We Who Are Alive and Remain (32 page)

Most years I chased salmon in Bristol Bay, home of the largest run of sockeye salmon in the world. At first I bought a sixteen-foot skiff with a ten-horsepower outboard and worked with one chackle of gear. I drifted with the tides back and forth, gill netting the sockeyes. Bristol Bay is quite shallow, and when the winds blow, it can become very rough. I fished those waters for twenty years and finally bought a thirty-two-foot boat, which was made in the Seattle area and shipped north on a large cargo vessel. I named her the
Donelle B
. She was powered by a 440 Chrysler, a comfortable commercial boat. Some summers when the fish returned in huge schools, the enterprise became quite profitable; other years, not so. I finally turned the boat and permit over to my son Alan, who still fishes the bay.

What beautiful country, this Alaska. I knew then that we would become long-term Alaskans. We are still here—now in Anchorage some fifty-seven years later. We’re both retired, lucky to have four children, all born in Alaska, and now we have four grandchildren to boast about. We have been able, very slowly, to own our own home. We have nice cars and a retirement check from Alaska that takes care of all our needs, especially a rare state health insurance plan that is unbelievable.

Elaine was there to meet me when I came home. She had stayed very close to my parents while I was overseas. It was the first time I had seen her in a couple of years. During rehabilitation I got a few passes and we went out to Long Island one weekend. We were married when I was still in the rehab hospital, May 19, 1945. She had it all planned. I didn’t mind in the least.

After the war I worked for the Veterans Administration in Philadelphia. They had a photo research project under way, and I had had some experience in photography, so they took me on. It was a project they were doing in conjunction with Eastman Kodak, trying to figure out how to reproduce soldiers’ X-rays without going through the negative process. We were just about ready to go into production and my boss said, “Let’s go down to Washington. I want you to meet some people.” I said “Sure.” So we went to what looked like a little residential house on E Street in Georgetown. I had no idea what was going on. We went in and talked to the people. They were interested in my wartime experiences. Later on I realized my boss had guided me through the first step of the interview process with the CIA. I had several more phone calls with the CIA. The process went on for a while. It took a year for the security clearances to go through. I resigned from the VA and went with the CIA.

I had no idea what was ahead, but it was a real experience. While training with the CIA I met Bob Brewer again, the soldier who had been shot in the neck in Holland. He was also with the CIA. Of course, we were both under aliases. We became close friends. Altogether I spent twenty-five years with the CIA. I try to avoid talking about any of the specifics of the job—you start talking about it and one question leads to another. I was assigned to the Far East Division. We spent time in almost all the countries over there.

All in all I’ve had a very good life since the war. Some great experiences. Elaine and I have four children and four grandchildren. We’re happy.

Adjustment to life back home was more frustrating than I imagined. I had no idea what to do with the rest of my life. I worked for a while, then went back to school at Woodbury University (it was a college then) and took some business and technology courses. For a while I worked in a music store because music was always something I enjoyed. After that I went to industrial design school and got into drafting. I ended up working as a draftsman for the Apollo project, which in the end was a wonderful experience, drafting up plans for ground support equipment. We wouldn’t allow anything to get out of that place unless it was letter-perfect.

As a child, church didn’t mean anything to me; it was just rituals. I was brought up in the Episcopal Church, but it wasn’t until 1966 that I really understood what it was about and decided to follow God. I’m involved with two Christian men’s organizations today. I speak to high school students about the war and my faith. I look back on my life, and it’s troubling to me how much of my eighty-five years have been so ridiculous. I don’t pull any punches. The kids love it.

For many years I figured that since I had been in Normandy for only fifteen days or so before being knocked out that I had let my unit down. So I never kept in touch with any of the guys from my unit. Then in 2002 I was invited to the Emmy Awards, where I met up with all these guys from Easy Company. That got me involved again.

I came home in September 1945. On November 17, 1945, I married Virginia, a friend since childhood. Our folks had known each other. We’re still married today. It’s been the best thing that ever happened to me. We have three children and one granddaughter.

I worked for a department store for a short time, then went to Pepperdine University, then to UCLA, then to the University of Chicago, getting a degree in psychology and sociology with a minor in education. I worked as a psychologist and for International Harvester in their training department from 1950 to 1978, while doing private practice on the side. I’ve been retired since 1978.

Looking back, I think I adjusted to life after the war pretty well. The only hard part has been that I’ve been messed up ever since that jump in Holland, where the guy landed on me. When I first got back I could hardly carry anything out in front of me. These days I can barely walk. But when I’m sitting down I believe I can do anything.

How did I cope with the war? I always tried to keep a sense of humor. If you didn’t have a sense of humor, you were gone. Even today it’s like that. My wife has Alzheimer’s, and I care for her full-time. Virginia has some good days and some bad days. But you’ve always got to keep smiling. That gets you through.

I was shipped home in May on a Victory Ship and discharged June 10, 1946. Right after I got discharged I went home to Portland to see my folks. They didn’t know I was coming. It was a real surprise for them. We were all real happy to see each other.

I met my wife, Patricia, in 1946. We were married in 1948. We never did have any kids, but we’ve been married for more than sixty years. We’ve got lots of nieces and nephews. I went to work in a lumber mill and put in about fourteen years there. I did just about every job there and was mill foreman at the end. By that time it was the biggest sawmill left on the Pacific Coast. Then they sold out to Georgia Pacific and closed the mill down. I had been buying a new Ford every year, so I went down and talked to the guy, who said, “Why don’t you sell cars for a while?” So I sold cars for three years. I made good money at it but didn’t like it. I went up to Seattle, hired out at Boeing as a machinist, and put in twenty-two years there before retiring.

The wound to my head that I received in Carentan meant I had what they call posttraumatic epilepsy. So when I came home from the war they sent me to a hospital in Tuscaloosa. I had one brain operation there that only made things worse. Sometimes I had up to four seizures a day. I don’t think anybody could live for too long having those. You twitch and jerk around; nobody can hold you down. They can’t tie you down because you’ll break your arms.

After that they sent me to Cushing General Hospital in Framing-ham, Massachusetts. The army had just built the hospital to handle all the wounded coming home. Major Earl Walker, a neurosurgeon, got me straightened out there. They put a plate in my head and I don’t know what else—I have a lot of those things where they reconnected the blood vessels and nerves in my head.

They don’t put you to sleep when you have brain surgery like that. They put you in a twilight zone where you’re hearing but you’re not there. I remember smelling something like when you get a tooth drilled. Somewhere during the operation, right below my left knee felt like it was on fire. I started hollering. The doctor told his assistant that he had got my nerves crossed. So they got that straightened out.

I spent a year in rehabilitation. You’d knit, crochet, do things I’d only seen my mama do. I asked the doctor why. He said it was to coordinate your eyes, your mind, and your hands. I did jigsaw puzzles and other exercises. They had a good gym there. A lot of wounded soldiers were in the hospital there.

I was pretty healthy after that. I thank the good Lord for how things turned out. I have a strong faith; I guess I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for that. With my head injury being what it was, I figured I had two choices: I could quit altogether, or I could keep moving and go down the slow road. It wasn’t easy to go down that road. Faith got me through. I’m washed in the blood of Jesus Christ Lord Almighty. He has taken care of me all the way through.

I wasn’t better all right away. When I was discharged, I was still having a few seizures every once in a while. The doctor said they’d eventually go away. He put me on medications that I’m still on today. The VA gives me that medicine.

My goal was to become a CPA, then after I graduated to go on to law school and become a tax attorney. I went to business school in Montgomery but couldn’t handle it. I had too many headaches. So that wasn’t meant to be.

Nobody wanted to hire me. I was still having those seizures, not many, just every once in a while. But I could feel when a seizure was coming on, so I knew I could get out of the way when one came on. This friend, I talked to him, and he said, “Well, let’s try it.” He ran a shoe business at a fancy store in Montgomery. He gave me a job, and I stayed there for a lot of years. I guess I did pretty well there because I always liked people, and people seemed to like me just fine. If I ever felt a seizure coming on I went back to the stockroom, out of the public eye.

Back when I was still in the hospital I met a girl, Barbara Drew, while out at a café. She was just sixteen then, seven years younger than me. I had never had a steady girl. I had been out with girls before, but one had never made much difference to me than another; we’d just go out and have a good time. But Barbara was different. She was gorgeous. Pretty features. A good personality. A good dancer. Very kind. I said, “Well, this is the one I want to spend my life with.” That’s the way it’s been.

We got married December 28, 1946, and have had a good life together. We have two children, Nancy and Cliff. I think that’s the best thing there is. Years later my daughter got a doctorate in counseling. She teaches at a university. My son’s a veterinarian. My wife passed away in 1999. Her picture’s right here with me on the mantel. I think about her every day.

Doctors checked on me every year. Time and medicine took care of things. My wife was my best doctor. She always kept things really calm and peaceful in the home. As a family, we enjoyed swimming, fishing, going down to the beach. I believe in a close family. If we ever went somewhere, our kids went with us.

Throughout the years, my wife encouraged me to hook up with the guys from Easy Company, but I never went. I’ve been called one of the “lost ones” from Easy Company. For years Bill Guarnere wrote and sent invitations to the reunions, but I could just never go. I still don’t go to the reunions today, but Major Winters, I’ve talked with him on the phone in recent years. He’s a great man, you’re 100 percent right there.

Why didn’t I go to the reunions? It wasn’t that I didn’t like the guys from Easy Company, I like all of them just fine. But I wanted to forget as much about that war as I possibly could. That’s been my goal: to forget. I think I’ve done a pretty good job forgetting. That’s how I chose to make sense of the war.

You would think that after being overseas in the war for a long time that you would crave eating a certain thing that you weren’t able to get while you were away—maybe cheeseburgers or milkshakes or steak. Well, you do. But when I came home, the only thing I craved was dill pickles. I’d drive twenty miles to a store that had barrels of pickles in it. I bought them in jars and ate every pickle in them and even drank the juice. That went on for about a year. I told people I thought maybe I was pregnant [laughs], but I wasn’t.

I got discharged in a little camp in Virginia and came home. I got a job at the coal mine, picking slate. Back then they ran the coal out of the mines on a belt. As it came by you reached in, got the slate, and threw it out. That’s how they cleaned it. I worked there awhile. The company had a machine shop, so I got a job there after a bit. Then I wanted to see what California looked like. I was married by then and had two kids. So me and a couple guys went to California, where I got set up, then sent for my wife and kids to come out and join me. We stayed in California three years. I got a job in a machine shop. It was a government contract but we lost it, so I got laid off and came home to Virginia and started working for the coal company again in their machine shop. That was an outstanding job. I worked there for twentysome years. I was more or less my own boss and could do whatever I wanted, within reason. Even to this day we still have insurance with that company.

After Ambrose wrote the book and they came out with the miniseries, I had retired by then, and down at Wal-Mart one day I ran into a guy I used to work with at the coal company. He said, “How come you never told us anything about those war experiences you had?”

“I never told
anybody
,” I said. “Nobody knew anything about those years.” Now, I don’t know about the rest of the guys, but I never talked about the war. Even my family didn’t know anything about it until the book came out.

After I retired I piddled around in the garden, then helped build my house. A few months ago I began having chest problems. Turns out they found another cancer just outside of my lungs. I’ve been taking all sorts of treatments for that.

These days I’ve slowed down a lot. My fishing buddy passed away a few years ago, so that slowed things down there. I can’t see to fish unless my grandson goes with me to help me with the hooks. I garden a bit. I like to get out on the deck and shoot my rifle. Nobody lives around our house, so it’s okay.