events with him.

      I left the Philippines in the middle of December and crossed the international date line on Christmas day going from west to east giving me the opportunity to celebrate two Christmases in one year. We landed in San Francisco on New years eve in 1945. I was discharged at Fort Sheridan Illinois on the Ninth of January 1946.